Chapter 10 - The Service Descent
The office erupted into motion as the second operative drew a heavy-duty tactical baton, stepping around the wreckage of the desk to close the distance on Julian. I didn't hesitate; I grabbed the heavy leather-bound ledger from the floor and swung it with all my weight against the back of the operative's knee. The man grunted, his leg buckling awkwardly as he dropped to the marble floor. Julian didn't wait for him to recover, delivering a sharp blow that sent the guard slumping sideways against the bookcase.
Marcus backed toward the doorway, his composure completely shattered, his face pale under the harsh fluorescent lights of the corridor. "You're insane," Marcus spat, his hands trembling slightly as he reached into his jacket for his phone. "You'll never leave this building alive. Security is already locking down the lower levels."
"Run," Julian said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me past the groaning guards toward the private office's emergency exit.
We didn't head back toward the main reception area or the elevators. Instead, Julian shoved open a concealed wall panel hidden behind a row of heavy reference books, revealing a narrow vertical service shaft containing a counterweight ladder and a freight hoist. It was meant for maintenance staff and discreet deliveries—an old architectural relic from when the tower was built decades ago. We scrambled through the opening just as the sound of running boots flooded the outer executive suite.
The descent down the service shaft was dark, frantic, and punishing on our lungs. We climbed down three levels before finding a utility door that opened directly into the underground loading bay. The air down here smelled of diesel exhaust, hot asphalt, and industrial cleaning agents. A lone delivery van sat idling near the bay exit, its rear doors unlocked while the driver was presumably inside signing bills of lading in the security office.
Julian pulled me behind a stack of wooden pallets as a roving patrol of building guards swept across the far side of the concrete expanse, their flashlights cutting erratic beams through the gray shadows. My heart hammered against my ribs, the adrenaline roaring in my ears, but my fingers remained firmly closed around the handle of the silver letter opener tucked safely inside my apron pocket.
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"When they reach the van, we move," Julian whispered, his face streaked with dust and sweat, his hand brushing mine in the dark.
The patrol moved past the delivery vehicle and turned down the adjacent maintenance corridor. The heavy loading bay doors loomed just twenty feet away, framing a strip of pale afternoon sunlight over the county highway outside. We didn't look back. We slipped out from behind the pallets, climbed into the cab of the unregistered truck, and pulled out onto the open road, leaving the corporate tower and its surveillance network far behind us in the dust.
