John O'Brien - Reckoning

With one hand on my M-4, I lay still and listen. If the blip was noticed, a security team will be sent to investigate. It wouldn’t be in my best interest for them to emerge from the door and look up to see my smiling face as I fuck with their camera. Emitting small breath plumes, which I cover as best as I can within the fold of my elbow, I wait fifteen minutes, which should be more than long enough for anyone to show up. There’s nothing but the darkness surrounding me and the cold of the roof that seeps through my layers of clothing, chilling even the dry suit.

Inching back to the edge, I insert the reconfigured network sniffer and connect it to the mirrored port. Harold said it should almost instantaneously configure itself, but I give it a few seconds. Removing the sniffer, I insert the recorder into the same port and watch the small display to verify that it’s picking up the video feed, noting that the video isn’t sending time and date information as part of the data. That will most likely be displayed by the video system in the security room itself. The fact that the camera isn’t rotating makes it much easier as I won’t have to clip the video to present a continuous path as it goes through a looped playback.

I set the recorder to ‘record’ and let it run for a minute. Moving the recorder to an open port, port two, I set it to do a looped playback. Now the tricky part. I plug the sniffer into the switch on port three while pulling the cable from the camera, which I reattach to the mirrored port as per Harold’s instructions.

The small display on the recorder shows the low-light image from the front of the building with small differences in the heat showing up from a thermal overlay. If it all works correctly, I should be able to work on the door without being seen and the system will still show that the camera is online and sending video. Satisfied, I place electrical tape over the small recorder display and, with my chest hurting from hanging over the edge of the roof, I move back and wait for any response.

Either I really fucked up and the security team is laughing so hard that they can’t move, or the contraption is functioning the way it’s supposed to. Regardless, no one comes to investigate.

Giving it another measure of time, I climb down from the roof, smooth over my tracks, and edge toward the front, keeping my senses tuned to the area around me for any sound out of the ordinary. I especially watch the door looking for the barest hint of movement. With a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I hug the wall toward the steel door leading inside.

Internally, I feel both numb and anxious. The conflict of emotions stems from maintaining my entire focus on the next step while also feeling the anxiety of knowing that I could be discovered at any moment; the racing heartbeat, senses tuned so fine that even the noise of grass bending under a boot sounds loud, nervous sweat oozing from pores. Without the ability to force the mind to focus, those emotions would run wild, causing fingers to slip and fear to escalate.

Taking out a flashlight, I shield it, letting only a thin beam of light exit. Shining it in the crack of the door, I see a metal strip a couple of inches above the bottom. Actually, it’s two strips of metal in contact with each other. If these two strips separate, it will trigger an alarm, or at the very least, it will display an alert.

Taking my steel slim jim, I run it behind the latch and ease the door ajar, opening it only far enough so that the latch won’t re-engage, and so that the magnets at the bottom of the door stay in contact. Taking a thin set of calipers, I place one of the small magnets Bannerman located in the narrow jaws and tighten it enough to hold it in place. Easing the doors open so that the metal strips remain in contact, I gently slide the calipers in the gap behind the door-side contact. Luckily the door opens outward or this would be impossible. Any slip here and it will be over. The facility will be alerted and my ass will be hanging out over a very large cliff.

As I draw the door open more, I move the magnet in the caliper along frame-side contact, slowly replacing the door sensor with the magnet. The magnet rotates slightly and, with a click, it snaps onto the metal strip set into the jamb, completing the circuit. Opening the door barely wide enough, I slide through the gap and step inside.

I gently ease the door closed behind me. The sensor on the door will move the magnet I placed out of the way while keeping the circuit closed. The magnet is likely to stay attached to the door or metal frame. It won’t fall off so it shouldn’t be noticed by anyone unless they happen to look very closely.

With the faint click of the latch, the outside world is shut off, at least from my mental perspective. Crouching with the door at my back, I let out a sigh. I wasn’t sure that I would have been able to make it this far. Now that I’m inside, I know that each step will take me closer to a point of no return. I pretty much came to that point when I jumped out of the 130, but now each step takes me closer to situations where I could be caught.

Ahead, concrete stairs descend to a small landing before continuing down to the right. Concrete-poured walls rise to either side, joining with a slab overhead. Except for a faint glow of light emanating from somewhere down the steps, it’s dark. I look to the top of the door searching for a camera but don’t find one. I’m pretty sure I don’t have to worry about night runners here, but I open up just in case. There aren’t any around that I can sense. I take a few moments to calm my rapidly beating heart. I forgot just how much I hate being inside of buildings.

Looking at my watch, I note that I have plenty of time before the dark of the night ends. I still have a ways to go, along with the probability that there are more difficult security measures to beat. A few deep breaths bring my heart rate down but the underlying anxiety remains.

Rising, I test my pack and gear to ensure that there isn’t any sound that issues forth from movement. With my carbine held at the ready and hugging the wall, I begin descending the steps. Near the first landing, I place my mirror at the corner and look around.

The stairs continue down to intersect the end of a hall where a very faint amount of light is being cast from some source farther along the corridor. Close to the ceiling, on the near side, large conduits are anchored to the slabs of concrete overhead. At my end of the hall, the conduits continue through the wall. Step by step, I start down, my senses tuned for any sound, for the movement of a shadow showing in the faint light.

The stairs and hall have the musty scent of not having been used in a long time. It also has the distinct smell that all concrete rooms and stairwells seem to possess. Although the air is chilly, the stairs and hall are dry and I feel a hint of warmth. At the bottom of the stairs, I look around the corner once again using the signal mirror.

At the far end of the hall, about thirty yards away, there’s another steel door with a keypad next to it. In the corner on the far side of the door, twin floodlights cast a brilliant light down the hall that reaches almost to the stairwell. I see another stationary camera positioned above the door. The conduits, which are almost directly overhead, continue down the length of the hallway and through the far wall. At intervals, steel rods hang down from the ceiling to hold brackets that are supporting the steel pipes.

Three of the conduits are large ones placed side-by-side with others running between or on top. Several smaller ones are held by brackets as they run along the wall. I look for placards that might indicate what they are being used for but don’t see any from my vantage point. I guess I’ll just have to take the risk that none are being used for hazmat waste or radiated water. It would make it a little difficult to hide if I glowed in the dark.