The Black Coats(60)

“As the fastest person I know, you better.” Just as Thea was about to dart away from her, Mirabelle grabbed her arm. “How are you getting out?”

Thea’s whisper was nervous. “After I get what I need, I’ll just go out the window of the records room—I’ve seen it from the outside. Then I’ll meet you down the street from Mademoiselle Corday, by the black mailbox at the end of the lane. I should be there in twenty minutes.”

Mirabelle saluted. “You better move your ass, Thea.” She gave her leader a quick hug, sharp notes of some pop star’s latest perfume enveloping Thea. Then Thea watched her friend disappear into the darkness.

Breathe in; breathe out. She counted the steps from here to the door of the sitting room, reviewing the layout in her mind. Thea took a last look at her phone. Two missed calls from Drew and one from her parents, whom she had told she had a society function tonight. Her hand paused over the screen, considering what to text Drew, running over options in her mind.

Sorry I’m being so rotten; it’s just that I’m a member of a secret society of vigilantes. P.S. I ran into a friend of mine inside your house at one in the morning, so tell me more about you, Drew.

The lights gave a short flicker; that was Mirabelle’s warning. Thea tucked her phone into her bag, pulled her hood up over her head, and crouched back on her heels. Her feet flexed in anticipation. Boom. The lights went out and everything around her plunged into darkness. Thea shot forward, her feet barely touching the ground as she zipped underneath the camera.

She counted in her mind, knowing that she had ten seconds before the camera turned back on. Two, three, four. She was through the door to the library.

Thea made it to the bookcase. Five, six, seven. The staircase spiraled up and away from her, and Thea ducked under the small chain that blocked it off. She could see the keypad now, its numbers glowing green. Eight, nine. Her hands fumbled against the keys, her mind racing from one horrible possibility to the next: Maybe this wasn’t the code. Maybe Nixon didn’t even mean to send that text to her. What was she doing here? She had made a mistake.

She punched the keys: 42815 . . . No, that was wrong. “Calm down,” she mumbled to herself in the darkness, waiting for it to reset. Her lungs constricted and Thea held her breath. Do it right this time. The lights gave a preliminary flicker and then she heard something even more terrible: murmurs in the hallway. Thea’s fingers frantically pushed the keypad. 4. 8. 1. 5. 4. 2. She held her breath. There was a buzz and a click, and the lock kicked backward. Thank God. Thea opened the door and shut it behind her, the lock buzzing again as it relocked itself. The lights flickered on behind her, and Thea leaned back against the doorway with a sigh of relief, her heart beating so loudly she feared everyone in the house could hear it.

The room was small, maybe fifteen feet by thirty feet across, and it was filled with one huge wooden block that held dozens of gold-plated filing cabinets. Knowing she had no time to waste, Thea flicked on the small flashlight that was attached to her keys and held it up to the closest cabinet, feeling a bit like Nancy Drew. A tiny gold label that read “Swallowtail” blinked back at her. Nope. Thea exhaled through her nostrils. She shut the Swallowtail drawer and opened the next one: Emperor. Nope. She reached for one more, and there it was, on the gold plate, this one shinier and newer than the rest: Banner. She quickly pulled out her file.

RECRUIT: Thea Soloman.

STRENGTHS: Speed (state track record holder); quick to adapt; high leadership potential.

WEAKNESSES: Lacking in martial arts skills; recent loss will perhaps make unstable.

ADDRESS: 3415 Canterbury Lane.

OTHER: Cousin recently deceased, homicide. Luminary investigation ongoing. See Natalie Fisher file.

TEAM ASSIGNMENT: Banner DENIED ACCEPTED (Approved by Robin Peterson)

Thea’s hand trembled. She forgot where she was, forgot that she was here to investigate the Porters. She could see only the words floating in front of her. Cousin recently deceased, homicide. Investigation ongoing. See file.

See file. She leaped up. Natalie had a file. Did the Black Coats know something the police didn’t? Thea took a step forward, the flashlight banging loudly on the cabinet.

Calm down, she warned herself. She began opening one cabinet after another, moving as fast as she could. Quickly, she found a filing cabinet marked “Targets.” Thea scanned alphabetically until her eyes lit on a black file labeled “Porter, Adam A.”

Palpable relief washed through her. This was bad, but at least it wasn’t Drew. At least Drew was still hers. She grabbed the file and folded it in half. It was risky to take it but even more risky to leave it. She stuffed it into the back of her pants and moved on, her mind only on Natalie now.

There was a loud thud outside the door and Thea froze. She heard a beep—oh God, someone is opening the door. She didn’t have time to think. She darted forward and tucked herself into the small space between the filing cabinet and the window. The door was opening slowly when she looked across the room in horror. She had left the file cabinet open. Thea stopped breathing as someone stepped into the room and spoke. “I thought I heard something up here.” The voice was strident, cold. Julie Westing. Thea’s blood froze.

A male voice answered her. Thea stuffed her shirtsleeve into her mouth to keep from making a sound. It was Sahil. “It was probably just the house. The power surge turned everything back on. Everything looks okay up here.”