Worth Killing For by Max Luther

Author:Max Luther
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
Published: 2024-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

26

Drayce pulled the balaclava over his face and activated the Flipper Zero to block the property’s Wi-Fi signal, rendering the security cameras obsolete – he’d purchased the hacking device from a computer repair company that kept such items under the counter for customers in-the-know. His gloved fingers clawed the decorative ironwork at the top of the perimeter wall, his boots scraping the brickwork as he clambered up, taking care to avoid the motion sensors as he swung his legs over. He landed with a thud, rolled, and pushed up to the building line. Out of sight of the windows, he listened. No alarms; no doors opening; no movement whatsoever. He hurried to his designated entry point and held the centre punch against the corner of the windowpane.

The address he’d found on Lucy’s phone was a big, brick, four-storey structure, with a pitched roof porch over the front door, and an attached garage on the side. It was set back from the road on Parliament Hill, a few houses down from an entrance to Hampstead Heath, the front door separated from the pavement by an immaculate garden paved entirely with pricey-looking slabs of stone, polished to perfection. Rare potted plants that probably each cost thousands followed the brick wall perimeter.

Drayce took one last look through the window, wanting to be sure the room he planned to enter was empty. He’d established the internal layout from architect’s drawings he’d found online, and the rest he’d picked up from a physical recce. The ground floor consisted of an entranceway with a staircase dead ahead, a reception room that would be Drayce’s entry point, and a hallway that led to a huge open-plan kitchen and dining area at the back. The first floor was dedicated to the guest bedrooms, each with en suites, the second floor to the master bedroom, dressing room, and a family bathroom, and the third floor to a games room and a home office. Drayce had wanted to know precisely what he was walking into and had prepared himself with the equipment he’d need before making the trip. Knocking on the front door wasn’t an option. This confrontation would be ugly. He had to be prepared, and leaving behind his fingerprints on furniture and his image on the camera feed was not an option.

Even derelict it would be a seven-figure house, but the occupant had spent hundreds of thousands to make it as luxurious as a home could be in the twenty-first century, hence the alarm with a direct connection to the police, a dozen discreet cameras covering every aspect, motion sensors to warn if anyone climbed the perimeter wall, and a front door and frame made of solid steel, with foot-long, three-inch-thick interlocking deadbolts.

Excessive for your average person.

But then, the man who lived here had more to worry about than your average person.

Drayce jabbed the centre punch – a small, handheld device that projected a sharp metallic pin, concentrating the force it exerted on the glass to a tiny area – hard and fast, and heard a click as the tool’s resistance gave way.

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