Chapter 7 - THE FORTY-SECOND FLOOR
Anthony March believed control of the building meant control of Dante Marino.
He had misunderstood the building.
More specifically, he had misunderstood Emily Davies.
For six months, Emily had been submitting requests to repair the executive stairwell fire door.
Facilities had ignored every one.
As a result, the supposedly secure electronic lock could be opened by lifting the handle, kicking the lower panel twice, and swearing at it.
Emily demonstrated.
The door popped open.
Dante stared.
“You knew that?”
“I filed seven maintenance tickets.”
Vincent looked toward the ceiling cameras.
“Anthony is Facilities.”
“Yes.”
Emily smiled thinly.
“He has been ignoring me since February.”
Dante almost looked sympathetic toward Anthony.
Almost.
They descended to the forty-first floor.
Power remained off.
Emergency lighting cast pale strips across the corridors.
Dante moved first.
Emily stayed behind him as ordered.
Mostly.
Security divided into teams.
Gabriel headed toward the utility core.
Vincent toward backup communications.
Emily and Dante went toward the building’s systems-control room.
“Anthony’s leverage is Owen,” Dante said quietly.
“He won’t touch him yet.”
“How do you know?”
“He needs me functional.”
Dante glanced back.
“You sound very sure.”
“People who threaten family usually expect panic.”
“And you don’t panic?”
“I panic constantly.”
“You hide it well.”
“I schedule it.”
Despite the darkness, Dante smiled.
They reached the fortieth floor.
A man stepped from an office.
Dante raised his gun.
Emily recognized him.
“Carl?”
Carl from IT froze.
“Ms. Davies?”
“What are you doing?”
“Hiding.”
“Reasonable.”
Dante lowered the weapon.
Carl stared at him.
“Sir.”
“Can you access the backup network?”
“Maybe.”
Emily handed him her laptop.
“Do it.”
Carl sat on the carpet.
Dante looked at Emily.
“This is your plan?”
“My plans generally involve people who understand computers rather than men who solve everything with bullets.”
Dante looked mildly offended.
Carl connected through an independent cellular gateway.
The building map loaded.
Anthony was using the central control room on level thirty-six.
Emily smiled.
“Found him.”
Then Carl frowned.
“What?”
“There’s another command.”
He turned the laptop.
A fire suppression override.
Carbon-dioxide systems were activating in the archive basement.
Dante understood immediately.
“Evidence.”
Anthony was destroying physical records.
Emily noticed another command.
Freight elevator.
Ascending.
Basement to floor forty.
“Something is coming up.”
Dante pulled Emily back.
The elevator doors opened.
Michael Baresi stumbled out.
Alive.
His hands were bound.
Blood stained his shirt.
A device was strapped around his chest.
Emily stopped.
Dante whispered, “Nobody move.”
A phone taped to Michael’s shoulder rang.
Dante answered using speaker.
Anthony’s voice.
“You wanted your accountant.”
Dante stared at Michael.
Michael shook his head urgently.
“Device?”
Anthony said pleasantly, “Sensitive to movement.”
Emily looked closer.
Wires.
Digital timer.
07:00.
06:59.
06:58.
Dante’s security chief whispered, “Bomb squad can’t reach us.”
Emily looked at Michael.
“Can you speak?”
“Yes.”
“Did Anthony build it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he attach it?”
“Yes.”
“Is he technically competent?”
Michael blinked.
“What?”
“Anthony runs HVAC. Can he actually build explosives?”
“No.”
Emily looked at Dante.
“Then this is theater.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, but look.”
She pointed.
“The timer display is attached with Velcro.”
Dante stared.
“That means nothing.”
“It means whoever built this wanted easy removal.”
Michael’s eyes widened.
Emily stepped forward.
Dante caught her.
“No.”
“Dante.”
“No.”
“Seven minutes.”
“I am aware.”
Emily looked into his eyes.
“If Anthony wanted Michael dead, he could already be dead.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“He wants us frightened.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re volunteering?”
“I’m better with office equipment.”
“That is not office equipment.”
“It looks like someone emptied a RadioShack into a tactical vest.”
“There are no RadioShacks anymore.”
Emily stared.
“Is that your contribution?”
Michael suddenly laughed.
The timer continued.
05:41.
Emily knelt in front of him.
Dante stayed close enough to pull her away.
She examined the wires.
One cable led to a plastic block.
Another to a pressure sensor.
Then she noticed a manufacturing label.
Industrial HVAC airflow monitor.
