“Up!” Marcus shouted.
Lena hesitated.
“Parking level three is down.”
“Then he expects us to go down.”
They climbed.
One floor.
Then another.
Marcus could hear the stranger behind them.
Slow.
Unhurried.
As if he knew exactly where they were going.
By the time they reached the ground floor, Lena was breathing heavily.
Thomas pushed open the stairwell door.
The hallway beyond was empty.
Too empty.
Westbridge Center should have been filled with employees.
Instead, the lights were dim.
The elevators were stopped.
A low alarm sounded somewhere in the building.
Marcus stepped into the hallway.
“What happened?”
Thomas checked his phone.
Still no signal.
Then the emergency speakers above them crackled.
A computerized voice filled the corridor.
Attention. A temporary security malfunction has been detected. Please remain in your current location until further instructions are provided.
Marcus looked at Thomas.
“Security malfunction?”
Thomas shook his head.
“That announcement doesn’t come from the building system.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s not the right voice.”
Lena stared at the speaker.
“He’s inside the system.”
Marcus felt a cold pressure settle in his chest.
Someone had access to the security network.
Someone could manipulate cameras.
Disable communication.
Control access doors.
And now, apparently, make announcements throughout the building.
Marcus thought of Richard Bennett.
Then he thought of Eleanor.
“Her office.”
Thomas looked at him.
“What about it?”
Marcus began walking.
“We need to get to Eleanor.”
They moved quickly through the empty hallway.
As they approached the lobby, they heard voices.
Employees were gathering near the main entrance, confused by the sudden security announcement.
Marcus stopped behind a column.
“Wait.”
Thomas looked around.
“What are you doing?”
Marcus pointed toward the executive elevator.
A man stood beside it.
Richard Bennett.
Marcus felt immediate suspicion.
Bennett was speaking into his radio.
His expression was tense.
Lena whispered, “Is that him?”
Marcus nodded.
“Maybe he caused this.”
Before Thomas could respond, Bennett suddenly turned.
His eyes locked directly onto Marcus.
For one long second, neither moved.
Then Bennett began walking toward them.
Marcus instinctively stepped back.
“Cole!”
Marcus didn’t answer.
Bennett reached them.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Marcus stared at him.
“Investigating.”
“With whose authorization?”
Marcus hesitated.
Bennett looked at Thomas.
Then Lena.
His expression changed.
“Who is she?”
“Lena Ortiz,” Marcus said. “Maintenance.”
Bennett frowned.
“Maintenance reported you missing.”
Lena looked shocked.
“What?”
Bennett turned toward her.
“Your supervisor said you left your assigned area at nine fifteen.”
Lena’s face went pale.
“That’s impossible. I was down in the service tunnel.”
Marcus watched Bennett carefully.
“You knew?”
Bennett looked at him.
“Knew what?”
“That we were underground.”
Bennett’s jaw tightened.
“Cole, I’ve been trying to locate you for the last forty minutes.”
Marcus reached into his pocket.
The access card.
He pulled out the evidence bag.
Bennett’s eyes immediately dropped to it.
Marcus noticed.
“You recognize this?”
Bennett did not answer immediately.
Then he said, “Where did you get that?”
“So it’s yours.”
“Yes.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“We found it in the underground tunnel.”
Bennett’s face hardened.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because I lost that card three months ago.”
Silence.
Marcus stared at him.
“You lost it?”
“Yes.”
“And you never reported it?”
Bennett looked furious.
“I did report it.”
Thomas frowned.
“Then why wasn’t it deactivated?”
Bennett turned toward him.
“It was.”
Marcus looked down at the card.
The question was obvious.
If Bennett’s card had been deactivated months ago, how had it been used to enter the service tunnel that morning?
Bennett seemed to understand the same thing.
Someone had either reactivated it—
—or created a duplicate.
Lena suddenly stepped forward.
“I heard them.”
Bennett looked at her.
“The men in the tunnel. One of them said you would take the blame.”
Bennett’s expression changed.
Not anger.
Recognition.
Marcus noticed.
“You know something.”
Bennett looked around the lobby.
Employees were still gathering near the entrance.
Security officers were trying to restore order.
This was not a safe place to talk.
“Come with me,” Bennett said.
Marcus did not move.
Bennett lowered his voice.
“Cole, if I wanted you arrested, I could have done it already.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“No,” Bennett replied. “But Eleanor will.”
Marcus’s suspicion deepened.
“What does Ms. Brooks have to do with this?”
Bennett looked directly at him.
“More than you realize.”
Before Marcus could respond, every light in the lobby suddenly flashed.
Once.
Twice.
Then the emergency speakers crackled again.
But this time, there was no computerized voice.
Instead, everyone heard a man speaking.
Calm.
Clear.
And unmistakably close.
“Good afternoon, Westbridge.”
The lobby fell silent.
Marcus felt his blood run cold.
He recognized the voice.
The man with the black briefcase.
“I apologize for the interruption to your workday.”
People began looking around.
Security officers moved toward the control room.
Marcus stared at the speaker.
“But before normal operations can continue, I believe it is time for the employees of this building to learn something.”
Bennett suddenly moved.
“Get Eleanor.”
Marcus looked at him.
“What?”
“Now!”
The voice continued.
“For years, Westbridge Center has hidden its secrets behind locked doors, security codes, and executive authority.”
Marcus ran.
Thomas followed.
Lena remained with Bennett.
Marcus reached the executive elevator.
The doors were locked.
Of course.
He hit the emergency override.
Nothing.
Thomas arrived behind him.
“Try the stairs!”
They ran.
The voice followed them through every speaker in the building.
“Some people believe that authority gives them the right to decide who belongs.”
Marcus thought of Eleanor.
Then himself.
The irony made him sick.
“Others believe that a uniform gives them the right to control those they do not understand.”
Marcus climbed faster.
Someone had been watching him from the beginning.
Watching his confrontation with Eleanor.
Using it.
Turning his mistake into part of something larger.
When Marcus finally reached the executive floor, the hallway was dark.
The door to Eleanor’s office stood open.
“Ms. Brooks!”
No answer.
Marcus entered.
The room was empty.
But on her desk was the worn leather folder she had carried that morning.
Beside it sat a single black access card.
Marcus stepped closer.
There was a message written on a piece of paper.
He picked it up.
Only six words were written across the page.
YOU ASKED WHO I TRUST.
Marcus turned the paper over.
On the other side was one more sentence.
NOW ASK WHO TRUSTS YOU.
Thomas stood behind him.
“Marcus.”
Marcus slowly looked toward the window.
Far below, Chicago stretched across the afternoon rain.
Somewhere in that city, the man with the black briefcase was still moving.
And now Eleanor Brooks was missing.
Marcus stared at the empty office.
For the first time since arriving at Westbridge Center, he no longer felt like a security officer trying to correct a mistake.
He felt like someone standing in the middle of a game he did not understand.
Someone had planted evidence.
Someone had manipulated the security system.
Someone had turned Richard Bennett into a suspect.
And now they had taken the one person who might have understood why.
Marcus closed his hand around the note.
Then he made a decision.
“We find her.”
Thomas looked at him.
“How?”
Marcus stared at the black access card on Eleanor’s desk.
This time, he did not hesitate.
“We start by finding out where this card leads.”
And somewhere, hidden behind the walls of Westbridge Center, a camera silently recorded his every move.
Marcus stood in Eleanor Brooks’s darkened office, staring at the black access card lying on her desk.