Transparency

by Charles Royce

  “Here goes nothing.” He takes the oval SSD drive and aligns it with the pad.

  A perfect fit.

  The bulbs on both the pad and the key brighten and swirl in unison. A click ensues, followed by a thunderous rattling, like the start of a roller coaster. An opening to his left appears, red lasers shooting across the entrance. The light from the hallway shows him the way down.

  What the hell am I doing? he thinks. It’s just West. West won’t hurt you. West won’t hurt you.

  He shoves the oval key back in his pocket, walks through the doorway, onto the landing, then down the stairs. Indirect lighting makes the cement-block walls to his left and to his right glow dark red. A distant hum buzzes in the background.

  Something behind him rattles, closing with a thud. He turns around to make sure it’s the door, and sees a monitor and a small laptop. He runs back up a few steps to get a closer look at the laptop screen.

  It’s logging people in and out, he thinks. I knew it.

  He sees today’s entries:

  2:07pm EMPLOYEE NOT FOUND, ID#00104

  1:52pm BILLY DONOVAN, CONSULTANT ID#00109 *metal detected

  Shit. Billy Donovan.

  He changes his plan. Without making a sound except for the flash drives clanking in his pocket, he continues toward the exit, up a few more stairs, pats his pocket for the SSD. He hears a door creak open from behind him.

  “Josh?” a voice says.

  The voice is soft, unencumbered, casual.

  Is it James West, or is it Billy Donovan?

  “I can’t see much, where are you?” Josh asks.

  He hears footsteps, but no answer.

  Josh tries again. “Who am I speaking to?”

  The footsteps are getting louder. He sees a shadow coming around the corner, too tall to be West.

  “Who’s there!” Josh yells.

  Even though it’s dark, Josh recognizes the man from the other night, the same man he and Tracy saw catching an Uber in front of the building. Billy Donovan.

  “Billy Donovan?” Josh says.

  “It’s you,” Billy says. “We need to talk.”

  Josh scrambles up the stairs, hears Billy racing up behind him. Josh fumbles for the oval SSD in his pocket.

  A hand grabs his leg, pulls him down. He twists and lands on his tailbone two steps below, at the same time swinging the USB side of the SSD with all his might, scraping the side of Billy’s face. The force of the blow throws Billy off balance.

  Billy tumbles down the stairs, a gun falling out of his jacket halfway down. He lands at the bottom. His gun leapfrogs down the steps and lands beside him, then slides down the hallway, out of Josh’s view. Billy doesn’t move.

  His heart racing, Josh trembles, looks at his hands, his fist still clenched around SSD now stained with Billy’s blood. Just as he walks back up the stairs to the exit, he turns to make sense of a grunt.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Billy sits up, holds his face in his hand. Billy turns. He looks up the stairs.

  Josh locks eyes with him. He jumps up the remainder of the stairs. He holds the oval key to the pad. The wall opens.

  Josh turns to check Billy’s status.

  He’s not there.

  Shit. He’s getting the gun.

  Josh holds the key to the pad on the other side. He hopes it will stop and reverse. It does.

  Billy emerges from the hallway. He shoots three times. The gun barely makes a sound. The first two bullets hit the interior walls. The next one hits the interior ceiling just above the top stairway landing.

  The wall closes. Josh sees drywall pieces fall through red lasers like scarlet snow. The wall clicks shut.

  Josh runs through the maze of hallways, up the stairs. He bolts out the front door. He dials 9-1-1.

  C h a p t e r 3 1

  “YOU’RE WORTHLESS, BILLY.” West closes the door to the Reagan room and starts wiping Billy’s gun with a handkerchief from his suit pocket. “Shooting at Josh Harrison? What the hell were you thinking?”

  West glances at the camera to his right. The red light is on.

  “I thought he was Micah Breuer.” Billy sits next to him in a folding chair. “Same hair, same build.”

  “What makes you think Micah Breuer would have the balls to show up back here? He knows you’ve been watching him.”

