Some of the members of CAAD were brought in from overseas, set up as Élan employees. These people also infiltrated our board of directors, having final veto of any decision made by West. CAAD and the board of directors are now indistinguishable from one another. About six months ago, some of the board members found the dirt we’d collected on our employees, started using the damning information to their own advantage, turning these employees against us. It’s been one of the darkest eras of my entire life.
As far as the foreign leaders of CAAD, all the information you need on them is in the other file on the SSD, the one marked “_”. The underscore file is basically a copy of Lennox’s hard drive, with added information on the leaders of CAAD I stole from West’s personal computer. I had the file triple-blind encrypted, with software created by ArchEngine, the same company who made the blueprint file of the building, the same company who West contracted for the building’s new security system. Hopefully you have decrypted it by now.
Nope. Josh flips to a second page.
West is afraid. He’s been threatened with expulsion from the company. He and his family have also been physically threatened by CAAD. His wife is pretty close to leaving him and taking the two children. He’s desperate and wants to get out from under everything. He is trapped. A few months ago, he hired an investigative team to find out what CAAD’s end goal was. He wanted leverage, something to counter all the dirt they had against him. He turned the tables, something I’ve never seen him have the courage to do. The result of the investigation is frightening, both politically and economically, all documented in the “_” folder.
Which brings me to Project Fallback. Enclosed is proof of a manufactured insurance scheme that would protect CAAD’s investment in case of emergency. If Élan goes bankrupt or loses market share beyond forty percent, they have promised to instigate Fallback as a last resort. The simulation is on the ArchEngine file. Use overlays marked “FB” and “SIM.” They are password protected. The password is PLUTUS.
Plutus. Of course. “Narcissistic sonofabitch.”
I knew you could carry on the quest in my absence. I hope you can forgive me. And when this company is dead and buried, I hope we can see each other again.
From,
Kimberly
What an odd way to end a letter, he thinks.
“From Kimberly.”
He flips the page.
“For Josh,” he says. That’s weird too.
He flips it back.
“For Josh from Kimberly.”
Nice touch, he thinks. 4JFK.
He places the letter back in his HARRISON folder, opens the first folder marked FALLBACK, starts laying out the pages on the floor. He pulls out his FBI phone and starts photographing each page—a document outlining the botched gas lines during construction, an early punch list noting gas smells throughout the building, an inspection report noting third-party gas lines as a reason for delay.
“What is this? Some sort of insurance scam involving the gas lines? West, what are you—”
Beep.
The beep is followed by rattling sounds echoing through the hallways.
The overhead lights go out.
He hears footsteps on the stairs.
Reed again, he thinks.
Josh has already shoved the papers back in the folder. He collects the other folders, dumps them in the drawer, closes it. He takes out his phone to call Agent Pillsbury.
He hears someone in the hallway around the corner.
“Who’s there?” the voice says.
The voice sounds like Reed—a slight lisp, higher pitch.
“It’s just me.” Josh says, stepping out into the hallway. “Is that you, Reed?”
He hears footsteps coming closer.
Josh tries to sound casual. “I was just pulling some information I need for the event tomorrow. West asked me to—”
A hooded figure turns the corner, lunges toward Josh.
The sudden movement of the hooded man causes Josh to jump. He drops the phone, watches it slide underneath the fire extinguisher. He glances at the emergency exit vent to his left.
No time.
He runs inside the storage closet, shuts the door, locks it. He leans against the door, his chest thumping. The force of a sudden pound pushes Josh away. He backs up into the room, turns around, stares at the door. With each blow, Josh sees the face of John F. Kennedy pulsate, the metal booming in his ears.
Boom.
Boom.
The hinges are weakening, splintering.
Boom.
C h a p t e r 4 8
“THANKS FOR MEETING me here, Shawn.” Tracy follows Shawn up the stairs of Josh’s apartment building, her heels booming through the corridor. “Josh is not answering his calls.”
“It’s seven a.m., Tracy, maybe he’s still asleep.” Shawn brushes by a suited man with a notepad. “Excuse me.”
“On the morning of his biggest event?” Tracy replies. “You don’t know Josh Harrison.”
“You do, I take it? He said you guys used to work together at another company.”
“Years ago. He was my agent. I love that man-boy. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
They walk through the stairwell door. Shawn pauses, unsure of which way to go.
“To the right.” Tracy leads the way. She passes by another man with a notepad just finishing talking with one of Josh’s neighbors. She turns back to Shawn. “Who are all these men in suits?”
“No idea.” Shawn pauses at Josh’s front door. “Should I knock?”
“I don’t have a key anymore. He changed the locks, remember?”
Shawn knocks. The door cracks open.
“Looks like somebody’s home.” Shawn walks inside. “Josh? Buddy? It’s Tracy and Shawn. You okay?”
“If he’s depressed again,” Tracy says walking directly behind him, “I’m not sure I can handle that shit right now.”
They walk down the hall to his bedroom. The safe in the wall is completely
