Lying in Shadows

by Sofia Grey

  “It looks like one of Ted’s.” Hope flashed in Jordan’s eyes. “Maybe Louisa is here somewhere.”

  They arrived back on the twentieth floor and carried Marcus out of the elevator. Jordan’s P.A. was there, taking off her coat. She stared at Marcus, her hand over her mouth, horror written all over her face. Jordan sent her for a first-aid kit and told her to clear everyone else from the floor.

  Alex thought Marcus needed an ambulance, but Jordan explained Tanner was a medic. It was vital to see if Marcus had any information, before he was whisked away to hospital.

  They settled him on a sofa in the outer office and bathed his face with cold water, trickling some between his split lips. Jordan squeezed Marcus’s hand and spoke to him, trying to wake him.

  Alex didn’t know who first noticed the envelope taped to Marcus’s T-shirt, but Jordan grabbed it, tore it open, and pulled out a typed note.

  To Marcus Reeve.

  Four years ago, you told everyone I had a choice—to sell TM-Tech secrets illegally or to stay honest. It was too late then; my fate was sealed. It was too late for my pregnant wife and child. The press hounded them and forced her car off the road. I lost everything that meant anything to me, and it’s all thanks to you.

  I can be generous, though. I can give you a choice in return. Your wife and son, or your mistress. It should be easy, but you have to find them first. Either way, TM-Tech will be ruined.

  Time is of the essence.

  At 08:30 a.m. on Wednesday, November 26, two things will happen.

  1 – The controlling server will activate and release my Worm virus. It will spread through your customer and supplier base and bring down their networks globally. Think of it as an early Thanksgiving present from TM-Tech

  2 – The explosives in your newly refurbished datacentre will go off

  You can call or text me for one clue. Either the passkey to prevent the server from releasing the virus, or the location of your wife and son OR mistress. Your choice.

  Search high and low; they are well hidden.

  See you in hell.

  Darius Gibson

  Beneath the typescript were two photographs showing a server rack, strung with small, neat, black blocks, and several people tied up and gagged. It appeared to be a small, contained room.

  “Plastic explosives.” Tanner spoke into the silence.

  “Looks like the new backup store,” said Aiden. “Time now?”

  “Eight-oh-five.” Alex didn’t see who replied; he was too busy staring at the clock on the office wall. Was this for real? In less than half an hour, a bomb would go off?

  “Marcus can’t make that decision, so I’m doing it for him,” said Jordan. “I don’t give a fuck about the passkey. Find Louisa and Ted.” Rico picked up his phone, swiped the screen, and dialled a number.

  “He doesn’t mention Sylvie.” Alex forced the words out. He stared at Rico, appalled. The pain he felt was mirrored on Rico’s face.

  Rico spoke clearly into the phone. “Tell us where to find Louisa and the boy.” He listened. Disconnected the call. “Louisa is in the switch cupboard on the roof.” He looked at Tanner. “You go.”

  Alex dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out the plastic brick. “That’s why I found this by the service lift.”

  Tanner nodded and disappeared. That was one relief in the ongoing nightmare—Louisa and Ted could be saved.

  Jordan stood, a fresh look of horror on his face. “The staff will be on their way in. We need to evacuate the building.” He ran to the nearest fire alarm, smashed the glass, and a howling siren started immediately.

  Aiden was on the phone to the emergency services. He was calm and precise, as he announced they had a bomb warning and were evacuating. He asked for them to arrange the evacuation of neighbouring buildings as a precaution.

  Rico assumed control. He looked at them each in turn. “We search the rest of the building. Synchronize your watches. You need to get outside no later than eight twenty-seven, no matter what you find or don’t find. If we all get blown to shit, we’re not much use. Time now is eight-twelve. Alex, I need you to get Marcus out of here. We have twenty floors in fifteen minutes. Suggestions?”

  Jack spoke first. “I’ll take the datacentre on the second floor. Gibson must be guarding the explosives, to prevent us from disabling them. He has hostages.”

  “Take this.” Rico passed him a handgun. “You may need it.”

  Alex wanted to plead with Rico, to beg him to find Sylvie, but it was unnecessary.

