“Shannon is in position. Go in two, one, now.”
Cooper stepped around the edge of the corner. Shannon had shifted in where the guard wasn’t looking, on the far side, and as Cooper started forward she coughed and pressed the call button. The guard whirled, one hand flying to his coat, and Cooper could read his thoughts, see him wondering how the hell this girl had gotten here without him noticing. Shannon smiled, just an office worker waiting for the elevator. The guard studied her, first relaxing and then stiffening when he heard Cooper’s footsteps. He started to turn.
Too late.
Cooper grabbed his head in both hands and wrenched savagely, put all the anger into it, and the man’s neck snapped and his body went limp and dead.
The elevator dinged. Cooper dragged the body on, pulling by the man’s lolling head. Shannon pushed the buttons for five and ten.
“You two are scary together,” Quinn said in both their ears. “Looks like the lobby guard didn’t hear a thing. Good hunting.”
The doors closed, and the elevator began to rise. Shannon said, “Nick, look—”
He cut her off. “You can do this.”
“I just—”
“Listen,” he said and then kissed her. She was briefly startled but returned the kiss, the elevator pinging off floors as their tongues danced. A kiss for luck and a cry for help and as clear a statement as he could think to make, and then the elevator stopped. He put one hand on her cheek. “I trust you.”
She straightened her shoulders. “Buy me the time.”
“Whatever it costs.”
Shannon stepped off the elevator and turned right. Cooper pressed the door close button, come on, come on, and then the elevator was in motion again.
Nothing to do now but wait for the future to arrive.
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
The doors slid open. Cooper took a deep breath and walked through them.
The hallway was corporate chic, gray carpet with a subtle pattern, beige walls, recessed lighting, a backlit glass display board listing the company names. Quinn said, “Turn right, third office on your left.”
Cooper started down the hall. “Any sign of backup?”
“Negative. Local DAR frequencies are quiet, and the only phone I’ve monitored out of the building is on the third floor. A woman explaining to her husband that she’ll be home late.”
The office doors were heavy glass with bright metal handles, business names etched in the glass. He passed a lobbyist’s office and a real estate firm, rounded the corner, saw the third. Hingepoint Productions, the first word spelled out lowercase and boxed in a design. A faint double-chime pinged as he stepped through the door.
Quinn had said this was a graphic design firm, and the décor looked it. The near walls were painted a risky shade of orange that worked, and in place of paintings, skateboard decks were bolted to the wall, each a miniature work of art, robots and monsters, graffiti and skylines.
The floor plan had shown cubicles, but now he saw they were half-cubes, coming up maybe four feet. The ceiling was exposed, conduit and air-conditioning hanging from the girders. Quinn said, “I’ve unlocked all offices on the fifth floor. Shannon has checked the first, no luck. She’s moving on.”
Cooper moved down the aisle and stepped into the office proper. He could see clear across it in all directions. The studio took up a corner of the building, the exterior walls glass from floor to ceiling. With the overhead lights on, they were dark mirrors, bouncing the space back upon itself. In the precise center of the office there was a long conference table surrounded by chairs.
Beside it stood Drew Peters and Roger Dickinson.
Cooper strolled forward. Calm and steady. Taking his time; the longer he could stall, the longer Shannon would have.