The metal doors open to reveal the basement. It’s a lot quieter than I expected.

No employees that I can see.

Like I remember, there are servers running and they create a static hum. In the distance, there is a trundling sound that makes me think the printer lies in that direction. Shouldering my bag, I step off the elevator and weave through the six-foot-high servers, desperately trying to reduce the warning voice in my head that has gone from a whisper to a shout. I just need to find Lisette, do everything I can to stop the article from running and then I can concentrate on whatever my sixth sense is trying to tell me.

I’ve almost located the source of the rolling sound when voices reach my ears.

A man and a woman are talking. I can’t make out any of the words. I’m too close to the noise now and it’s mostly drowning the conversation out. But when there is a break in the mechanical whir of the printer, I hear the woman’s voice and recognize it immediately.

Karina?

I thought she was working in the field today.

Did she come in personally to prevent my piece from running?

If so, I will worship her forever.

I start to take a step around the server blocking me from view, but before my foot touches the floor, the man’s voice responds to Karina—and my blood becomes ice.

Deputy Mayor Alexander.

My heart starts pounding like a jackrabbit. That shout in the back of my head is more urgent now. It’s telling me to get out of there. Now. There is no reason Alexander and Karina should be talking in hushed tones in the basement of the Times, is there?

“You said printing her little bullshit article would be a distraction from the real story,” Alexander says. “You guaranteed me this would cause her to back off. That all she wanted was something of hers to be published. So why is it being yanked?”

“I don’t know. I can’t ask too many questions without her getting suspicious. She didn’t respond when I asked her where she was staying. I’m a journalist. I know when to push and when my subject is getting jumpy.”

Heavy footsteps tell me Alexander is starting to pace. “When you came to me with her suspicions, I told you to suppress the article. In exchange, I was going to give you inside information, as soon as I took over as mayor. That deal is very close to being off the table. I’m quite happy with our arrangement with the Post.”

“Listen to me, Elise isn’t even a reporter. She isn’t employed by the Times—”

“That makes her more of a liability. Not less. She could take it to another paper.”

Karina sighs. “I said, I’ve got her under control.”

I’m already backing up as slowly as possible, but it’s hard to focus on my steps when my mind has turned into a wind funnel. “Me Plus Three” wasn’t good enough to be printed. It was all about placating me. So I would drop the mole story. And worst of all, I’ve been played by Karina. That’s what I’ve been missing.