The Courier. Ava McCarthy
the keycard and fed it back into the slot. She backed up against the wall in line with the door and lifted her case, ready to strike. It was the only weapon she had. Her eyes fastened on the amber dot, waiting for it to turn green.
Nothing happened.
‘What’s he doing?’ Beth whispered, clambering to her feet.
Harry shook her head. She pressed her ear up against the door. The steel was like ice on her cheek. She could make out a faint, scuffing sound, like something heavy being dragged.
Nausea slithered inside her. Dear God. He was going to use Garvin’s fingers on the sensor. Harry closed her eyes, blocking out the image of him roughing up a corpse to press dead flesh against the pad.
The numbers. Concentrate on the numbers. Ten fingers, three shots. Maybe they’d get lucky and he’d strike out.
The scuffling grew closer.
Who was she kidding? Those odds weren’t real. After all, who used their pinkie on a biometric scanner? Chances were, Garvin had used his thumb or index finger, something the man in the baseball cap had probably worked out for himself.
Four fingers, three shots. Those odds were on the killer’s side.
The scuffling stopped. Harry waved Beth to the other side of the door, and raised her case back over her head. She stared at the amber light.
Handcuffs clicked, then clattered to the floor. A trickle of sweat ran down Harry’s back. There was a grunt, a final heave. Harry counted to three. Then a soft beep sounded from the other side of the door.
Strike one.
Harry took a deep breath and flexed her fingers on the case. Beth had found a metal cashbox on one of the shelves and was holding it high over her head. She traded looks with Harry and nodded, her eyes wide with fright.
They waited. One, two, three.
Another beep, faint but unmistakable. Harry let out a long breath. He had one shot left. If he failed, he’d need a code to reset the device before he could try again. And the only person who knew that code was dead.
Sweat ran into Harry’s eyes and the amber light blurred. Beth’s breathing came fast and shallow.
Beep-beep-beep. Amber flashed to red. The man outside roared, and gunshots pumped into the lock. Harry screamed, spinning away from the door. Metal screeched as the vault’s anti-attack bolts slammed into place, dead-locking it against assault. Bullets blasted the door, round after round, until finally the shooting stopped.
Harry glanced over at Beth. She was cowering on the floor, arms over her head. Had that become her only means of defence, curling into a submissive ball? Harry rubbed at her ears. They still pounded with echoes, or maybe it was her own blood exploding through her veins.
For a long time, neither of them moved. Hot metal ticked into the vault. The air grew muggy, heavy with exhaled moisture, and for the first time Harry worried about being able to breathe. The walls seemed to crush in on her, and she fought an urge to hyperventilate. How long could they last in here without fresh air?
‘Maybe he’s gone,’ Beth whispered eventually.
‘Maybe.’ Harry slid to the floor and tried to regulate her breathing. ‘Or maybe he’s just waiting us out.’
Beth’s face crumpled, making Harry feel like a brute for pointing out the truth. She studied her for a moment: the cropped hair, the bruised eye, the fingers that plucked at the black duffel bag.
‘Are you glad Garvin’s dead?’ Harry asked.
Beth shrugged, and didn’t look up. She twisted the bag’s cord around her fingers.
Harry had another question, though she didn’t expect an answer to this one either.
‘Why did you stay with him?’
This time, Beth looked up. ‘You think that, just by leaving, the violence would’ve stopped?’ She shook her head, jerking at the drawstring on her bag. ‘Leaving is more dangerous than staying, sometimes. Unless you plan it right.’
She slid Harry a glance, then dug an envelope out of the bag.
‘Know what this is?’ She hooked her fingers under the flap and extracted something small. ‘Here, catch.’
Harry caught the tiny pellet Beth had flung into the air. She rolled it between her fingers, then held it near the red light in the door. It looked like a piece of clouded crystal, about the size of a garden pea. Even in the tiny glow of light, its metallic lustre gleamed.
‘That’s over a carat,’ Beth said. ‘Maybe a hundred and twenty-five points.’
Harry stared at her. ‘This is a diamond?’
‘A rough diamond, uncut. Africa’s finest.’
Harry turned the stone over in her hand. It felt smooth, as though coated in an oily film, and looked more like a chip of polished lead than a diamond. She shook her head.
‘So I broke into Garvin’s safe to let you steal his diamonds?’
Beth pointed to her bloodied eye. ‘Call it compensation.’
Harry stared at the frail woman in front of her. Battered wife or burglar, who could tell? At this point, Harry’s internal barometer was swinging wildly.
She held the stone out to Beth, who waved it away.
‘Keep it,’ she said. ‘You’ve earned it.’
Harry shook her head and tossed the stone into Beth’s lap. Then she sprang to her feet, her limbs suddenly twitchy with the need to get away. She switched her attention to the vault door, running her hands along the cold steel. The man with the gun must have gone by now. Surely he couldn’t risk hanging around a dead body, live witnesses or not?
‘How do we get out of here?’ Beth’s voice was tight.
But Harry wasn’t worried about how to get out. Security was paramount for this kind of vault, but its focus was to keep intruders out, not lock hapless prisoners in.
The question was not how to open the door, but what was waiting for them on the other side of it.
Harry’s fingers groped in the dark till she found what she was looking for: a long metal lever. It was the vault’s internal escape mechanism, required by safety regulations in case someone got trapped inside. The regulators probably hadn’t had her exact situation in mind, but Harry was grateful for their foresight.
She pressed her ear to the door. Nothing. Then she wiped her palms against her thighs, and gripped the lever. She glanced back at Beth.
‘Ready?’
Beth jumped to her feet and nodded, hitching the duffel bag over her shoulder.
Harry pushed the lever down with both hands. Bolts shunted back through metal, one after the other. The light flicked green. Holding her breath, Harry pressed her shoulder to the door. It didn’t budge.
Shit. Had the killer’s bullets damaged the mechanism?
She slapped her palms flat against the door, arms fully extended. ‘Come on, push.’
Beth joined her at the door, and together they heaved. A chink of light sliced into the vault.
‘Keep pushing!’ Harry said.
‘Something’s jammed up against it!’
Grunting, they leaned their weight into the door until finally it gave way, breaking open a small gap. Beth’s rail-thin figure disappeared through it.
‘Beth, wait!’ Harry froze, waiting for the spray of bullets. When it didn’t come, she peeped out into the room. It was empty.
She grabbed her case and squeezed through the gap, stumbling over the reason why the door had jammed. Garvin’s body lay wedged against it, face down on the