Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Iron’s men began pulling files from the cabinets, sliding hard drives into a duffel bag one of them had brought in. They worked methodically, opening each drawer in turn, checking the contents before removing them. One of them moved to Carl’s desk, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out the master ledger. He handed it to Iron, who fanned the pages with his thumb, then nodded and set it aside.
My pen camera had gotten it all. Every page, every column of numbers, every name. Four months of surveillance distilled down to what would fit on a micro SD card.
Iron turned in a slow circle. Again, I couldn’t see everything but I imagined he gave the room a final once over. Then, without changing his tone, he said, “They’re still here.” The other men stopped what they were doing.
“Someone was in this room tonight,” Iron continued. “They were going through these books when we arrived. They’re still in the building.” He looked at the two men. “Find them.”
I held my breath. My fingers pressed harder against my lips. One of the men spoke up. “You want us to check the whole place?”
“I want you to find them,” Iron snarled. “Start with the offices and work out.”
The men nodded and left the room, moving into the hallway. Iron remained behind, standing over Carl’s body with his arms crossed. I could see him now. He looked down at the ledger on the desk. There was no way to miss Carl’s blood smeared over the cover. He turned his gaze back to the door, then at the window on the far wall.
One of the men returned. “Garage is clear. Kitchen’s clear.”
“Keep looking,” Iron said.
The man left again. Iron pulled out his phone, sent a text, then put it away. He paced the length of the room once, then again, his boots leaving prints in the blood on the floor.
I needed to get out. I needed to move. But Iron was still in the room, and the two men were searching the building, and if I stepped out from behind this shelving unit I would be exactly as dead as Carl.
The second man came back. “Rest of the building’s clear. You want us to check the roof?”
Iron shook his head. “They’re still here.” He looked at the door. “They’re good at hiding, but they made a mistake. They left this ledger open when they heard us coming in. They didn’t have time to put it away.” He tapped his finger on the desk. “They’re still in this room.”
My heart stopped for a full second, then kicked back into double-time. This was it. In mere seconds I’d be dead. Or worse.
The men looked around, confused. “There’s nowhere to hide in here except --”
“Under the desk,” Iron said. “Check under the desk.”
The first man dropped to his knees and shined a flashlight under Carl’s massive desk. The beam swept in a wide arc, illuminating the empty knee well. I was still behind the shelving unit, pressed flat against the wall, my knees pulled tight to my chest.
“Nothing,” the man said.
Iron’s jaw tightened. “Check again.”
The man ducked his head lower, shining the light into every corner of the space under the desk. “I’m telling you, there’s nobody there.”
Iron nodded, finally satisfied. “Get the rest of the files. Then we burn the place.”
The two men returned to the filing cabinets. They worked quickly now, pulling out folders and stacks of paper, dumping them into the duffel bag. One of them returned to the hallway and came back with a plastic jug. He unscrewed the cap and began pouring a clear liquid across the floor. The sharp chemical reek cut through the air. Smelled like gasoline or something similar.
My eyes started to water. I pressed my sleeve against my nose.
Iron watched his men work, then checked his watch. “Two minutes,” he said. “Then we’re gone.”
They finished packing the duffel and stepped into the hallway. Iron paused at the door, took one last look at the office, then pulled it closed behind him.
I waited silently, not daring to move or even breathe too much in case I coughed on the fumes. I heard the front door of the building open and close. I heard the rumble of engines starting outside. Then the fire started with a hollow whomp. Smoke began to push under the office door in a gray curl.
I couldn’t stay behind the shelving unit. Smoke was already thickening along the ceiling, and the acrid smell burned my nostrils. I needed to get to the window on the far wall. Surely to God the men had all left before the building was completely engulfed.
The smoke got thicker, pushing through the office doorway in billowing gray clouds. Flames licked at the door facing, eating through the wood with hungry crackles.
I crawled, keeping low beneath the smoke. The heat pressed against my skin. My eyes stung. I ripped off my jacket and wrapped it around my right forearm, creating a makeshift pad to protect myself. The window on the far wall was my only way out. A narrow rectangle set high in the exterior wall, just wide enough for my shoulders if I turned sideways.