The Con Code by Shana Silver

Author:Shana Silver
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Feiwel & Friends

Three more people check out. The line moves forward. The walls close in on me.

Fiona: Let me see what you’re doing.

I call Tig via FaceTime. I keep the sound off because she wasn’t going to say anything anyway, but she picks up and sets her phone beside her so I can follow along. Colin watches over my shoulder. Tig plugs various devices into her laptop, seemingly to run cracking software of some kind. Binary code flashes on her screen at light speed. But the error message pops up once again: Access Denied.

“Crap,” I mutter, and the person in front of us swings around to squint. I lower my voice and lean even closer to Colin, so close that I can smell his coconut suntan lotion. “Can you talk us out of this?”

His face pales, and he shakes his head, a wounded expression twisting his brows together. The most confident guy I’ve ever met. The cocky guy that claimed he could weasel his way into anything. That same guy cannot assure me that he can keep us safe.

“Double crap.”

A few more people pass through the security check. We move forward, about halfway to the front. I start to picture the cold slap of handcuffs. The experience of the elusive park jail, where they take truants and drunks. The face of Ian O’Keefe when he hauls his ass down here to swoop us back to San Fran.

The disappointment that I’ll never find my mother again, and I won’t be able to face my father.

“Please, Tig,” I whisper into the phone.

On the screen, her fingers flex. She unplugs the devices she just plugged in and tries another combination. She pulls up several new scripts and executes one via the command line. The script runs much more slowly than the last. 1% complete. 3% complete.

Security validates two more people’s IDs. My heart is in my throat.

7%. 12%.

I string the charm on my necklace back and forth on the chain, faster and faster to combat my nerves.

16%. 21%.

Eight people ahead of us. Panic climbs up my spine in full force.

27%. 35%.

Bleeps and blips pass the next person. My hands shake, rattling the phone. Colin grips his own phone with white fingers.

44%. 51%.

The girl in front of us clears her throat, and I nearly throw the phone into the air. I let out a little yelp, but so does Colin.

58%. 62%.

Two more people move forward.

73%. 76%.

The next person clears security in less than a second. Five people ahead of us.

81%. 85%.

Four people left. Oh God. I’ve maneuvered in and out of heavily secured museums with more stealth. And now a measly ID is going to be my downfall. And worse still, I’m going to get Colin caught, too, breaking my promise to protect him.

89%. 93%. 95%.

Three people pass. Only one person ahead of Colin.

99%.

The next person in line, a girl in her mid-twenties with her hair stuffed in a bald wig, laughs at something the security officer scanning her badge says.

99%.

Bald wig asks him about the weather.

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