by Cole, Cassie
I went back to calling hotels again, but gave up when I grew tired. Finally I crawled into bed and tried to cry myself to sleep. Instead, I just stared at my wall and wished I could do something.
By morning, I had a plan.
40
Lexa
I woke up early and completed my morning jog. All 30 minutes. It filled me with the energy I needed for the day, because it was going to be a long one.
I was done crying. I was done being a passive bystander between the auditors and Blackrock Energy.
I was picking a side.
The morning was crisp as I dropped a packed bag off in the trunk of my car before walking to work. I unlocked the doors, turned on all the lights, and started the coffee makers on each floor. Once I had my own cup of tea brewed I pulled up Bryson’s calendar. He had meetings all morning, most of them up in room 300.
Gathering the box of supplies, along with my own personal tupperware container, I went up to room 300. It was the big board room outside Bryson’s locked office. I checked the ceiling: no cameras. He didn’t want people seeing what went on in there.
Once I was finished in there, I went back downstairs and opened the first meeting in Outlook, changing the room to one on the 2nd floor. Then I went to the new one and set that up properly.
The morning passed by quickly. I edited all the cover letters, two of which mentioned the Berlin drilling technique. I tapped my toe underneath the desk and prayed everything would work.
“Morning, Mr. Bryson,” I said when he came in at 8:55. I had his cup of coffee ready for him. “It’s a busy one today.”
“Uh huh,” he said, eying the coffee suspiciously but taking it anyways. “Who’s first?”
“The Halstedt Group at 9:30.” Then I added, “Oh, I switched it to room 202.”
He flinched. “Why the change?”
“Room 300 has a weird smell in it. If you want to have it in there anyways, you’re welcome to go check it out…”
He waffled for a minute, then said, “For the Halstedt Group, room 202 is fine. Just make sure to get the janitorial staff up there.”
“Already on it—they’ll be here in half an hour.”
“Good. Good.” He cleared his throat. “Listen. I’m sorry if I seemed forceful yesterday. We’re all under a lot of stress around here…”
“I understand.”
“Let me take you out to lunch to make up for it?” he said. “We can discuss that promotion some more.”
“What about your meetings?” I asked. “You don’t want to take your 11:00 out to lunch?”
He smiled warmly, like my Uncle Steve. “I can skip them just this once. Today, your future is my priority.”
“I appreciate that,” I said.
My smile disappeared as soon as he was gone. I know who you really are, I thought. You can’t walk it back now.
A new idea came to me. An addendum to my current one. I pulled up the saved cover letters on the computer and retyped them, printing new copies. Then I opened the packaged envelopes, swapped the cover letters with the new ones, and repacked them for pick-up.
I grinned to myself. This was going to work.
People came to meet with Bryson soon after. I lead them up to the conference room on the 2nd floor, making small talk about the weather and how nice downtown Bismarck was. Just as I was ushering them into the conference room, Bryson appeared.
“There they are!” he announced as he strode inside. “How’s my favorite banking firm doing on this beautiful spring morning?”
I closed the door behind him, then took a deep breath.
Here we go.
Rather than taking the elevator, I made for the stairs and went up a floor. Down two halls and past room 300, which smelled rank thanks to the leftover Sloppy Josef I’d dumped in the air vent. Bryson’s office door was ajar.
I knocked softly, just in case someone else was inside, then ducked my head in. Empty. I slipped inside and closed the door.
As much as I’d gone over the plan in my head, this part was terrifying. I had no means of escape: if anyone stumbled upon me, I was toast. I practically ran across the room to his desk and found my first problem: his keys weren’t on the desk. If they were in his pocket, this was over before it had even started.
I checked the floor around the desk, then opened his pen drawer and sighed with relief: there they were. I tried seven of the nine keys on the ring before finding the one that unlocked the drawer, and then there it was: his Dell laptop, shiny and full of potential.
Jackpot!
I froze as I heard a noise in the hall. A woman’s voice. “Whew, that does smell awful!”
I relaxed until I heard a man respond: “Lexa said janitorial is coming up to take care of it. Hope another rat didn’t die in the vents.”
Bryson.
I didn’t know why he was coming back up here, but it didn’t really matter. I could hide under the desk but he would find me instantly if he came around the side. I looked around, and even considered jumping from one of the windows—probably to my death!—when I noticed another door to the side. I closed the laptop drawer and ran to the door, which led into an executive bathroom and a claw-footed tub with a shower curtain ringing the outside. Keeping the lights off, I hopped into the tub and drew the curtain closed just as I heard the office door open.
I clenched my mouth shut and breathed out my nose while listening.
Footsteps moved across the office. He was talking to himself, mumbling about loan rates or something similar. I heard rustling of paper as he searched for something.
That’s when I realized I still had his key ring gripped in my hand. Crap! If he needed a key…
He looked around some more, opening and closing drawers. Ones which didn’t require a key, thankfully. Then he abruptly stopped.
For several long moments there was only silence, interrupted by the sound of my heartbeat in my ear.
