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A light drizzle fell over the city as Ellie and Tom passed under the halogen street lighting outside the glass façade of the BAZ offices and through the swivel doors. The rotating mechanism resisted as Ellie pressed her weight against it, and for a moment her courage failed her. Her heart thrummed like a hummingbird in her chest. She’d walked through this gleaming entrance hall a thousand times before, but never illicitly.
Still, her anger burned brightly at the injustice of the betrayal of the circus folk she’d come to know. She didn’t blame them for not wanting to speak to her. Guilt about her role in the matter and shame about her unceremonious firing fizzled underneath the righteousness; they propelled her forward when anyone else might have reconsidered their plans. In her eyes, she had a free pass for duplicitous behaviour given the reasons for it.
Tom had checked the building had been emptied of news-hounds. Only a night duty manager and support staff remained–security guards, a lonely receptionist and cleaners–who knew the habits of the workforce so well that anything untoward could alert them to foul play.
They entered the lobby and she became Tom’s shadow, so close that she clipped his heels. Undercover work had never been her forté, but they’d had a cursory discussion about how to avoid suspicion and detection. She wore a hat pulled down low over her ears and had tucked her hair into her jacket collar. Tom’s tall frame shielded her from the security cameras.
Their footsteps echoed on the glistening marble floor as they approached the receptionist, who perched ramrod-straight on the edge of her stool, typing with tapered fingers edged with coral nail varnish. She threw them a cursory glance.
“She’s with me,” said Tom, stopping short and showing his pass.
Ellie stumbled into his back.
Tom’s pursed his lips and his eyes flickered with irritation.
“Sign in, please,” said the woman.
Ellie scribbled in the guest book using a school friend’s name, taking care not to make eye contact, and received a visitor’s badge. They reached the security arch, and a guard with ruddy cheeks nodded them through without incident. Ellie hurried to call the lift, and knew relief when the doors pinged open.
“Hold it together,” said Tom under his breath, pressing the button for their floor.
The doors closed, and Ellie breathed out. Apprehension wound itself like a thread pulled tight around her spine. “I’m forever grateful for this, Tom. I’ll need you to keep a lookout in case Marina comes back, but if I get caught, say what’s necessary to keep your job.”
“Deal... and please, don’t thank me yet. Marina has a dinner tonight. The morning edition is off to print and there’s barely a soul left in the office, but we’ll still need to be on our toes.”
Ellie nodded, sombre and focused. The lift jolted to a halt and the doors slid open. She held her breath, half expecting an ambush. Instead, the lights flickered on and the hum of computers on standby greeted them.
Tom lifted an eyebrow. “The last time I stayed this late, Remi and Paulina were doing it like rabbits in the copier room. Awkward.”
Ellie stifled her laughter then pulled herself together. “My journal turned up yet?”
“No, sorry.”
“You still have my laptop?” She dug into her pocket and pulled out a memory stick.
“This way.”
They strode down the corridor to his desk, from which he retrieved her laptop. Within minutes, she’d powered it up and downloaded her work onto her stick drive. The lift chimed open.
Tom jumped and turned pale. When no one emerged, he exhaled. “Hurry, Ellie.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I find out what she’s hiding.” No-one could cover all their tracks, especially if they considered their office to be a safe space.
He pushed a scrap of paper into her palm with clammy hands. “You’ll need this.”
She unfolded it, brows furrowed. On it, in Tom’s messy scrawl, stood a jumble of letters and numbers. “Her password?”
His lips twisted in a wry smile. “My best guess. I’ve looked over her shoulder a hundred times while she typed it.”
She wanted to throw her arms around him, but there would be time for that later. “I’ll be as quick as I can. Any sign of trouble, leave.”
Ellie opened the door to Marina’s office with jittery fingers. Inside, darkness shrouded the room apart from a narrow sliver of light that fell through the blinds across the desk. Her feet padded across the carpet as she headed straight for Marina’s computer terminal. How many times had she been at the other side of this desk, eager for approval?
She sank into Marina’s ergonomic mesh chair and ruffled through a sheaf of papers. Nothing jumped out. In the corner of the room stood a tall filing cabinet, but if Marina was like her, anything that mattered would have a digital copy on her hard drive. Ellie tapped the keyboard. The monitor sprang to life, showing a bikini-clad Marina with her arms wrapped around her smiling partner in the Côte d’Azur. It was the first time Ellie had seen past the businesswoman veil Marina presented to the world, and for a moment she regretted this breach of Marina’s privacy.
Osman’s face flashed before her, and Yusuf’s, and Simeon, bleeding into the sawdust floor. She couldn’t afford to be soft now. The story demanded that she continue searching. With new resolve, she smoothed out Tom’s note and typed in Marina’s password, taking care not to make any errors, then pressed return. The screen flickered. It had worked.
She pulled out her phone, where she’d noted a list of dates Tom had told her might be of relevance. Dates when Marina had disappeared for the afternoon without telling him of her whereabouts. She worked in the glow of the computer screen, cross-checking with Marina’s calendar, but her entries replicated Tom’s. She failed to find any additional information of value.
Could it be that Marina was hiding a romance, and her cageyness had nothing to do with work after all? With every passing minute, Ellie’s frustration grew, as did her fear of being discovered. Tom, too, keeping watch, had likely crumpled into a bundle of nerves outside.
Next she delved into Marina’s email inbox. Twenty minutes passed and she found only cutting missives to subordinates and fawning ones to superiors. She plugged in her pen drive, hoping to copy the contents of the machine onto her stick but a notice sprung up. The stick didn’t hold enough memory.
“Dammit.”
Even if she chose a limited number of folders, the contents would take a few hours to download. She couldn’t risk that. She began rummaging through the documents, clicking through various sub-folders, unsure of what she was searching for, doubting herself. She wasn’t an investigative journalist. Marina had experience and cunning on her side. There was no way Ellie could best her. The documents had been fragmented into sections: finance; advertising; editorials; arts; news desk; sport; recordings; human resources; IT.
The intercom buzzed and Ellie leapt out of her skin.
Tom’s voice pierced the wall of silence around her. “What’s taking so long?”
“I can’t find anything.”
“Damn. We have to go.”
“Just a few more minutes.”
She scanned the folder list again. Her eyes lingered on two, titled Finance and Recordings. She hit copy. The progress bar came up just as she heard muffled voices outside. Her heart thudded. A rush of blood filled her ears.
Ellie turned the screen off just as the door opened, sliding off the chair and into the space under the desk. She pulled the chair in after her.
The light flicked on and Marina’s heels spiked the carpet as she headed for the filing cabinet.
“Really, Tom, I have no idea why you’re still here. Everyone will think I’m a slave driver.”
Tom’s scuffed shoes appeared at the door. “There’s nothing I can help you with?”
Marina turned towards the desk. “Go home, for Pete’s sake.”
Ellie’s breath stuck in her throat. Marina was bound to notice the pen drive. Ellie curled herself into a ball, willing the moment to pass. A drawer clunked open, shaking the desk.
“There it is.” Marina slammed the drawer shut, stalked to the door and turned the light off.
Underneath the desk, Ellie trembled, listening to their retreating voices. She stood and retrieved the pen drive with the copied files, thanking her lucky stars for her escape. A few minutes later, she left Marina’s office with tentative steps, peeking around the door before proceeding. The coast had cleared.
Only when she reached home, eager to check the files, did she realise she’d misplaced the scrap of paper with Marina’s password on it.