She looked at Michael.
“This isn’t explosive.”
Dante frowned.
“What?”
“It’s building equipment.”
Michael stared.
Emily pulled the plastic housing free.
Inside—
nothing.
No explosive material.
Only wires and a speaker.
The timer hit 04:58.
Emily tore the device off.
An alarm began shrieking.
Nothing exploded.
Dante closed his eyes.
Michael nearly collapsed.
Emily held up the fake bomb.
“I would like everyone to note that administrative competence has once again defeated organized crime.”
Dante laughed.
Actually laughed.
Michael stared at him as if more shocked by that than his own rescue.
Dante cut Michael’s restraints.
“Anthony?”
Michael struggled for breath.
“He isn’t the one in charge.”
Dante’s humor vanished.
“Who is?”
Michael looked toward Vincent.
Vincent had just arrived from the stairwell.
Michael’s face changed.
Fear.
Vincent noticed.
“Why are you looking at me?”
Michael whispered, “Because he knows.”
“Knows what?”
“Giuseppe.”
Dante stepped closer.
“My father is alive?”
Michael nodded.
No one spoke.
Dante’s voice shook.
“Where?”
Michael looked terrified.
“Anthony has been working for him.”
Dante stared.
Emily’s mind raced.
Giuseppe had survived his stroke.
Clara knew.
Michael knew.
Anthony’s brother became involved.
But if Giuseppe was alive—
“What does he want?” Emily asked.
Michael answered.
“The fifty million.”
Gabriel arrived.
“For what?”
Michael swallowed.
“To rebuild everything Dante destroyed.”
Dante’s expression became hard.
Michael continued.
“Giuseppe believes the family became weak after Clara died.”
Vincent cursed.
“He wanted Dante colder.”
Michael nodded.
Emily felt sick.
“What are you saying?”
Michael looked directly at Dante.
“Your father did not order Clara’s bomb.”
Dante waited.
“But after it happened, he protected the person who did.”
“Why?”
“Because Clara wanted you out.”
Michael’s eyes filled with shame.
“And Giuseppe wanted you to stay.”
The truth entered slowly.
Clara died because she threatened the empire.
Giuseppe let the killer escape because her death transformed Dante into exactly what the organization required.
Cold.
Isolated.
Ruthless.
Controllable.
Emily looked at Dante.
His face was empty.
Not the old emptiness.
Something more fragile.
A son realizing the father he mourned had used his grief as a weapon.
Michael whispered, “Dante…”
Dante turned away.
The intercom came alive.
A new voice filled the building.
Older.
Rough.
Familiar enough that Dante stopped breathing.
“Hello, son.”
Giuseppe Marino.
Alive.
Dante looked toward the speaker.
Giuseppe continued.
“I see you finally learned the truth.”
Emily watched Dante’s hands.
They were trembling.
“I suggest you come downstairs.”
The elevator indicators illuminated.
36.
“Alone.”
35.
36.
Emily moved beside Dante.
Giuseppe’s voice changed.
“And leave the secretary upstairs.”
The elevator continued climbing.
33.
34.
35.
“Because she is making you weak.”
Dante stared at the doors.
Emily whispered, “Dante.”
He looked at her.
Nine years ago, his father had lost control of him only when Clara tried to lead him toward a different life.
Now Giuseppe was seeing the same threat.
Not Emily herself.
What she represented.
Humanity.
Dante reached for her hand.
Giuseppe spoke through the intercom.
“If you bring Emily Davies downstairs, she dies.”
The elevator stopped.
36.
Dante squeezed Emily’s fingers.
Then released them.
“Stay here.”
Emily looked at him.
“No.”
His eyes softened.
“This time, please.”
The word stopped her.
Please.
Dante Marino asking instead of commanding.
Emily understood what it cost him.
She nodded.
“Come back.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then leaned down.
Not kissing her.
Almost.
His forehead touched hers.
“I intend to.”
Dante entered the stairwell alone.
Emily waited until the door closed.
Then turned to Carl.
“Can you get me into the freight elevator controls?”
Carl blinked.
“I thought he told you to stay.”
“He did.”
“So…”
Emily opened her laptop.
“I’m staying in the building.”
Carl smiled nervously.
“That feels like a technicality.”
“It is.”
Twenty seconds later, Emily was descending toward the thirty-sixth floor.
And in her right hand—
because apparently fate had a sense of humor—
May you like
was the industrial staple gun she had grabbed from Facilities.
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