  “They can’t be in plain view,” said Jordan. “The staff or cleaners would have seen them. Maybe the store rooms.”

  “High or low,” said Rico, knitting his brows together. “Louisa is on the roof. Could Marianne be in the basement?”

  “Or the underground car park,” said Aiden.

  They disappeared, leaving Alex with Marcus. Adrenaline pulsed through his tired body as he hauled the sagging Marcus to his feet. The guy was Alex’s one-time rival for Maz. That didn’t matter anymore. Fuck. He was heavy and unable to walk, even with the P.A.’s help. They needed a wheelchair.

  Alex improvised with the sturdy wheeled office chair from behind Marcus’s desk. He hoped the elevator wasn’t disabled by the fire alarm. They were twenty floors up; there was no way they could coax Marcus down the stairs in time.

  Sending a swift prayer of thanks when the elevator arrived, Alex and the P.A. shoved the chair inside and he pressed the button for the lobby. They made it with five minutes to spare and found the reception area in organised chaos. People were evacuating in a leisurely fashion, not realising it wasn’t a drill. There were some shocked cries when they recognised Marcus, and a flurry of helpers came to help Alex carry him outside.

  Alex checked his watch. Eight twenty-one. He grabbed the first Fire Marshall he saw, and yelled at him to get everyone out quickly. It wasn’t a drill. There was a bomb warning. The guy snapped into his walkie-talkie, and they started bustling like worker bees. Alex staggered outside, breathing heavily, and sat on a low brick wall at the front of the building. A new horror dawned on him, as he gazed up at the building. It was a stunning glass-fronted tower block. Holy fuck.

  Scrambling back to his feet, he grabbed the Fire Marshall again. “They need to move away. This glass will explode outwards.” It wasn’t enough to simply tell him. Alex ran back into the lobby and yelled at the top of his voice. “Everyone out. Get to a safe distance.” He darted back outside and caught a glimpse of Louisa and Ted with Tanner, in the crowd now pouring away from the building.

  “Lou.” He gave her a fierce hug. “Where’s Sylvie? Was she with you?”

  “Alex.” Tears poured down her face. “I don’t know. He separated us. I couldn’t help her. Do you have any news about Marcus?”

  Alex glanced over his shoulder and saw Marcus being carried by half a dozen people. “He’s over there, but we need to get out of the way of the building. There’s a bomb going off any minute.” And still no sign of Sylvie, let alone Jordan, Rico, and the others.

  * * * *

  Marianne kept shouting to Sylvie, urging her to stay awake. Telling her help would come. The working day would start soon. People would be in the building. They’d be found.

  By trying to keep Sylvie’s hopes up, Marianne didn’t have time to let her own fears in. Her worry for Marcus was constant. What would they do to him? Would he survive? She loved him. Was in love with him, and might never get the chance to tell him.

  She sat on the floor of the cupboard her head bowed. The muffled boom came from somewhere above, and she froze. What the fuck? It sounded like an express train speeding her way, the roar getting louder and louder. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. She tried to curl into a ball, to cover her head.

  The pressure on her eardrums was immense, and when the world started shaking, she screamed into the noise, before blackness claimed her.

  She blinked. It was pitch black, and she couldn’t hear anything. Nothing at all. Was
she deaf? Blind? Panic seized her, and she thumped the door, the wall—anything to make a sound. Was she dead? Her hands hurt, so maybe she was still alive. Sounds trickled in. It felt as though she had water in her ears, and she shook her head.

  In the distance, she heard an alarm wailing. A ticking, crunching noise, and a creaking.

  She was still alive. Whatever happened, she was still breathing, and while she was alive, she could shout for help.

  * * * *

  Sylvie had to be dreaming. It was her nightmare all over again. The noise. The dust. The darkness. But this time she hurt too much to be asleep. Her worst nightmare was brought to life.

  She coughed, her mouth full of powder. She felt it coating the back of her throat. Her eyes were scratchy with dust. What the fuck happened? She tried to move and discovered she was still wrapped in the blanket, or what was left of it. Some unseen force had picked her up and thrown her across the floor, like a giant tossing toys around a playroom. She was no longer chained up. Her hands were free. She had some movement.

