To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series) (24 page)

Frustration punched him hard in the face. Trevor cracked his knuckles. It only meant one thing: Mikhailov’s servers were disconnected from that network, severed from outside access. Hackers called them standalone boxes—a server which had limited access and was directly connected to a few desktops, sometimes with only one main access point, and no access to the web.

The only way to reach the server was through physical access to one of the connected computers. “It looks like the Lion’s den it is.” He spoke softly, but Cassandra must have heard him because the expression on her face was in tune with his—filled with determination and stubbornness.
She was meant to be mine.
“We need to figure out how to get in.”

“What do you have in mind?” she promptly asked.

“No clue right now. I’m sure they are armed to the teeth and their security system is guaranteed to be top of the line. We’re going to need to be inventive on this one,
a ghrá
.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Trevor?”

“Nah. Don’t fret. Nothing too crazy.” He turned around in his chair, sporting a frown and tapping his lip with a finger as thoughts circled wildly in his head. “Do me a favor, will you? Try to find out how Mikhailov hires his developers and hackers.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What the hell are you planning this time, Trevor?” A twinge of concern colored her voice.

“I think I know exactly how I’m going to gain access to their server.”

“I have seen that spark in your eyes before, Mister. Spill!” Cassie ordered him with a stern tone.

Trevor shook his head and turned up his smile a notch. “George said there’s a steady stream of people in and out of the house. Could mean they have shifts, which in turn could mean they are always in need of good developers and hackers.” Trevor paused, watching her digest the information.

“Trevor Bauer, hacker for hire?” Her tone was almost incredulous.

“Well, you’ll need to find me a better name,” he joked.

Cassandra’s eyes opened wide as understanding flooded them, and he knew she had landed on the same page.

“Yep. I’m going in the easy way. Through the front door.”

Exit Strategy

T
HE SOUNDS OF LIFE STIRRING in the apartment complex—a door slamming, little feet running, and moms calling out to their children—pulled Cassandra from sleep. It took her a moment to register her surroundings and the fact that she and Trevor were not at home in their own bed.

Stretching like a well-rested cat, she felt a slight twinge along her spine, reminding her that long hours spent in front of the computer was a body killer. Making a mental note to step away from the computer more often, she reached over and flicked Trevor softly on the nose. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Time to get to work!”

She turned on her side and leaned over him, kissing him gently on the lips as his head turned her way. His sleep-glazed eyes opened slowly and a smile glinted in them as awareness set in.

“Good morning!” she greeted him as his arms reached around and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Good morning,
caoimh-leannán
.” His brogue became heavier as he called her “sweetheart” in Gaelic. It sent shivers coursing under her skin. He dropped a kiss on her lips and yawned. “What time is it?”

Relaxing against him, she rested her head on his shoulder and lazily glanced at the crystal face of her watch. “It’s almost seven-thirty. We need to get moving. We have a lot of prep to get done.”

He tightened his arms around her in a hug, took a deep breath, and slowly expelled it. “Yes,
a bhean
. No rest for the wicked. Just give me a sec to clear my head.”

Smiling softly at being called “wife,” Cassandra turned her face into his shoulder and placed a kiss there, giving him the time he asked for. Time to recoup after the long hours he had put in since their boots hit the ground in Russia. Cradled in his arms, she watched the rise and fall of his chest, listened to the morning bustle of taxis and buses driving along Fontanka, the street just outside their window. St. Petersburg was a busy city and they were smack in the thick of it.

As Trevor drifted in and out of sleep, Cassandra began to grow antsy. Unable to relax any longer and anxious to get started, she kissed his cheek and slipped quietly from the bed.

Stepping out of the shower, she ran through a mental checklist, reviewing what they needed to do that day. She had left the cameras’ battery packs to charge overnight. The ball was in Trevor’s court to set up their transmitters and receiver. She splayed her hands on the sink and her head dropped forward as she tried to contain the anxiety churning in her gut. The understanding that Trevor would soon be knee-deep in hell rushed over her. It didn’t sit well that she would be on the sidelines, unable to have his back up close and personal or help if something went south. All she would be able to do would be to sit back and listen. Be his eyes and ears.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she padded back to the bedroom. Careful not to disturb him, Cassandra watched Trevor for a brief moment as he continued to doze. Last night she had fallen exhausted into bed, but he had stayed up, combing through the information George had provided.

All she could remember was glancing at the clock when the bed dipped and his arms wrapped around her. It had been around three in the morning when he had pulled her back against his chilled body, tucking his face in the curve of her neck before he had dropped off to sleep.
I’ll give him fifteen more minutes,
she decided as she pulled on a pair of low-cut jeans and one of Trevor’s button-down shirts.

Standing by her makeshift desk, she booted the computer and checked for new emails from George and Jessica, but there was nothing there.

The sound of rustling covers drew her attention. She turned and leaned her hip back against the table, watching as Trevor dropped his legs over the side of the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands.

Disappointment clouded his face when he spotted her. “You’re already showered and dressed.”

“Have you seen how small the damn thing is?” she countered. “There is no way my ass is sticking out while you hog the water.”

“I’d have kept you warm, Cassie.” His voice dropped in tone and his brogue thickened as a wicked glint filled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You, my love, are a shower hog and we both know it.”