Footsteps drew near, and then the bathroom light turned on. I clenched my eyes shut and waited for him to yank back the curtain and reveal me. I was screwed. This was a terrible idea. If he was willing to kill the others, what would he do to a nosy temp snooping around his office? There was no excuse for me to be here: as soon as he found me, he would realize why the conference room had been switched.
I trembled, but he never touched the curtain. Instead I heard the toilet bowl open with a soft click, and then the sound of pee hitting water.
It was relieving, in a disgusting sort of way.
I kept my eyes shut while he peed, humming as he went. He flushed the toilet, and then the light went out. I listened as his footsteps crossed the office and exited out the door, closing it behind him.
I stood there a long time, waiting for my heartbeat to slow, before mustering the courage to move.
Back at his desk, I removed the laptop from the drawer and opened the lid. The Windows 10 login screen greeted me, asking for a PIN instead of a password. That explained the short code.
I had it written down from what I thought I’d seen him type in: 1-4-2-8. But the screen shook gently and I was greeted with a despairing message:
The PIN is incorrect. Please try again.
Crap. Did I mix up the digits? I tried 1-4-2-9 in case I’d gotten the last one wrong.
The PIN is incorrect. Please try again.
I felt hope slipping away from me. How many tries would I get before it locked? Probably three. So I only had one more chance. I looked at the number pad and tried to remember how he’d typed his PIN. That’s when I realized my mistake: the number pad on his widescreen laptop was the opposite as what I was used to. On the desk phone it was 7-8-9 at the bottom and 1-2-3 at the top, but on a keyboard it was the opposite. I’d seen his fingers type the right keys, but had mixed up what they were in my head.
I typed in the opposite: 7-4-8-2. The moment the last digit was entered the screen unlocked, showing me his desktop.
“Yes!” I hissed to myself, as if I’d won the freaking
Superbowl.
There wasn’t much on the desktop: all the standard applications. I opened Outlook, which pulled up a different email account than I had down at the receptionist desk. Jackpot.
I skimmed the emails. Most of the recent ones were from a man named Doug Andrews, who it turned out was a private investigator. Reading through some of the older emails made my stomach drop: he’d been sending Bryson photos of the auditors coming and going from my house. That was my condo, with him taking photos of us in the second story window!
He’d been following me. Or them.
I shook off my disgust and switched to the sent folder. One of the last ones sent yesterday jumped out at me.
Doug, I need you to get them sent to drill site 181. Use the anonymous tip line their company keeps open. Then get there ahead of them and find a way to create an accident. Yeah, I know it’ll look bad, but we have no choice at this point. I’m hoping with the other evidence of them fucking the secretary we can paint them as bad actors.
Get it done.
Oh my God. Here it was: evidence of everything I was afraid of. He wasn’t just planning on injuring the guys—he was going to use me too!
That was a problem for later. I had what I needed: the location they were visiting. Drill site 181. But I couldn’t just leave the laptop behind, as I’d planned. There was too much evidence.
Crap, Lexa. Just do it.
I folded the laptop under my arm and fled the office. I tried to look inconspicuous as I trudged down the hall. A woman who was busy, and was annoyed that she had to take care of something like laptop trouble. That would be my excuse if anyone stopped me: Bryson’s laptop was acting up and he wanted me to get it fixed. It wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny, but it was better than nothing.
Some employees were lingering in the stairwell, so I hit the button for the elevator rather than have to shoulder past them. I got inside. The elevator started dropping.
And then it stopped on the 2nd floor.
Oh God. If it was Bryson getting on the elevator my heart might literally explode.
But it wasn’t Bryson. It was someone else I knew.
“Lexa!” Andrea said. “Fancy seeing you here!”
“Oh hey, you know, just making the rounds.”
She got in, checked to make sure the first floor was pressed, then crossed her arms. “Watchya got there?”
“Oh, uhh…”
“That looks like Mr. Bryson’s secret laptop!” She nudged me in the ribs. “He hates using computers, but I’ve noticed he keeps that around whenever he does need to send an email or something. He really does try his best, though he hates to look incompetent when others are watching.” She frowned. “Something wrong with it?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly, “it was acting weird. He wanted me to call IT.”
We exited the elevator. Andrea stuck to my hip like a puppy. “Do you know the number?” she asked, following me all the way to my desk.
“No, but I was going to look it up in the directory…”
“Let me help,” she said, taking over the receptionist desk she used to run. “You’re going to want to talk to Carl, or else it’ll take hours to get help.”
She dialed the number into the phone. I tried to look appreciative, even though I was daydreaming about knocking Andrea unconscious with the butt of my stapler.
“Hey, Carl?” she said into the phone. “It’s Andrea. We’ve got a problem with—”
Before she could say more, I reached out and pressed the receiver to hang up the call. Andrea gave me a weird look.
“Listen,” I said, leaning in and lowering my voice. “Mr. Bryson wanted me to take care of this discreetly. He was embarrassed about something.”
“Oh. Oh.” She nodded like she knew what I meant, even though I didn’t mean anything in particular. “Alright. If you need help, just call that number again and ask for Carl. He can be discreet if need be, but if you can’t use him, I understand.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink.
