Chapter 13: Interrogation In The Boardroom
The doors of the foundation tower opened to the midnight air with a quiet, pneumatic hiss. The lobby was stripped of its daytime warmth, reduced to sharp planes of polished white marble and brushed steel under emergency lighting. Two men in dark suits flanked me on either side, their grips firm but restrained, avoiding any public spectacle as they steered me toward the private elevator banks. Julian walked just behind us, his jaw set, his dark suit slightly rumpled from the gravel lot where the transit had been intercepted. He didn't look at the guards. His eyes stayed fixed on the back of my neck, a steady, physical anchor keeping me from slipping into panic.
The private elevator climbed in absolute silence, the digital floor numbers flashing amber against the dark wood paneling until the display settled on fifty-two.
When the doors slid open, we stepped directly into the top-floor glass boardroom. The room was vast, dominated by a single conference table made of dark, charcoal-grained stone that reflected the sprawling, neon-grid pattern of the city far below. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the perimeter, framing the silent expanse of skyscrapers piercing the cloud cover.
Director Vance stood near the center of the glass expanse, his back to us, hands clasped behind the tailored wool of his suit jacket. He didn't turn around immediately as the guards ushered us across the sound-dampening wool carpet. He waited until the elevator doors chimed shut behind us before he spoke.
"You've caused an extraordinary amount of administrative friction," Vance said, his voice measured, devoid of anger or theatrical malice. It was the tone of a man reviewing quarterly losses on a balance sheet. He finally turned, his face lined with fatigue but his eyes sharp, calculating every micro-expression on my face. "Do you have any idea how many compliance protocols had to be bypassed tonight just to bring you back here quietly?"
"You didn't bring us back for administrative friction," I said, my voice holding steady despite the dry tightness in my throat. I kept my chin up, refusing to shrink under the weight of the empty, echoing room. "The files are already out of your hands."
Vance offered a thin, mirthless smile. He walked slowly toward the head of the stone table, resting his fingertips against its cold surface. "The flash drive handed to a tired reporter on a freight platform? Let's assume for a moment that he actually manages to reach a desk before morning. Do you honestly believe a legacy media outlet is going to publish unverified documents stolen by a disgraced junior analyst who was already flagged for internal compliance review?"
He paused, letting the weight of the manufactured narrative settle over the room.
"We built this foundation's reputation over fifteen years," Vance continued, shifting his gaze slightly to encompass Julian, who stood half a step to my right. "And you, Mr. Vance—or whatever name you're using this week—should know better than most that institutional survival always supersedes individual ethics. If those files leak, your name goes down in the initial press cycle right beside hers as an accessory to corporate espionage. The board will bury you both so deep in litigation that you won't see daylight before your retirement age."
Julian didn't flinch. He stepped closer to the edge of the stone table, his shoulders squaring as he met the director's gaze head-on. "We aren't interested in your litigation, Director. And we aren't negotiating terms."
"You're in no position to negotiate," Vance snapped, the smooth corporate veneer cracking just enough to reveal the tension underneath. "You're trespassing in a restricted building, facing federal wire fraud charges that my legal team drafted twenty minutes ago."
May you like
Before Julian could answer, a sharp, high-pitched chime cut through the silence of the boardroom.
Vance frowned, his hand instinctively dropping toward the mahogany side table where his personal smartphone lay face down. The chime repeated—once, twice, then a rapid, overlapping cascade of notifications that vibrated against the polished wood. Vance picked up the device, his eyes darting across the screen. The color in his face shifted, the calculated composure instantly giving way to a sudden, rigid stillness.
