Page 45 of The Wicked
“Yes.” Upper’s drumstick trailed from his and Devil’s stick figures to a line trailing up what looked like stairs. “Inside the back room, there are two doors, one leading outside the club and the other leading upstairs to the VIP rooms. It’s used as a quick escape route for these men in case there’s an attack and they can’t leave through the elevators.”
“Got it,” Dog said.
“So, Devil and I will go up these stairs quietly. Dion bought the whole rooms, and most of his boys are stationed there.”
“How do you get past them,” I asked.
“Our guy in the chair.” His stick went back to the van. “There will be six guards stationed in front of each door; we would need to get rid of them to enter their tech room. So, our guy in the chair is to hack their comm devices and tell them that a stranger is coming up the elevator unauthorized; it’s enough to raise theirguard and divert their attention to the threat they can see; meanwhile, the coast is clear.
“Devil waits for me while I find the janitor’s closet, get into a vent, and head straight to the tech room with a mask to cover my nose from the fogless sleeping gas, which lasts about thirty minutes, so we’re going to have to be quick if we don’t want to be seen. When the guards are out like a light, I enter the room and unlock the door for Devil, who closes it behind him, and it’s like nothing ever changed.”
“And in a situation where we exceed thirty minutes?” Devil asked.
“You knock them out before they can open their eyes and realize what’s happening.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Dog said.
“So,” I said, “back to the stranger in the elevator, that’s me, right?”
“Adequate,” Upper said, pointing the drumstick to what looked like an elevator with six stick figures pointing guns at it. “They’re going to see a cute, freckled face, confused woman who looks terrified to see six guns pointed at her. Your name will be Fernanda Valez; she was a guest there before Dion. Your excuse, you wanted to retrieve a small locket you thought you lost weeks ago, and you used the opportunity since you were back in town to visit where you stayed last, or some shit lie, and then you’re probably going to stall by making them uncomfortable. You’re very good with that.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Great,” Upper said, “back to Milk and Dion. Milk, you’re an essential part of this whole thing. Dion always carries his phone with him, and his phone holds all his passwords and time counts for access to the Pablos’ server wall for classified documents, business passes, illegal dealings, and everything the Marinos need. We can’t exactly ask him to give us time access, so you’ll be given a device; the moment you get close to him, the deviceautomatically gives me access to their servers. You might need to keep talking to him until we get all we need.”
“Doable,” she said.
“Once all that is set, and Devil and I get what we need, we communicate through our comms. Zahra leaves Dion’s floor, Milk keeps talking to Dion for maybe thirty minutes tops, Devil goes back to bartending, I go to Dog at the van, and Zahra goes back to clubbing. We circle back here at ten.”
“Okay,” I said, dissecting everything in my head, looking for flaws and mistakes. “Milk and I walk in together, right? How is a sophisticated guest walking in with a bartender’s sister?”
“You walk in as friends, all giggling and girly stuff. Devil will resume work with a duffel bag holding a change of clothes for himself, except there’s one for you too. The duffel bag will be dropped in the third stall of the bathroom; the moment Milk is gone, you head there, change, and get into character.”
“Change from… my usual self or…”
Milk sat up. “Not your usual self; we’re going as Valentina and Isabella.”
“Who the fuck are they?” I asked.
Milk smirked. “My personally created disguises.”
I sighed. “I do not like the sound of that.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Zahra
Milk and I stumbled into Eden, laughing and looking as if we had just left another club to see what was happening in this one. Acting wasn’t my strong suit, but it was easy to fall into character with my blond wig, made-up face, and short red dress that Milk had forced me into.
Men’s eyes followed us, and I smiled to myself because that was all Milk’s doing. She didn’t even have to try. She didn’t have to throw suggestive smiles, she just had to be herself, and men would start crawling to her.
“I see you.”Dog’s voice resounded in our ears, where the invisible comm rested.
“Do you see them?” I asked with a grin.
“Yup, up on your six. He’s getting fucked up,”Dog said.
“Just how we want him,” Milk said as we reached the bar, smiling at the bartender. “Hi there.” Her voice went down a pitch.
