Free Rocks by M. J. Lawless Page A

access—a rear bathroom which he had carefully removed the bolt to on one of his previous visits, fixing a dummy that would break with the minimum of force. This was also one of the spots of the building that was not covered by Boeckman’s intricate security system.
    Before he even thought of entering, however, he would need to deal with that. He glanced up at the building nervously. This was the moment when it was more or less impossible to disguise what he was doing, and though the street lights were dim here there was enough illumination to see him once he started moving. There was no sight of anyone inside, although he could see a dim glow from the building’s interior. That should have been enough, but he couldn’t resist pulling out his mobile phone —a nameless brand that would be smashed up and disposed of once he’d finished here. The software on it was worth infinitely more than the hardware, and he connected to the cameras inside Boeckman’s, flicking through each of them in turn. His video loop was still running, showing complete tranquillity. That at least hadn’t been detected, but his paranoia had lost him the time he’d made getting there in the first place.
    Cursing under his breath, he scooted down low to a service cover and lifted it up. Here was where the mains and various wires entered the building, and an expert eye would have eventually noticed an odd socket buried among the cables. Again, this was part of Hayden’s preparation and he retrieved from his interior pocket a small device that fit the socket perfectly. Again, that instrument —a small, thick metal disc with a flashing LED procured from an acquaintance who had links to the Israeli secret service—had cost a small fortune, but Hayden breathed a little more easily once it was in place. Those alarms configured to connect to the police would now feed into Hayden’s box of tricks. Whatever happened inside, no-one else would know.
    The bathroom window was on the first floor, and Hayden scaled up a pipe that ran alongside the wall nearby. There was a reason he kept himself so fit other than the effect it had on women, and the physical effort made him feel exhilarated and alive. Crouching on the narrow ledge, he pulled a small jemmy for one pocket, sliding it beneath the wooden window and easing it open.
    Squeezing his large frame through the window—one thing he hadn’t been able to practice—proved slightly more awkward than he’d anticipated, and for a few dreadful moments he had visions of being caught in this compromising position. Soon, however, he slithered down onto the floor and pressed himself against the wall, catching back his breath. Glancing at his watch, he saw that putting his toy in place and entering the building had taken another fifteen minutes.
    Still he did not move, however, letting himself grow used to the darkness. Only when he was ready did he press one careful foot in front of the other, stealthily creeping past the cubicles and placing an ear to the door. He couldn’t hear anything behind.
    Holding his breath, he opened the door a crack. The corridor on the other side was dark and no sound could be heard at all. Hayden had memorised the entire layout of the building and knew that the route he desired lay to the corridor to the left, through a door, down a short service stairwell and then into the well-protected vaults of Boeckman’s.
    The service stairwell was alarmed from the outside but on this level it should not have been clean. He half ran down the stairs, moving as quickly as he could while remaining as silent as possible, then listened once more at the door way and watched the dim glow that shone around its edges. There was a chance now that the security guard on patrol would be passing this area, and for a second he froze in a kind of primeval panic until, swearing at himself very softly, he opened the door.
    The hallway beyond was clear. Perspiration beginning to form on his brow, and his