“What’s up?” a man, presumably Thompson, says a moment later, walking toward us from a back room.
“What’s up is that Ms. Hale received another threatening letter! Your department is supposed to take care of this. So, tell me why this letter ended up on her desk!”
She brandishes the letter, and Thompson looks at it, eyes wide.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
“Fuck is right. Someone’s head will roll when Mr. Langford finds out about this.”
The blood drains from Thompson’s face.
Emily starts to yell again, but her voice fades, and she sways on her feet. A second later, the letter slips from her hand, and she collapses. Thompson barely manages to catch her before she hits the floor.
“Emily!” I shout. I lean down toward her, but then the room starts to spin. My knees buckle, and I crumple to the ground. I feel a burst of pain as my head slams into the tiled floor.
Everything goes black.
29
ASHER
“Fourth door on your left,” Sterling says in my earpiece.
Declan and I didn’t want to alert anyone to our presence, so we entered Greenspan through a back door on the ground level. Sterling has the schematics of the building, and he’s watching the cameras, tracking the asshole we’re after. He’s been able to lead us through the building without anyone seeing us. It’s a new thing for me to creep through one of my companies like a criminal, but I’m not here for a walk-through inspection. Declan and I are here for answers, and we’re not leaving until we have them
“Code is four two three six nine.”
I punch in the code and open the door, revealing a dimly lit metal stairwell.
“Wait,” Sterling says. “Cameras down in three, two, and . . . go.”
Declan and I enter the stairwell and climb as silently as possible up three flights.
“On your left. This door requires a badge. Hang on while I override it.”
A minute later, the light on the pad next to the doorchanges from red to green, and we enter a filing room lined floor to ceiling with shelves of locked cabinets.
“The door to the research room he works in is on the other side of the room. He’s in there alone, so move quickly.”
The badge entry system panel again lights up green right as Declan and I reach it. I open the door and walk into a lab with metal tables, computers, and research equipment spread throughout. One man, Andrei Gusev, stands at a table, typing away on his computer.
“Hello, Andrei,” I say in a bright voice.
He startles and looks at me, his mouth agape.
“Mr. Langford . . .” he nods to Declan, “Mr. Langford.” His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “This is unexpected. H-how can I help you?”
“We have some questions, and we heard you were just the man to answer them. Let’s go.”
Declan grabs him by his bicep and leads him back through the filing room, down the stairwell, and into a small, very private, very soundproof room typically used for risky types of experiments. As soon as we’re in the room, the lockclicks, seemingly of its own accord, locking us inside with no way out. Thank you, Sterling.
“Wh-what can I help you with?” Andrei stutters.
“We know,” I say, cutting straight to the point. “We know TDC Oil is sabotaging Greenspan, and we know you’re helping them.”
He winces, and then his face fights to morph itself into an anything-but-believable look of surprise. “That’s preposterous. Wh-what makes you say that?”
“Cut the bullshit,” Declan growls. “We know what TDC’s done; you know what they’ve done. What we want to know is what TDC’s next plan is or any other useful information you can give us. How useful you are will determine what state you are in when you leave this room.”
