Your career in this firm ends the moment Arthur Davenport dies, Clara, my senior co-manager Marcus whispered, dropping a 200-page termination clause onto my desk.
I arrived back at the Davenport Capital building at 11:15 PM. The rain had intensified, turning the streets into shimmering black rivers.
The glass lobby was nearly dark, save for the security desk night lights that cast long, eerie shadows. Tom, the night guard, who had known me for three years during my time caring for Arthur, looked up as I approached the turnstiles. His face was etched with sympathy and concern.
“Clara, your badge is deactivated,” he said sympathetically, his voice low. “I can’t let you up. Building policy.”
“Marcus Halloway is destroying evidence of illegal embezzlement in Arthur’s office right now, Tom,” I said clearly, my voice unwavering as I met his gaze. I kept my tone calm, but the urgency was undeniable. “If you block me, you’ll be named as an accessory in a federal wire fraud indictment tomorrow morning.”
Tom hesitated, his eyes darting to the security monitor. It showed the 30th floor, where a single, defiant light was burning inside Arthur’s corner office suite. He knew Marcus was still there, an unusual late-night presence. His duty warred with his conscience.
After a long moment, he pressed the desk release button. The turnstile clicked, turning green.
“Take the service elevator,” Tom said quietly, his voice a strained whisper. “Cameras are undergoing maintenance on that bank tonight. Been out since nine.”
I didn’t waste another second. I stepped into the old service elevator, the metal cage rattling as it ascended, holding Arthur’s black leather portfolio tightly against my chest. The silence of the ascent was broken only by the distant rumbling of thunder.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours