City of Saints & Thieves(44)

“You’re just saying that because you’re too far away for me to punch you,” I say, but I shift in Mr. G’s big seat, sparks of guilt igniting in my gut. I look over at the leather couch. The thought of my mother slumping into death kindles my anger again and the moment passes.

It doesn’t take long to get back into Mr. Greyhill’s computer and hard drive, now that we’ve had practice. Soon Boyboy is shuffling screens like a card trick.

“Come to Papa,” he says. After a few seconds he clucks impatiently. “The signal is still weak. I tried to boost the bandwidth, but it’s slow.”

He’s talking more to himself than me, and I let him do his thing while I turn to inspect the bookshelf. I tuck the phone between my shoulder and my ear and run my fingers along the shelves’ edges. Nothing. No hinges, no indication of a hidden door or camera. I pull books out, mess with the little wooden statues of Masai warriors that line one shelf. It doesn’t move.

I look back at the computer. The screen is full of lines of code.

“Keep the phone—next—computer, Tina. I—to close the GPS tracker,” Boyboy says. “It’s slowing—down too much. Bug Eye will—their car pulling in.”

I lay my phone next to the computer, go back to the bookshelf, and continue to poke. Where is the camera? And how did Michael get the door open? When he came through, I was too busy staring at the photo of my mother to know he was even there, much less how he got in. I don’t see anything that could be a latch. Starting from the bottom, I work my way back up the shelves again. I’m at the Masai statues when I hear Boyboy’s faint voice shouting my name.

I grab the phone and put it to my ear. “What?”

“Greyhills’ car—pulling in right now!”

I curse, then watch as a tiny screen pops up on the computer. “What’s that?” It looks like surveillance footage.

“The hallway leading to the office—keep an eye on it!”

“How much time do you need?” I ask.

“More than—got,” Boyboy says. “Just—let me see what I can do.”

I look around helplessly. Damn this room and its no windows. Mr. Greyhill may not come directly up to his office, but I’m not ready to stick around and find out. I’ve got to have enough time to get out the office door and around the corner without being seen.

“Hurry,” I say.

“That’s not helping,” Boyboy singsongs.

I keep my eyes glued to the hallway. It’s empty. For now. If Mr. G shows up on the screen it means I have about ten seconds before getting caught. Unless . . . I put the phone back next to the computer and swivel to the bookcase. There has to be a way to open it. But I’ve tried everything. I turn back to the desk, and grope underneath.

“It’s too late,” I hear Bug Eye say. I grab the phone back with one hand and keep searching with the other. “The cameras are show—coming inside. Greyhill—be there any second. Get out, Tina.”

Boyboy must still be working. The computer screen continues to flash through files.

“Did he get it all?”

“You can come back later!” Bug Eye says.

I don’t answer, my fingers sliding down the desk’s wood paneling. There has to be a lever or a button or—“Got it!” I jab the tiny switch and turn to see the bookshelf gliding noiselessly open. A cool breath of air rushes in. “I got the secret door open!”

“Oh Lord, good thing,” I hear Boyboy say in the background.

I look back at the screen.

Mr. Greyhill is coming down the hallway.

“Are you done?” I ask.

“It’s almost—mavi.”

“What?”

The computer screen flickers and then goes black.

Boyboy’s curse comes through loud and clear. Suddenly a cartoon rabbit pops up on the screen and wags his finger at us. “No, no, no!” the bunny says.

“What the—?” I hear Boyboy’s fingers pause, then start to tap again. More rabbits appear.

“I’m leaving,” I say, and reach for the USB.

“Wait!” Boyboy shouts. “It’s a fork bomb! He’ll know someone’s been here!”

Bunnies jump all over the screen, and choruses of “No, no, no!” grow more dense.

“We don’t have time!” I look up, listening for the sound of a key scraping in the lock.

“Aaaaand, okay, now! Go!” Boyboy says.

I yank the USB out. The screen goes black, and I slap down the lid. I throw the computer and hard drive in the desk drawer, then shove myself into the space behind the bookshelf. I pull it shut just as the door to the office opens. Bracing myself on the cold damp wall, I listen, my heart hammering. I lift the phone back to my ear with a shaking hand. Through static I hear Boyboy sucking in deep asthmatic breaths, even though he’s not actually in physical danger.

“Oh my God—Tina?” Boyboy gasps. “Are you okay?”

“I made it. I’m in the tunnel,” I whisper.

Boyboy’s breath whooshes in relief. “Now I rem—why you’re the thief and I—nerd. I think I’m having—panic attack.”

“Shh. Did you get it all?”

“I think—need to check.”