Last Westgard Standing
"Right… almost there."
Silas crouched in the hallway of the apartment complex, fingers dancing over the exposed control panel beside the door. The metal hatch that normally protected the wiring hung open, giving the former criminal direct access to its guts. Years ago, the pirates who'd held him captive had forced him to learn how to break into places like this. Refusal usually came with the promise of a missing finger. Now, at least, he could put those ugly lessons to better use.
Getting this far hadn't been easy. He'd had to pass the reception desk, where a stubborn old woman guarded the entrance like a fortress. It had taken time, and more charm than he liked to use,but he'd convinced her to let him through without a pass. At least he hadn't needed to dip into mind tricks. That was a line he preferred not to cross.
A soft green light blinked on the panel.
"Bingo," he murmured.
He slid the hatch back into place and eased the door open, slipping inside. The door clicked shut behind him, and he froze, listening for footsteps, breathing, anything. After a few long seconds of silence, he finally allowed himself a quiet sigh.
If the spies he'd captured on Azbrian were telling the truth, the apartment should be empty.
Now all he had to do was find the terminal, and the intel waiting inside it.