Chapters (46)
- COVER PAGE
- PRAISE
- DEDICATION
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- SNEAK PEEK: EXIT .45
Vincent went over to the security desk and told the guy he had an appointment with Gustavo at Concept Estate Solutions. The guard made a call to confirm, and then Vincent had to sign in using a digital tablet. The guy took his photo with a camera on the desk, and then a little printer issued him a long strip of shiny paper on adhesive backing: Vincent’s name and headshot, followed by a barcode.
The guard held it up for him to see. ‘Stick the photo on your shirt, and scan the barcode at the turnstile and in the elevator. All right?’ Enunciating clearly and keeping his eyebrows high as he spoke, and Vincent figured he must have had a few visitors get themselves into a pickle.
He did as he was told, though: stuck the photo to his shirt and scanned the barcode at the turnstile, and then again in the elevator. The two other people riding with him got out on nine. Vincent hit the button for fifteen—the Page Swanson floor—but the elevator knew where he was permitted and where he wasn’t, and didn’t let him out until eighteen.
The offices for Concept Estate Solutions were straight ahead behind glass doors, and he could see a young guy in a headset sitting at a reception counter. Vincent figured the stairwell would adjoin the elevators, so he made a right and then another, back along the depth of the central core, and found the door marked EXIT.
He pushed through, and then held the door open while he checked the lock. Exiting wasn’t an issue, but entering from the stairwell required a proximity badge. There was a sensor on the wall by the jamb, which would probably trigger an alarm if it stayed open. There was a strip of wired glass above the handle, but there was no sign of a breakage sensor—contact or sonic.
He let the door close behind him and stood for a moment on the metal landing, just listening. Nothing of concern. Outside noise muted by the concrete walls. Faint smell of cigarette smoke. He leaned out and looked down the gap between opposing flights of stairs—a narrow slot eighteen storeys high. No one in sight.
He found a fire extinguisher on a bracket on the seventeenth landing and carried it down with him to fifteen. The door at the landing was locked: the same proximity-badge security measure. Vincent put his ear to the panel. Quiet.
No one visible through the little wired window.