“Thanks Andrea. I appreciate you looking out for me.”
“You bet.”
The moment she was gone I put the laptop down and pulled up the Blackrock site directory, then typed in the address for drill site 181 into my phone. Then I took Kai’s flash drive from my purse, inserted it into the computer, and started copying the cover letters over. I didn’t care about appearances now. I was running out of time.
The file copy wizard appeared. 90 seconds.
I jumped as three men in polos came into the building, chatting among themselves. One of them said, “We’re here to see Milton Bryson?”
“Oh, you must be his 10:00,” I said. “Please have a seat and he’ll be right with you.”
We still had 10 minutes until Bryson’s first meeting ended and his next began, but I was freaking out at their appearance. What if he ended the meeting early? I needed to get out of here.
30 seconds left. Then 20. I cursed the computer, and my phone, and every piece of stupid technology I’d ever owned.
The moment the file copy window disappeared I yanked the drive out and made for the door, purse in one arm and the laptop under the other. One of the men looked over at me and frowned, and then called out to ask where I was going, but I ignored him.
The moment I was outside I began sprinting. The cool air felt like freedom.
I ran straight to my parked car outside my condo. It occurred to me that another private investigator might be sitting in any of the other parked cars, watching my every move. I ignored the shiver running up my spine and jumped inside my car, then drove three blocks and jumped on the interstate.
I didn’t feel safe until I was 15 miles west of Bismarck. Only then did my hands stop shaking.
I did it. I copied the files! I had Bryson’s laptop, too!
Now all I needed to do was save my four men.
The address was in Google Maps; all I had to do was press “Start Directions.” The time estimate appeared: just under three hours.
Good lord, that seemed like a long time. I wouldn’t get there until after lunch.
Logically, it seemed obvious that it wouldn’t be enough time. Cas mentioned visiting the site to catch one of the shift starts, which was probably 8:00 or 9:00. They were already there. They will have been there for hours by the time I arrived.
I doubted I could get there in time, but it didn’t matter because I was on the road. I was doing something. I was an active participant in the events that were unfolding.
As long as I wasn’t useless, I didn’t care.
41
Kai
I barely slept, which was rare for me. Normally I was like an unconscious person, oblivious even to my own deafening snoring.
The anticipation of this day was too much. I could not relax.
We ate breakfast in the hotel lobby. Continental breakfast, which meant cold muffins and cereal. Not a proper meal. But I ate slowly and methodically, for fuel rather than pleasure.
Today was going to be an important day.
“Still got time to burn,” Tex said around a mouthful of corn flakes. “Right, boss?”
“A little bit,” Cas said, “but I want to get there early. Scope the place out before the shift change.”
“Right, right.”
I watched my friends and coworkers. They were as nervous as I was, but for different reasons. This site visit would be the end of this entire job. Then I would never need to visit another drill site again.
God willing.
The hotel manager, a skinny kid hardly older than 20, approached our table nervously. “Excuse me, Mr. Floyd?”
“Yes?”
“There was a call for you last night. Asking if you were staying here.”
All four of us tensed. Cas asked, “What did you tell them?”
“That we do not give out customer information.”
Cas relaxed.
“I know you said you didn’t want any calls or visitors,” the manager continued, “but I wasn’t sur
e if I should have forwarded them, so I wanted to inform you first thing this morning…”
“You did the right thing,” Cas said. “Did they leave a message?”
“No sir.”
“Huh. Alright, thanks.”
We waited until he left before looking around the table at one another.
“Wonder what that’s all about?” Tex said.
“Suspicious as fuck, you ask me,” Jason added.
“Indeed,” I said. “Perhaps we should check in with corporate?”
Cas shook his head, as I expected him to do. “It’s tempting, but no. They would have left a message if it was from them. Might even be Andy testing us. Making sure we follow procedure. We can’t risk turning our phones on, even to check. Nothing with GPS.”
“I agree,” Tex said. We all nodded.
We killed another 20 minutes drinking cheap coffee before piling into the rental car we’d swapped out last night. Cas was paranoid about them tracking our jeep, and I was inclined to agree with him. We could not be too careful. Not when we were this close.
“34 minutes to the site,” Tex said from the front seat. “Exit 255, then service roads from there.”
The tip we had received involved a serious safety violation: a drill site skipping the insulation on their drill equipment. This was important because drill equipment became extremely hot during utilization, which could ignite any gasses released by the drilling. Not only that, but the insulation had to be replaced every four days due to wear and tear from the vibrations of the drill. Such a requirement may seem like a small thing to an outsider, but it was one of the most important safety measures at a drilling site.
And it was one of the most skipped ones.
Our timing was critical. We could not simply drive up to the site and point out the infraction: we needed to hit the site shortly after the beginning of a new shift. This was because shift managers ran safety inspections before every new shift. After a final walk-through they certified that the next shift could begin. Catching the drill site immediately after he ran his checklist was crucial because it showed malice aforethought; they couldn’t claim that the insulation had magically fallen off during the shift.