“Uh… who are you?” he asks suspiciously.
I don’t buy the act. It’s too dark in here for a janitor. I ignore the question and charge ahead, and the man’s dumbfounded expression shifts into one of steely purpose as he reaches into the trash can, producing a large rifle.
It’s lucky I didn’t hesitate—I get to him before he can get the gun up. He dodges my punch, swinging the rifle into the air towards me, but I drop. A shot goes off, blasting through the drywall corner and echoing in the feedback in myears. But there’s no time to react to the ringing sensation, despite the pain of the too-loud noise. I shove my shoulder into his stomach and force him against the wall. I can feel his head bounce off it as he hits.
Flicking the cover off my ring, I reach up for any bare skin and manage to grab him around the forearm. He uses the butt of his gun to hit me on the back of the head, and my balance falters at the crack of pain. I stumble backwards, nearly losing my footing, and he swings his gun back up with a triumphant smile.
The etorphine hits him suddenly and hard—the dose is for someone much larger—and he fails to aim properly. Another shot goes off, piercing a ceiling tile, as the man keels over.
Chest heaving, I cup my hands around my ears with a grimace of pain. I can hear Madison, but it’s like hearing someone’s voice while your head is underwater.
“Wesley?”she cries.“Mac? Is he—”
“I can see him, Mads. He’s fine. Didn’t get shot. Probably just hurting from that discharge. His ears’ll equalize in a minute.”
I shake my head, trying to get my bearings again. “Fuck, that smarts,” I complain, rubbing underneath my ears to see if there’s any blood. There isn’t, thank God.
“Are you okay?”Madison asks, voice full of tearful relief.
“Yes, my love. Which way do I go?”
“Follow that hall, and his office is the last on the left.”She inhales shakily.“I hated that. You handled it super well, but that was so scary.”
“Almost there,” I promise, a consolation to us both. My heart is racing, and the adrenaline is making me feel ill. “How’s Dimitri doing?”
“The Butcher is handled. I am checking the perimeter for more janitors and security guards.”
That at least makes me feel better. Being the boots on the ground and taking care of the close encounters with miscreants is really more Dimitri’s forte.
Fred’s office is locked, but my pick makes quick work of it. His desk is tidy, with a few ostentatious decorations to prove how impressive he is to anyone seated on the other side—a clock with golden hands, a glass-encased photo of him shaking the CEO’s hand, a framed Master’s Degree.
I take a seat in his chair, jiggle his mouse, and focus on our next hurdle. “I’m in. Password?”
There’s a scuffle and a sound of low, male outrage followed by a sharp slap that nearly makes me grin.“Okay, got his thumbprint and unlocked his phone… password wallet… SmarTech login… Oh, got it! It’s… are you for real, dude?”she says, accusatory, then sighs like she doesn’t want to say it.“It’s Pu$$yDe$troyer69, capital P and D, dollar signs instead of each ‘s.’”I can practically hear her shaking her head at him.
Mac’s laughter is so instantaneous, he can’t get himself muted fast enough and we all hear the first few barks.
“Such a tool,”Nicole mutters.
It works—because of course it does—and I’m greeted by a very organized desktop. I head immediately to the main finder folder to see the list of drives he has access to.
Madison, who can see what I’m doing through a camera wired to my shirt, helps me identify the right one.“Okay, the B-drive is HR, C is projects, D is operational… It’s the E drive. R&D is in there.”
I click on it and type in the search terms we decided on. But Safe-T Keeper and Gener-AI don’t return anything. Trying to make it harder to find than that, apparently.
“The files in here are named with a code, but I can’t tell what it means,” I say, shaking my head and scrolling through what feels like infinite files with randomly generated names. Letters and numbers all mixed up.
“What’s the project under?”Madison asks, voice low and meant to be intimidating, I’d wager.
“Like I’d tell you!”Fred laughs.
Another slap sounds, followed by a growl from Fred.“Is that the best you got?”I hear him seethe.“Am I supposed to be afraid? What are yougirlsgonna do next, sit on me? It’d probably hurt more than your weak ass—”
There’s another noise, and this one is much more of a thump than a slap.
“What part of being tied to a chair makes you think it’s a good idea to antagonize us right now?”Nicole barks at him.
“Nicole,”Eleanor breathes in awe.“That wassucha goodpunch.”