  “The login. I saw a notification come through on my phone. Josh used Micah’s key to enter, see?” He shows West the login on his phone.

  2:07pm EMPLOYEE NOT FOUND, ID#00104

  “What the fuck?” West slaps Billy on the shoulder.

  “I know. I thought if we decommissioned the employee, it would decommission the key.”

  “That’s Micah’s old ID number,” West says.

  “Yep. I thought he was snooping around. Josh looks remarkably like the fucker.”

  “But you said Josh had Walter’s old key, not Micah’s.”

  “I guess I misinterpreted what Josh and Hillary were talking about. We don’t have video surveillance in Walter’s study, just audio.”

  “Billy, swear to God if you let this get any more out of control, we are done for.”

  “I made a mistake.”

  “You shot at my event planner, you idiot.”

  “So what,” Billy says. “You said take care of the problem.”

  “You know goddamn well this is not what I meant.” West hands Billy’s silencer back to him. He looks at the red blinking light, cocks his head. “I’m taking care of it. Good thing I was in the building. This could have jeopardized everything, Billy.”

  “I was just going to talk to him, put some pressure on him. Then he freaked.”

  “So you jumped to killing him instead? We need him, Billy.” West stands, pushes his chair underneath the table. “Did you unplug the camera from the laptop like I asked?”

  “Yes; snipped it too.”

  “Good.” West walks toward the door. “The police were in front of the building when I came down, so I’m sure Josh is leading them to the secret entrance. There’s a crawl space past Jefferson that leads to the parking garage. Follow me.”

  C h a p t e r 3 2

  “AND THIS, THIS right here is the entrance to the secret room.” Josh pounds on the wall. “See this seam right over here? The wall goes into it. A door appears over there, then a stairwell appears. I locked the shooter inside.”

  “Sir, hold on a second.” The policewoman shifts her torso and readjusts her bodycam. “Do you work here?”

  “Of course I work here.” He pulls out a business card from his wallet, shows it to the policewoman. “Well not here, it’s still under construction, but yes, I work for this company.”

  The policewoman looks at the business card, raises an eyebrow. “You say there’s a man trapped behind this wall; a man you say killed another man named Walter Gordon?”

  “Yes! Billy Donovan. He killed Walter Gordon.”

  “You said you scraped this Billy Donovan’s face with some sort of sharp instrument?”

  “Yes.” Josh looks at his hands. “See, here’s a little blood here on my middle finger, you need to get it, match it. It’s Billy’s.”

  “May I see the instrument please?”

  Josh swallows. He knows if he shows them the SSD drive with Billy’s blood on it, they’ll have to take it as evidence.

  “It was … something I grabbed on the stairs. It was dark, I couldn’t see what it was. I think it’s still in there.” He grabs the thermostat and pushes it upward. “Watch this.”

  The thermostat won’t budge. He tries to push it downward. Nothing happens.

  “Sir, that’s a thermostat,” the police officer says. Her partner is standing silently behind her.

  “It’s fake.” Josh continues to manipulate it. “It’s really an oval keypad that matches a key. They sync up, these little lights swirl around, and the wall opens.”

  “Well, that sounds cool,” the policewoman’s partner says. “Where’s the key?”

  “
I’m sorry?”

  “If the only way to enter this secret room is with a flashing oval key, then where is it?” asks the policewoman.

  Josh swallows again. “I must still be in the se—”

  “The secret room,” she says. “Uh-huh.”

  The officers exchange an awkward glance and a shrug.

  Josh continues to manhandle the thermostat but can’t get it open.

  The policewoman reaches for it, turns it on.

  A whirring sound echoes through the halls. A vent above them blows air onto Josh’s wavy blonde hair.

  The female police officer looks at her partner, who raises both eyebrows.

  “They changed it.” Josh studies the thermostat, pulls on it. He hits it with his palm. “They fucking changed it.”

  “Sir, if you can just calm down a second.”

