Page 2 of Factory Thief

I freeze when the cold, hard barrel of a pistol jams into the back of my head. The voice is familiar. If it were anyone else, anyone at all, I’d try something to get away. This man I fear will shoot me if I give him half the chance.

“Is that you, Andrew?” I ask. “What a pleasant surprise.”

My calm demeanor belies the cold, gnawing fear in my belly. They’ve found me. After so many years, the Factory has found me at last.

“Aw, do you really mean that? I’m touched. Then again, you always were my favorite pupil. Oh, and you can stop trying to reach for that stun gun you’ve got strapped to your thigh, and put your hands in the air, now.”

“Are you here to kill me, Andrew?”

He doesn’t answer. The gun presses harder into my head, enough to hurt. “Up against that tree.”

I move until I’m pressed against the rough bark of an oak. Andrew keeps the gun against my head while he removes the taser and knife. He snaps the rigid steel of a handcuff manacle around my wrist and, moving the painting out of the way, yanks my arm behind me.

“Is this really necessary?”

“We’ve been looking for you for years, Tori,” Andrew replies, an almost apologetic tone in his voice. “You’re like a ghost. Vanishing like water on a hot griddle when we even get close to your trail.”

“Thank you—ow, that’s too tight.”

“Stop fighting and it won’t hurt so much.”

I feel a sharp pain in my left thumb, accompanied by a metallic click.

“Come on, Andrew, are you kidding me? Thumb cuffs?”

“Are you forgetting I’m the one who taught you to pick locks? Don’t worry, I’m just making sure you stick around for our little chat.”

He steps away, still holding the gun on me. “Turn around.”

I turn about, glaring him down. He looks much the same, an unassuming fortysomething man with sandy blond hair and an entirely forgettable appearance. Andrew has more gray near his temples than he used to, but other than that he hasn’t changed.

“What do you want?”

“It’s time to repay your favor, Tori. We got you out of juvie hall, remember?”

“Yeah and put me to work for you.”

“We trained you to be the best at what you do, free of charge. All you had to do was agree to repay the favor at some point. Instead, you ran.”

“So, this is about revenge?”

Andrew chuckles. “Far from it. Revenge isn’t the Foundation’s style. Too messy, too emotional. No, we just want you to honor the deal you agreed to.”

“When I was a teenager. It’s hardly legally binding.”

“Legality? Really? You, a professional thief, should know better than to throw legality around.”

I sigh. “So, what do you want me to steal?”

Andrew grins. “Not what, who. We want you to get Jack Drake out of prison.”

“The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

Andrew sighs. “He’s the guy convicted of stabbing his elderly neighbor in the back more than fifty times, leaving a smiley face pattern.”

I scowl. I’ve seen the crime scene photos; who hasn’t? It was all over the internet for a while. “Why on earth would you want to break out a sicko like that?”

“That’s not your concern. Your concern is getting him out, alive.”

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