Laughing, Trevor tossed back the covers and rose, heading to the washroom. The view he offered as he walked away brought back recent memories of another morning not too long ago when he afforded her the same nice view of his delicious ass.

He was still a wonder to her. Thanking the fates that brought them together, she headed to the kitchen and snorted, remembering a line from a movie: “Java, java, java.” Coffee was definitely in order.

As the coffee brewed and the kettle heated for Trevor’s tea, she returned to her laptop and began running through a series of checks to see what systems, aside from CCTV, were out there that she could tap. Once they had a sense of Mikhailov and his henchmen’s routines and had captured some still images for facial recognition, they would be able to track them through the cameras located around the city.

When the shower cut off, Cassandra headed back to the kitchen and poured Trevor’s tea along with her coffee. She turned when she heard the slap of his feet on the tile and almost dropped the cup at the sight of his lean, muscular hips encased in a towel. Not the typical-sized bath towel from back home, but a much smaller one. The skin of his thigh and the hint of other promises took her breath away. “Should I get you a camera, Cassie girl?”

“What?” she asked, slightly dazed.

“That way you can carry it with you everywhere you go.”

“What?” She looked up at him and caught the gleam in his eyes. His words finally sank in. “Shit, Trevor, get dressed.”

His face glowed with humor as he took the cup from her hand. “Here, let me take that. Can’t have the wife burning herself.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her coffee before following him back into the studio area. She settled back at her laptop and concentrated hard on keeping her eyes on the screen while listening to the rustle of clothing as Trevor dressed. Within minutes, out of her peripheral vision, she saw him walking barefooted her way.

Damn. I really love that look on him
. She was definitely not giving him that tidbit of information. The joking and teasing would never end.

“Good morning, again.” Trevor dropped a kiss on the top of her head before walking over to the desk. He set his cup beside the computer and booted it up. “So, where are we?” His eyes were riveted on his screen

“I’ve just started my tour of St. Petersburg through their CCTV cameras.”

“Do we have good quality imagery of the house?”

She shook her head. “No, we’ll need to plant the cameras as soon as possible if we’re to get those pretty mugs for ID purposes.”

“I plan to take a quick trip later at night. Do we have all of the equipment ready?”

Cassandra gave him the eyes—eyes that said,
Really? You need to ask?
He raised his hands in defense. “I know, I know. You always quadruple check everything.

She was barely able to keep the laughter from her voice. “I guess you’re forgiven.”

He logged on to the satellite imaging system—a feat accomplished with a few well-placed backdoors—and patted himself on the back.

“What the hell was that about?”

Seeing the amusement in Cassandra’s eyes, Trevor laughed. “A geek affliction. It’s usually accompanied by a ‘Damn, I’m good.’”

Cassandra snorted and he shrugged, returning his attention to the screen. High walls hid the large well-kept grounds from view to any outsider. Zooming in closer on the surrounding area, he took note of the locations he wanted to plant the surveillance cameras for the best frontal view of the house.

They needed to get this job rolling before Mikhailov found a way to finish the decrypter. That thought was first and foremost in their minds. If finished, they wouldn’t be able to stop him from wreaking havoc with the powerful tool he would have under his control. All the blame would fall on Mark Devlin, the client, and MDS, his company, once the source of the decrypter was traced back to them. A nightmare in the making.

Having spent most of the night reading through the latest transcripts and monitoring the house for more details, Trevor was confident they were on the right track to accomplishing their goal—even with the added complication of having to infiltrate the organization physically. He pushed from the desk and walked over to the equipment case. He picked up the cameras and hooked up the battery packs. Placing them at the selected locations was the only thing left on their surveillance checklist.

Setting aside the exact number of cameras needed for that night’s excursion, Trevor double checked each by switching them on and adding their individual signal to the receiver for a quick test. Cassandra had been thorough, as always. She had already set the range to the correct distance between Mikhailov’s house and their own little pad.

Connecting the receiver to his laptop, Trevor verified that the cameras were live and working. Once he had cleared that up, he attacked more mundane activities—checked his email and reported the latest developments to Devlin to keep him informed and out of their hair.

Cassandra pushed from her desk and stretched her back. “Time for some recon of the area. We need to get those tickets taken care of.”

“Good timing. I need some fresh air,” Trevor grinned at her as they gathered their jackets and headed out the door. Taking her hand in his, they walked out of the building onto the sidewalk facing the river.

The nearby metro station was a short walk from the apartment. They made their way there at a casual pace, enjoying the sun and the brisk cool breeze blowing from the canal. At the station, Trevor purchased the tickets, communicating with the cashier in fluent Russian.

“How many languages do you know?” Cassandra asked him as they exited the station.

“I have a thing for tongues.” Trevor’s expression was serious, but the humorous glint in his eyes betrayed him.

“Don’t I know it,” Cassandra’s laughter sang in the air.

A couple head-over-heels in love on a romantic getaway in St. Petersburg. Anybody watching them would reach the same conclusion. It did help that they were indeed in love—that part was no pretense. But instead of viewing the area as tourists would, they both took mental notes of their route, the places around them that could be useful exit points, and distances to and from the metro stations. It gave them a visual to go with the details of the contingency plan they would be reviewing later.

“We should have the debriefing after the cameras are placed so that we both know what the alternate plan and the exit strategy are,” he said softly, for Cassandra’s ears only.

She nodded and responded in the same quiet tone, “I have it all ready for you.”