Chapter 3 - THE GUARD WITH THE USB DRIVE
His name was Malik Barnes.
Twenty-six.
Night classes at John Jay.
Security guard at the bank because tuition did not care about sleep.
He called Priya at 11:08 p.m.
Not Ethan.
Priya.
Smart.
“I think I have something.”
She put him on speaker.
“What?”
“The lobby recording.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“I thought it was erased.”
“It was.”
Malik swallowed.
“I copied it first.”
“Why?”
Silence.
Then.
“Because this has happened before.”
Martha stopped breathing.
Malik explained.
Daniel had ordered guards to remove older clients.
Homeless-looking clients.
People who smelled “wrong.”
Customers who asked too many questions about fees.
Jessica sometimes baited them.
Loud enough for the lobby to hear.
Then Daniel stepped in.
Made a show.
Malik hated it.
But needed the job.
A month earlier, Daniel shoved an elderly veteran against the revolving door.
The man complained.
The footage vanished.
Malik started making copies.
Not every day.
Only when something felt wrong.
“Do you still have today?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“With me.”
“Do not go home.”
Malik laughed nervously.
“I’m already home.”
Priya stood.
“Leave.”
“What?”
“Take the drive and leave.”
A knock sounded through Malik’s phone.
Three hard knocks.
He stopped breathing.
“Who is it?” Priya asked.
Malik whispered.
“I don’t know.”
Another knock.
Then Daniel Thompson’s voice from the hallway.
“Malik?”
Martha went cold.
Ethan said.
“Do not open the door.”
Daniel knocked again.
“Hey, man.”
“I just need to talk about the system issue.”
Malik whispered.
“How does he know where I live?”
Priya was already calling police.
Ethan called his private security.
Malik backed away from the door.
Then the knob moved.
Once.
Twice.
Someone had a key.
Malik ran toward the fire escape.
The call filled with breathing.
Metal.
A curse.
Then silence.
“MALIK?”
Nothing.
Martha gripped the table.
The line came back.
Wind.
Sirens far away.
Malik whispered.
“I’m on the roof.”
Ethan exhaled.
“Stay there.”
Below him, Daniel stepped onto the fire escape.
May you like
And looked up.
