Page 83 of Afraid to Hope

The young men took turns pulling the heavy cart over a mile away, along streets lined with numerous tired-looking, baked-clay buildings, and stopped in front of one in slightly better condition than those around it. An immense, dark wood door next to the overhead door was its only adornment. Connor beat the ringed knocker impatiently against the door until a face appeared behind the small grated window. Words were spoken and the overhead door opened. It shut immediately after they pulled the cart through. Natasha and Bane were unable to see anything else from their vantage point.

“As I see it, these are our options,” Bane said. “We can go in tonight, without reconnaissance, not knowing if they patrol the building. Or we wait until tomorrow night when we have more insight. Pick your poison.”

“Let’s come back later tonight.”

Bane gave her a long look and considered. “Tonight could go sideways. You ready to face that possibility?”

“I am. Based on what we’ve seen, there’s a pattern of carelessness. One, Amastan was able to hold on to two of the ledgers, and two, Zach and Connor showed up with a cart in broad daylight. My gut tells me the level of carelessness extends to the building we’re going into tonight. We can take the day to read though the ledgers and take notes. Plan and prepare. Let’s walk along the river on the way back, okay? It’s roughly the same distance.” She turned back.

Bane fell in beside her. In fifteen minutes, they arrived at their bed-and-breakfast and were given an early check-in.

Once they were on the outskirts of the city center, the night became as dark as pitch. Cloud cover had moved in, extinguishing ambient light. It was their friend, providing additional cover for their purpose. But the darkness also slowed them down as they traversed the uneven surface of dirt, concrete, and stone.

Natasha kept her flashlight at her side, illuminating the ground just in front of her until she and Bane were close to the building Zach and Connor had entered with the overflowing cart. She and Bane wore small black tactical backpacks that blended in with their dark clothing. Natasha turned off the flashlight, latched it to her belt, and pulled the infrared goggles over her eyes. The IR illuminator Bane had affixed to the goggles enhanced detail and dimension. She could see Bane clearly in front of her, his heat signature giving him form.

He stopped, raised his left arm at a right angle with an open hand, and dropped into a crouch.

She stopped and dropped behind him. What had he seen or sensed? She hadn’t picked up anything other than small rodents.

They stayed like that for several minutes until he stood and raised his arm above his shoulder, close-fisted, and pumped it in the air.

Natasha scurried behind him and flattened against the building and whispered, “I didn’t see any heat signatures other than mice.”

“They’re fucking rats.”

“Oh.” Natasha gulped. Jesus, she hated rats.

“Something was moving. Uh… I can make it out now. It’s some type of fabric. Let’s go.”

The front door was locked from the inside, as expected, so they went around to the back. A wall, roughly twelve feet at its tallest point, made of clay, straw, and branches, extended from the back, bordering a small outdoor space. It was in rough shape—sections had sheared off and standing in the rubble next to it was difficult.

Bane shook his head in disbelief. “This is bullshit. Nothing like an insecure perimeter.”

“Maybe that’s the point. The appearance negates anything of importance.”

“Careless. Easy to breach.”

“Yes,” Natasha said, using her knife to test the softness. “I think we can scale it if we make footholds and use the branches to pull ourselves up.”

Bane jabbed at the wall with his knife. “Shouldn’t take long.”

It took less than thirty minutes to create the necessary footholds, placing them where straw and branches provided more support.

He pulled paracord from his backpack and tied both lines to a scrappy tree, then tugged to make sure it would hold. “You go first since you’re much lighter. If we have to, I’ll bring you back immediately. Okay?”

“Okay.”

They secured the cord to each of them, and Bane helped Natasha to the first foothold. She scrambled up quickly, clearly impressing him with her agility.

At the top, Natasha’s hand slipped on the crumbling wall and she teetered, dropping to the other side and landing on her back in a pile of dirty blankets. “Oof! Jesus Christ!” She flipped up her goggles and did a mental inventory of her body after the hard fall. Nothing broken or sprained, but bruises and stiffness were going to be her constant companions in the coming days. The impact had jarred the goggles over the bridge of her nose. She might end up with back eyes too. Great.

“Nat?” Bane peered down from the top of the wall. He pushed up and over, sinking deeply into his landing next to her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just had the wind knocked out of me,” she said weakly, releasing herself from the paracord. “Give me a minute. I meant to land like you did, but the wall is falling apart. Dammit. I’m going to have some bruises.”

Bane unhooked himself and glanced around. He knelt, leaning over her and flipping his goggles up. His thumb stroked her cheek, his eyes full of concern, pinning hers before he kissed her slowly.

She deepened the kiss, then pouted when he pulled back.

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