  “You don’t believe me.” Josh sidesteps to where the wall opens. “Look! There! Powder. Dust. The last bullet hit just above the stairs, went into the ceiling.”

  “That’s construction for you.”

  Both officers and Josh jump at the new voice from down the hall. They turn to see James West walking toward them.

  “What’s going on here?” West asks.

  Josh steps forward. “You know exactly what’s going on here.”

  “This young man called dispatch about a possible shooting in this building.” The police officer steps forward. “That’s a very serious charge, we came to check out the disturbance.”

  “Yeah, about twenty minutes later,” Josh adds.

  “Mr. Harrison, what is meaning of all of this? Who shot at you?” West’s eyebrows form a perfect arch.

  “Billy Donovan.”

  “Billy Donovan? I don’t know that name.”

  “That’s a lie,” Josh says.

  The second offer points at the dust on the floor. “He claims Billy Donovan shot at him three times in a secret room beyond this wall.”

  West chuckles, then places his hand on the wall. “A secret room?”

  “You’re the one who told me to meet you there.” Josh pulls a note from his pocket.

  West reads it.

  Meet West below. Now. Use the key.

  Reagan.

  “May I see the note, sir?” The police officer holds out her hand.

  “This is why I came down here, Mr. Harrison, to find you. We need to go through the specifics of our upcoming event.” West turns from Josh to the police officer. “Josh Harrison is our executive creative director here at Élan International. His storage room is right down this hall. Mr. Harrison been working long hours, diligently planning and preparing our grand opening. As one might suspect, the pressure has been affecting his demeanor. He’s been erratic and panicky as of late. I’ve shared with him the need to take better care of himself.”

  “You’ve said no such thing.” Josh’s pitch is lower, more forceful than before.

  “Maybe I should have.”

  “Look, fellas, I see there’s a camera up here.” The officer points in the upper corner of the ceiling. “If you could just show us the recordings from that camera, we can all just breathe.”

  Josh smiles.

  “Oh, this?” West reaches up, takes the camera off its stand. The short wire comes out of the wall immediately. “Fake. We set it up during construction when the doors were still just plywood coverings. I can throw it away now.”

  West tosses the camera in a nearby wastebasket.

  Josh places both hands on his hips. “You are something else.”

  “Sir, what’s behind this wall?” The officer knocks on it, looks down the hallway, which leads to an intersection of another hallway. “I don’t see an access room.”

  “Honestly I have no idea,” West says. “Maybe some storage off the parking garage? I could walk with you to the other side. Or I could messenger over the blueprints.”

  “Actually I can messenger over mine,” Josh says, looks at West. “Walter had a copy. Walter Gordon, remember him?”

  “Walter’s plans? I’m afraid they’re outdated. They’ve changed many times since then.”

  “I’ll need them both,” the officer says.

  “Of course,” West replies. “I’m sure you can sort by the dates.”

  “Who’s Reagan?” Josh asks.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Reagan. From the note. There’s no one named Reagan who works for you.”

  “She’s a temporary assistant. We’ve talked about this. Kimberly left our organization a few months ago, remember, Josh?” West looks at the officer. “Mr. Harrison is tired, I’m sorry.”

  “A temp. Of course.” Josh puckers his lips.

  “Mr. Harrison, are you all right?” West turns back to him. “If there’s something going on here, I want to get to the bottom of it just as much as you.”

  Josh nods, steps out of the group, walks down the hallway.

  “Mr. Harrison!” West yells.

  Without another word, Josh turns the corner at the end of the hallway. He walks toward the South Tower elevator, his pace quickening as he goes.

  C h a p t e r 3 3

  “JOSH! SLOW DOWN, man, slow down, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Shawn reaches across his desk, pats him on the shoulder. He glances at the oval SSD in a pool of six black flash drives.

  With his head on top of folded arms, Josh breathes heavily. “I can’t do this anymore. I didn’t ask for it, I don’t want it.”

