Whispers in the storm

The drive to the estate was fraught with tension. Nathaniel hot-wired an old sedan they found parked in a dark alley, and they sped toward the outskirts of the city, avoiding main roads to stay off the radar. Rain began to fall again, streaking the windshield and mirroring Eleanor's unease.

Nathaniel clenched the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. "This place isn't just their headquarters. It's where they run their operations—the heart of their power."

Eleanor looked out at the darkened streets, her mind racing. "What kind of security are we talking about?"

"Armed guards, surveillance, probably motion sensors. Breaking in will be nearly impossible," Nathaniel said. Then, as an afterthought, he glanced at her. "But not for us."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "Us? Do you have some hidden expertise I don't know about?"

Nathaniel gave a grim smile. "Let's just say I've been in and out of places like this before. They don't expect anyone to come after them, especially not two desperate fugitives."

Eleanor didn't find his confidence reassuring, but she nodded. They didn't have another choice.

The estate was a sprawling fortress, surrounded by high walls and dense woods. Floodlights illuminated the grounds, casting long, eerie shadows. From their vantage point in the trees, Eleanor and Nathaniel surveyed the scene.

"We'll go around the south perimeter," Nathaniel whispered, pointing to a section of the wall partially obscured by overgrown bushes. "There's less visibility there. Once we're inside, we'll stick to the shadows."

Eleanor nodded, her heart pounding as they moved silently through the underbrush. The sound of rain muffled their footsteps, but every snap of a twig felt deafening.

When they reached the wall, Nathaniel pulled a coil of rope from his backpack, attaching a small grappling hook. He tossed it over the top, the hook catching with a faint clink.

"You first," he said, holding the rope steady.

Eleanor hesitated, then grabbed the rope and began to climb. Her muscles burned as she hoisted herself up, the rough surface scraping her palms. She reached the top, carefully straddling the wall before descending on the other side.

Nathaniel followed swiftly, landing beside her with barely a sound. He motioned for her to follow him, and they darted toward the shadows of the nearest building.

The estate was eerily quiet, save for the occasional crackle of static from the guards' radios. They moved cautiously, avoiding the well-lit areas and sticking close to the walls.

"Where would they keep the notebook?" Eleanor whispered.

Nathaniel glanced toward the main building. "In the central office. That's where the high-level decisions are made—and where they'd store something this important."