  Was she still in the datacentre?

  A faint glow lit the distance, hazy through clouds of dust so thick she could touch them. Over the ringing in her ears, she realised someone screamed her name. Not Rico. It was Marianne.

  Dear God. She dreamed of this and of Rico being hurt. She prayed he was okay. If he was in the building, he might be lying injured too. She coughed again, spat out dust, and tried to call back to Marianne. She could only manage a hoarse whisper.

  She could move, though. She tried to haul herself upright and out of the sea of dust, only to scream in pain. Her left leg gave way, and she crumpled to the floor.

  * * * *

  A minute early—before any of the others appeared—all hell broke loose.

  Alex stood on the other side of the road. The windows exploded outwards, as he predicted. Lethal shards of glass shattered in all directions. People screamed and ran. The noise was unlike anything he’d ever heard or wanted to again. His ears rang so loudly, he feared his hearing would be permanently damaged. If he stood next to a jumbo jet on takeoff, it couldn’t be any louder.

  And the dust... It was everywhere. It reminded him of watching TV footage of the Twin Towers collapsing in New York. Somewhere in there was Sylvie. She had nightmares of being trapped in dust and smoke, and they came true.

  Alex buried his head in his hands. Sylvie asked to go to London with him, but he said no. If he’d taken her with him, she’d be alive and safe now. How could he live with himself after this?

  He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Jordan with Aiden and Jack. Jordan’s face and hair were white with dust. “Louisa?” His voice was hoarse.

  “She got out. She’s over there somewhere, with Marcus and Ted. Tanner’s there too.” Alex gazed at him, hope surging. If Jordan got out, maybe the others would. “What about Sylvie? Rico? Maz?”

  Jordan shook his head, already searching the crowd with his gaze for Louisa.

  “Go to her. You can tell Kate you’re both safe,” said Alex, his throat tight with fear. He wasn’t moving anytime soon. From here, he’d see if anyone else emerged.

  * * * *

  Marianne heard a new noise over the tinny jangling in her ears. A voice shouting her name. She screamed back, not caring that her throat felt raw. “Here. I’m over here.”

  The door was yanked open, but it jammed on something. She lunged at the gap. It wasn’t big enough to get through. She could weep.

  “Wait,” someone shouted. She couldn’t decipher who. Seconds later, the door opened a little further, and she saw Rico, his face and hair crazily covered in dust and blood smeared down his cheek.

  Thank you God and all the saints. She was being rescued. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped them away. “I’m so glad to see you. Can you get me out?” Her voice was reduced to a croak.

  He pulled at the edges of the cupboard, and the gap widened, but it was still too narrow. “Give me a minute. I need to find something to pry it open with. Are you injured?”

  “No.” She swallowed. “Sylvie’s down here too. Have you found her? I think she was hurt. Before this.”

  He stopped. “Where is she? If I open this, can you get out by yourself?”

  With the door open, clouds of gritty dust swirled inside. It was like looking into a sandstorm. What the fuck happened?

  Rico grabbed her hand through the gap. “Where’s Sylvie? How bad is she hurt?”

  “She was over there somewhere. We were shouting to each other, but then she went quiet.” Marianne squeezed his fingers. “Go and get her first. I’m not hurt. I can wait, but please come back for me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Go. Hurry.” Marianne retreated into her cupboard. The dust wasn’t so thick in here, and she could breathe more easily. While she waited, she ripped away the bottom of her shirt, to make a facemask. Please, Rico, hurry up. Not only for Sylvie, but for me too.

  * * * *

  Sylvie heard Rico shouting her name. Was this her nightmare again, or was he really here? She coughed and tried to shout back, but it came out as a croak, so she hammered her fists on the floor. Anything to get his attention. She could be swimming in a sea of dust. Every movement made it swirl in her face, stealing her breath and filling her mouth.

  “Silverwood.” He was here. He was really here. His face broke into a smile. He looked a mess, but she’d never loved him more.

  She tried to smile back, but it was punctuated by another violent fit of coughing. He was moving things, freeing her. She was safe.

