I clung, quivering, to the outside of the glass, cursing myself for being so stupid. What did I think was going to happen if I attempted this heist by myself? It was risky and dangerous – and that was before my harness had snapped, sending my anchor rope tumbling a hundred feet to the ground below.
And left me clinging to the outside of a skyscraper with nothing but some suction cups and a less-than-healthy hyperventilation habit.
I pressed myself against the cold glass, as the wind began to buffet me in earnest, as if it knew I wasn’t supported anymore and was striking for its chance at taking me. I could picture it so clearly, my ragdoll body twisting in the air as I plummeted towards the—
No, I snapped my brain back into focus, forcing myself to look inside the office I’d been about to rob. Concentrate on the inside, not the outside.
It was a lovely commercial office design, for Melbourne at least. I’d seen nicer designs in some of the European capitals, but Melbourne had a certain charm, with its insistence on glass and wood.
Nerves momentarily under my control again, I reached into my back pocket for the cutting implement I’d been storing there. I’d meant to use it on a window three stories up – my actual target – but I figured all of the glass was probably the same thickness.
Well… prayed it was the same thickness.
I found the implement, pressing it against the window firmly and scraping it to make a hole that was roughly me-shaped. The Melbourne office fitout trends were on my side for this one – there was nothing pressed directly against the window – just a clear shot between me and some patterned carpet.
I continued to cut and twist, forcing myself to exact precise lines – the sloppiness that my rattled brain and body demanded of me would only ensure I never made it inside. Precision was the key. Precision was the—
With a crash, the glass gave way, and it shrieked as I tumbled inside.
Safe.