Logging off from Hauser’s computer, Samuel pushed himself to his feet and exited the room, glancing back momentarily at the window as he left. He wondered when he would next be back in the building, whether people would ask questions about the man’s passing or whether they would simply draw a line under it and try to forget that this whole fiasco ever happened.
For now at least, Samuel felt better about it and decided the best thing for him was to get out of the building and head back home – as his mother would say – to wait for everything to blow over. He wondered about going to see his parents on Long Island, they were both close to their seventies now and while they claimed independence, he felt a lot more responsible for them than they claimed to be for him these days.
With thoughts of his parents’ wellbeing on his mind, Samuel wasn’t concentrating properly as he pulled open the door from the finance department to the stairwell and stepped out. Almost immediately there was a rough fist grabbing his shirt and an angry voice in his ear. The fact that disgruntled civilians still roamed the Trident building had completely slipped Samuel’s mind until it was much too late.
“What’re you doing in there? Who are ya?”
“What the – get off me!” Samuel quickly snapped back to his right mind, focusing on the man who had grabbed him and thrown his body back against the door as it swung shut behind him. He opened his mouth to continue arguing before he saw the crowbar in the man’s other hand and the menacing, fearless look in the man’s eyes.
“Woah, pal. Back off. I work here.”
Before he’d even finished his sentence, Samuel regretted what he was saying. Admitting he was an employee of Trident had to be one of the worst things he could do. It gave this guy – and everyone else – a focal point for their anger, a focal point that he didn’t want to be.
“Oh, you work here,” the man shoved Samuel back a bit further, despite his back already being up against the closed door. “Care to tell us what’s going on then? Where is my money? What’ve you done with it?”
“I haven’t – I don’t know,” Samuel tried to explain. “I’m not in –”
“Hey Matt, what’s going on up there?”
“I’ve got one of them!” The man who held Samuel by the front of his shirt called down the stairs to the echoing voice. “Come up and help me.”
Now Samuel really knew he was in trouble. The man in front of him – Matt – was already a much bulkier looking man than he was, and he could tell by the hold he had on his shirt that there were strong muscles underneath his hoodie. He looked nothing like the sort of company that Samuel chose to keep in his personal life and desperately didn’t want to keep now. As Matt’s friend, a man with a shaven head and tattoos reaching up onto his neck from underneath his t-shirt jogged up the stairs to join them, that thought became even more confirmed in Samuel’s mind.
“He came out of here,” Matt explained to his friend, his grip on Samuel loosening slightly as he turned to talk, but not enough that he could wriggle free. “He works for Trident.”
“You’re one of them?” The tattooed man growled, looking even more threatening than Matt did. “What’ve you done with our money?”
“I haven’t done anything,” Samuel argued back, trying to keep his voice level and calm. His parents had taught him that his words were the best tool he could ever bring to an argument; that there was no situation he couldn’t talk himself out of so long as he chose the right words to say. “I work in marketing. I was in there trying to find answers just like you. I don’t know anything more than the ransomware line they’ve told everyone.”
“Ransomware?” Matt furrowed his brow and looked to his friend with a confused expression on his face. “What’s that?”
“Trident released a statement,” Samuel explained. “Haven’t you seen it?” From the bewildered expressions both men shared, it was obvious neither of them had a clue what he was talking about. “Have you got a cell phone?” He asked, “I can show you – but mine is dead.”
“Uh, yeah,” Matt answered, absentmindedly letting go of the hold he had on Samuel to reach into his pocket and hand him his cell. Samuel didn’t react, though he eyed the gap between the two men and the stairs, seeing if he had enough room to make a break for it. He needed to bide his time. Matt still gripped a crowbar in his other hand and Samuel didn’t want to have to take that on. “Here.”
Taking the phone from Matt, Samuel quickly navigated to the first news site he could find, unsurprised to see a distinct lack of useful apps on the home screen. After a few taps, he had the statement Trident had issued up on the screen, handing the phone back to Matt so he and his friend could both read it. He held his breath, watching the two men’s eyes move from side to side as they read the words on the screen, then, when Samuel was confident they were only about half way through, he lurched forward, pushing between the pair of them and