  “Hey, man, listen, I just called Detective Penance. He’s been transferred. He’s in charge of the Walter Gordon investigation now. All we have to do is tell him who you saw, what he did. There’s evidence now—on the SSD, the flash drives you got from Phish, plus both you and Tracy can ID the man. We can get this solved if we all work together, maybe put him away for a long, long time.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Of course you care. Jenna’s counting on you. You’re so close, you got this. You’re safe. You’re not in any danger anymore.”

  “Right. I just told you what they did to me. I’m not safe. Now that West has tried to kill me, I’m gonna have to ask my super to change my locks, maybe get an alarm system … or hire a bodyguard.” Josh looks up, his right arm extending the length of Shawn’s desk, his left supporting his head. “These people. This company is fucked up.”

  “I see that.”

  “You believe me, right?” Josh’s eyes are halfway closed.

  “Absolutely. I’ve seen what this company is capable of. And even though I one hundred percent believe Jenna played a part in Lenny’s death, I know she didn’t do it alone.” Shawn picks up the six black flash drives, shuffles them like cards, drops them back on the table. “These are the entire contents of the 4JFK file, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You wanna leave these with me? I can have my flock of paralegals go through this in no time.”

  “Thanks, but no.” Josh collects them, places them in his bag. “I’m keeping them.”

  “That’s quite a bit to go through.”

  “I know. I’ll get to it.”

  “With the event coming up?”

  “God!” Josh slams a fist on Shawn’s desk. “I said I’ll get to it.”

  C h a p t e r 3 4

  “SO THIS IS it,” Shawn says.

  Shawn stands curbside in front of the Garfield Building, Micah and Lennox’s high-rise. Micah has two suitcases next to him. Haylee is standing beside them, a tissue in her hand. The spring weather has finally broken through, and everyone is dressed in short-sleeved garb. Micah is dressed for travel, in Bermuda shorts and a Mayor Pete T-shirt. He sees Shawn’s sincerity, his semi-poignant expression. He pulls off his sunglasses, places them over his head, mimics Shawn’s face.

  “Yep, this is it. For now.” Micah hugs him. “Thank you, kind sir, for everything. You saved me.”

  “It’s what we do.”

  Haylee is crying. She hugs Micah, whispers in his ear. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me these past fe
w weeks.”

  “I think I’ll miss you most of all,” he whispers back. He pats her belly. “Bye, little man. See you soon.”

  Shawn looks at Haylee with curious eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “Shh, he thinks it’s a boy,” she whispers. “We’ll talk.”

  Micah flings one of the suitcases into the waiting Uber. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “It’s a good time to leave the city.” Shawn flings the second one. “Things are getting crazy again with that former employer of yours.”

  “Don’t remind me. Please give my love to Jenna. I hope she finds what she’s looking for.” Micah walks back around to the curb. “Tell her I’m sorry I didn’t come see her. I just couldn’t, well—”

  “She knows. I’m sure Josh will take good care of her.”

  “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

  “You’re coming back.” Shawn walks to his side. “You may think you want to travel the world, but home? Home is where your family is.”

  “Family?” Micah smiles.

  “Yes,” they say in unison.

  “I’m leaving it open,” Micah says. “No major decisions, right, Haylee?”

  “Right.” Haylee throws his backpack in the back seat. “Do you have everything? Passport? Toothbrush?”

  “I’m good.” Micah laughs, ducks into the car. “Really good. I’m excited. This will be good for me.”

  “Freedom,” Shawn adds. “We’ll keep an eye on the house until it clears.”

  “Furniture comes with the place, don’t forget,” Micah says. “Sorry. The broker has all the information. I can handle everything else from overseas. You have my number if you need it. I really appreciate it.”

  “We got this,” Shawn replies. “Stay sober!”

  “Please keep in touch,” Haylee says.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep tabs on you.” Micah smiles. “All three of you.”

  “We’ll FaceTime. I’ll tell him all about his Uncle Micah.”

  “Him?” Shawn asks.

  “That’s my cue.” Micah shuts the door.

  He waves goodbye as the car pulls around the corner.