  “I knew you’d come for me.” A whisper was all she managed.

  “Always.” He helped her sit upright and wiped her face with his hand. “Can you walk?”

  “No. I hurt my leg.”

  He scooped her up. “Press your face against me. I’ll shield you from the dust.”

  She slipped her arms around his neck. He was safe, and she was rescued. Tears leaked from her eyes, but she didn’t care. She burrowed into his embrace. “Marianne’s here somewhere. Did you find her?”

  “She’s fine. Let’s get you out.”

  * * * *

  Alex stared at the collapsed entrance to the TM-Tech building. Emergency services swarmed all around, and the police were erecting a cordon. A bit late, he thought. They tried to move him back, but he refused. And there, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, was Rico. With Sylvie in his arms.

  Alex couldn’t speak. Tears poured down his face, and he climbed to his feet and stumbled towards them.

  Sylvie was alive. Bleeding and filthy, coughing and crying, but gloriously, amazingly alive.

  He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go, but she had Rico, and Alex had to remember to keep his distance.

  Someone mentioned Marianne. Rico nodded. “I have to go back for her. She’s in the basement, in the data-storage cabinet. I need help.” He looked at Jack and Tanner. They nodded, and Alex stepped forwards. “Let me come.” Sylvie was safe, and Alex needed to do something.

  Creaking noises came from the remains of the foyer, as though the once-mighty tower block shifted on its foundations. Rico glanced back at it, and then turned to face Alex. His expression was intense and focused. It was the oddest look, and it sent chills through Alex. It must have been the dust or a trick of the light, but his eyes looked as though they glowed. Then Rico blinked and they cleared.

  Rico gazed at Sylvie and brushed the gentlest of kisses on her ragged lips. “I will always love you.” It was whispered, but Alex heard it.

  She managed a smile amidst more coughing, and then widened her eyes as Rico carefully placed her in Alex’s arms.

  “Alex,” he said, “I need you to look after her for me.”

  She must have realised Rico was going back in, because she began to struggle. Despite her injuries, she kicked and wriggled, but Alex held her fast. She screamed Rico’s name, as he ran back in, flanked by Jack and Tanner.

  Another rumble made the gr
ound shudder. The walls crumbled in on themselves. Sylvie was incoherent, and all Alex could do was hold her, his heart shredding more with every torturous second that passed. He’d rather be inside, trying to reach Maz, than witnessing Sylvie’s nightmare come true.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The metal cupboard that saved Marianne from the blast threatened to soon become her coffin. The time she waited here, huddled in the corner, was the longest period of her entire life. Were she claustrophobic, she’d have gone insane.

  The last few minutes felt more like hours, her emotions seesawing from hope to despair. The all-encompassing fear of being trapped in the cupboard, of dying there amongst the rubble, consumed her until she struggled to breathe. She began to believe she’d imagined Rico being here.

  Hearing noises and voices shouting her name was miraculous. Rico came back for her. She knew he would, but seeing him here with a rescue party was pretty damn incredible. Hope never tasted so sweet.

  “Stay still, ma’am,” shouted one of the strangers, his voice penetrating the constant ringing in her ears. “Just going to widen this gap.”

  Another age passed, and then with a shrieking noise, the cupboard door opened more.

  “Out you come.” The man leaned into her space, his arm outstretched. “Time to leave.”

  She took his hand and followed, ducking under the twisted metal and stepping into hell. The datacentre was no longer. This looked more like pictures of the aftermath of a tornado. Concrete was strewn across the floor, and the grey dust was ankle deep. It obscured the fact the floor was suddenly—scarily—uneven beneath her feet. The only light came from a dangling fluorescent tube, twisting on a short length of cable. The world creaked and cracked around her, and she froze.

  Come on, she shouted at herself. Move.

  She took a tentative step, feeling for the ground. She placed her leading foot flat down, then moved forwards.

  It reminded her of walking on thin ice.

  Someone shouted to her left, and she swung around. Something—a person—collided with her and slammed her to the floor, and she screamed. Dust flew into her face, and she gasped for breath behind her fabric mask. Her right leg twisted as she fell, and now pain seared from her ankle to her knee.