Story by Claire Hines, Year 11
He let the rope down swiftly, on the left of the wall out of sight of the
windows. He had five minutes until the spotlight was on this side of the
building again.
He grabbed the rope silently in his hands, and after checking it was securely
tied to the skylight he began to descend. His leather gloves protected his hands
from being burnt by the rope as he sped downwards to his destination and
enhanced his grip. He rushed down four stories in a matter of seconds and
stopped by the window at his right. A platinum shielding concealed the interior
from view but he knew he was at the right place thanks to hours of
memorising the facility’s blueprints.
He knotted the rope onto his belt and rapidly extricated his glass melter from
his pocket. It was a small metal box of his own invention which he fixed to the
glass pane of the window. It took only fifteen seconds to soften glass
sufficiently, but fifteen seconds was a long time if you only had just over four
minutes and counting before a blinding light exposed you.
He counted the seconds in his head calmly and then removed the device. The
glass was now in a sticky liquid state and slid slowly down the wall, an alien mass
released from the constraints of solidity. He placed his fingers in the hole made
by his tool and pulled gently. The gooey mass gave way and folded to the side
under the pressure of his strong hand. Three minutes, seventeen seconds, and
counting…
He then reached through the gap to attach a different device to the metal
screen behind. This one would rearrange the molecular structure of the
platinum in twenty seconds at the end of which he’d be able to bend it. While
he counted the time, he prepared his false trail. He placed a tiny hologram disc
on the window frame and silently took a coil of rope from his belt which he
proceeded to fix to the wall with a glue pellet (one of the finer inventions of
this year of twenty thirty-two). He then lay the rope on the window sill where
he could let it down at a moment’s notice.
He removed the device and carefully returned it to his back pocket, he then
pulled himself up onto the window sill and knelt on it. He proceeded to push
the metal shielding upwards. It screeched and bent inwards. He forced it up as
high as it would go and turned on his headlamp. Two minutes forty-eight
seconds…
The room within was small for what it was with a large table in the centre. The
walls were lined with steel lockers labelled in alphabetical order. He looked at
the labels: Pa, Pb, Pc… This was the place. He undid the rope about his waist
unperturbed by the fact that a single slip would send him hurtling ten floors
down to his doom. He turned back to the room with the knowledge that if
anything touched the ground an alarm would bring security running.
He drew up his knees, put his feet against the window frame and outstretched
his hands. He then pushed with all the strength his legs possessed and flew
through the air to land spread eagle on the table.
He blessed the person who had made it for their superb job before pulling
himself up in a crouching position. He then sprang on top of the cabinet with
the labels Pk to Pp. Once on top he leant over and attached his multi-lock
cracker to the compartment marked Pl which swung open with a click a few
seconds later.
He flipped threw the files within until he found the one, he needed and thrust
it into the inner pocket of his jacket. He proceeded to retrace his steps (or
leaps) back to the window. One minute thirty-one and counting…
He flung the decoy rope down the wall and activated the hologram disc.
Instantly the image of a dark man with a terrified gaze materialised before his
eyes. That should stall them he thought before leaping fearlessly into space
and catching the waiting rope. He climbed up rapidly, forty-four seconds…
Once on the roof, he wound the rope about his waist and lay still, flat on his
face. The spotlight lit up the wall and quested along it before freezing on the
window he had just left. An alarm rang out, as shouts and footsteps were
heard.
He smiled, by the time security figured out it was an illusion he would be long
gone. He stood up and turned on his jetpack. He then proceeded to fly silently
through the air and landed on the next street. There he hid in an alleyway as a
police car sped by.
He got into his car and opened the hollow compartment under the front seat
at his side. He shoved his jacket and jetpack inside before closing it up
carefully. He calmly put on the coat lying on the back seat, and drove away, a
curious smile on his face.
The Pluto file had been stolen.
