Chapter 29 - THE MAN AT THE SERVICE ELEVATOR
The building went into lockdown.
This time, Emily did not argue with security.
She stayed in the boardroom while state police searched every floor.
Matthew watched through the video connection.
“You’re being suspiciously reasonable,” he said.
“I learned from several terrible experiences.”
“Proud of you.”
“Don’t.”
“Sorry.”
At 5:17, security found an abandoned janitorial cart on floor nine.
At 5:19, a camera caught a man in maintenance clothes entering the service elevator.
His face was hidden by a respirator mask.
At 5:21, the elevator stopped on twenty.
The boardroom floor.
Emily’s heartbeat climbed.
Tom Reeves locked the glass doors.
Two state troopers took position outside.
Nothing happened.
One minute.
Two.
Then the lights flickered.
Emily stared at the ceiling.
“Seriously?”
Tom said, “Backup power is already isolated.”
“Good.”
A scraping sound came from inside the wall.
Everyone turned.
The service duct behind the old records cabinet shook.
Tom raised his weapon.
The panel burst open.
Graham Ambrose crawled through.
Alive.
Paler.
Thinner.
Furious.
He held a pistol.
“Down!” Tom shouted.
Ambrose fired first.
The bullet shattered a glass partition.
Directors dropped under the table.
Emily ducked behind a credenza.
State troopers fired through the doorway.
Ambrose disappeared into the executive office corridor.
Emily heard Matthew through the boardroom speaker.
“Stay there.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“I hate that you sound surprised.”
Gunfire cracked again.
A trooper shouted.
Then silence.
Tom whispered, “He’s moving toward Arthur’s old office.”
Emily’s stomach dropped.
The office safe.
The hidden archive.
The master company servers.
Ambrose was not there to kill her.
Not first.
He wanted something.
Emily looked at Tom.
“The server room is behind Dad’s office.”
“I know.”
“Can he wipe it?”
“With root access.”
Arthur.Hale had been reactivated from East Dock.
Ambrose had the credentials.
Emily grabbed Helen’s dropped badge from the table.
Tom saw her.
“No.”
“I can lock the server room locally.”
“From here?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
Emily looked at him.
Tom shook his head.
“I have a concussion, not a death wish.”
She almost laughed.
Then the building’s network dashboard flashed red.
REMOTE WIPE INITIATED.
Estimated completion: six minutes.
Emily swore.
Matthew’s voice came through the screen.
“Can IT stop it?”
“No,” Tom said.
“Root command.”
Emily remembered her father teaching her something stupid when she was sixteen.
The mechanical shutdown in the server room.
A red lever behind a locked panel.
He had made her promise never to touch it because it would take the entire company offline.
She had rolled her eyes.
Now she said, “I know how to stop it.”
Tom looked at her.
“No.”
“Five minutes.”
“Police are clearing the hall.”
“Five minutes.”
Matthew said, “Emily, don’t.”
She looked toward the video screen.
He stopped.
Then corrected himself.
“I am asking you not to.”
“Thank you.”
“Still asking.”
“I know.”
Emily looked at Tom.
“You don’t have to come.”
Tom stared at her.
“Do you know how insulting that is?”
“Probably.”
He sighed.
“Stay behind me.”
They moved through the side corridor.
Smoke from the earlier fire still stained one ceiling tile.
Emily’s heart pounded so hard she felt it in her throat.
At Arthur’s office, the door was open.
Ambrose was not inside.
The server room door behind the bookshelf stood ajar.
Tom raised his weapon.
Emily whispered, “He’s in there.”
They entered.
Rows of black cabinets hummed.
A laptop sat connected to the main console.
REMOTE WIPE: 03:12.
No Ambrose.
Tom looked around.
“Where did he go?”
Emily moved toward the emergency panel.
A gun clicked behind her.
Ambrose stepped out from between two server racks.
Tom turned.
Ambrose shot him in the thigh.
Tom went down with a shout.
Emily froze.
Ambrose aimed at her.
“Open the panel.”
She stared.
“You want the wipe to finish.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“I want you to stop it.”
Emily frowned.
“Why?”
“Because the server contains the only copy of something I need.”
“What?”
Ambrose’s face changed.
“Your mother’s final recording.”
Emily stopped breathing.
The countdown hit 02:41.
May you like
Ambrose raised the gun.
“Pull the lever, Emily.”
