Chapter 7 - Ascending the Glass Tower
The freight elevator was a slow, rattling box of perforated steel and grease-stained cables that smelled faintly of old oil and dust. As we rose past the lower parking levels, the digital indicator panel flickered through floor numbers that represented years of corporate climb and hollow ambition. Every jerk of the cable seemed to mirror the tight knot in my stomach. I gripped the handrail, my thoughts locked on Julian. Wherever they were holding him in the tower, I knew he wouldn't stop fighting until every fraudulent signature was exposed.
"We get out on the forty-second floor," Marcus whispered, his hand hovering over the emergency stop button in case the lift bypassed our targeted level. "The boardroom is on the forty-fifth, directly beneath the executive penthouse. Vance and his allies usually congregate in the private lounge before calling the formal vote."
The elevator ground to a halt with a metallic groan, and the heavy metal gate slid open with a screech of rusted rollers. We stepped out into a dimly lit concrete corridor used for service carts and maintenance supplies. The atmosphere here was starkly different from the pristine marble lobbies downstairs; exposed pipes ran along the ceiling, and the walls were painted industrial gray. We moved swiftly toward the interior stairwell, our rubber-soled shoes making no sound against the concrete steps as we climbed the final three flights toward the executive level.
When Marcus gently cracked open the heavy oak door leading into the forty-fifth floor, the muffled sound of voices drifted down the hallway. I peeked through the narrow gap, my breath catching in my throat. Two private security guards in dark suits stood outside the main double doors of the boardroom, their arms crossed, looking bored and completely unaware of our presence. They were hired muscle, men who didn't know the corporate rules, only the man who paid their invoices.
May you like
"We can't brute-force past them," I whispered against Marcus's shoulder.
"We don't have to," Marcus murmured back, slipping a small, flat electronic device from his pocket. "Watch the corner." He tossed a small plastic marker down the opposite hallway; it clattered loudly against the drywall, drawing both guards instantly away from the boardroom doors to investigate the sudden noise.
