11

Harry Gibb hurried through the deserted government office. He knew even his most eager fellow civil servants wouldn’t show their faces until at least 8:00 a.m. That gave him two hours of solitude. Still, he glanced nervously around before unlocking the main archive room and ducking inside.

Flicking on the switch, he waited for the fluorescent strip lights to cast their stark white glare over the rows and rows of gray filing cabinets. Each one was a carbon copy of the next, impossible to tell apart, but Harry knew exactly what he was looking for. Heading straight over to the sixth cabinet in the third row, he pulled out a thick binder of documents marked MINING RIGHTS, GOLDFIELDS, WA.

Despite everything being stored digitally nowadays, there was always a paper trail in government. He’d been careful to remove any evidence from his computer, but these damning documents were the remaining crumbs that could lead to him and his under-the-table dealings.

Yet he wouldn’t destroy the files. The contents of this folder, detailing his co-conspirators, were his insurance policy. Harry Gibb knew that those who had profited from the shady deals also had a vested interest in protecting his reputation. If he went down, so would they.

Smiling to himself, Harry closed the filing cabinet, switched off the light and locked the archive room. Clutching the files to his chest, he scurried across to his office and bolted inside. Only when he’d secured the door behind him did he feel safe in his domain.

Turning to his desk, Harry almost jumped out of his skin when he discovered a man in a gray suit sitting in his chair.

“M-my secretary didn’t mention any meetings this morning,” he blustered.

“She doesn’t know of this meeting,” replied the man. “No one does.”

The uninvited guest did not get up or introduce himself. He just studied Harry with unblinking eyes that seemed chiseled from ice.

“Who are you?” Harry demanded, gathering his wits and becoming angry. “Are you a reporter? Get out of my chair!”

The man was indifferent to Harry’s outrage. “I represent a certain investor.”

“And who might that be?” Harry challenged.

“Your primary investor.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Harry. He felt himself becoming flustered. There was something deeply unsettling about this man. He was like a spider crawling across his skin, and Harry wanted him gone. “If you don’t leave right now, I’ll call security.”

“I’d advise against that.”

“Are you threatening me?”

The man sat as still as a block of stone, his silence more unnerving than any reply. Then he said, “Equilibrium.”

“What?” snapped Harry, frowning in disbelief.

“You heard me.”

“Ahh,” said Harry, relaxing slightly. This man had to be from his key investor. There could be no other way he’d have known of the organization’s name. It had taken Harry weeks to discover it for himself—Equilibrium, the parent investor behind all those false “shell” companies who’d invested in the mining rights.

Feeling once more in charge of the situation, Harry strode over and dropped the thick binder onto his desk.

“I’m dealing with the problem,” he said, waving a dismissive hand in the man’s direction. “Equilibrium need not be concerned. Neither their existence nor their involvement will be revealed. Plans are in place to handle Mr. Sterling and his prying newspaper.”

“But you’re familiar with Equilibrium.”

“Of course,” said Harry. “I was thorough in selecting my investors.”

“And are they fully protected from the current crisis?”

“Oh yes,” Harry assured him. “I’ve erased all evidence from my computer records.”

“So have I,” said the man, pulling a tiny USB drive from the back of Harry’s computer. “A malware virus has just wiped your hard drive.”

“You can’t do that!” exclaimed Harry.

“And what about those files there?” asked the man, ignoring Harry’s protest and nodding at the thick wad of documents on his desk.

“These? They’re just an insurance policy.”

“Hmm, that’s the problem,” said the man, adjusting the crisp white cuffs of his shirt. “Not only do you know Equilibrium’s name but you possess evidence of its existence.”

“I . . . I’m not going to expose Equilibrium’s involvement in this. The file is just for my own protection from the other parties. They know nothing about Equilibrium,” said Harry, suddenly feeling a chill run down his spine from the man’s sinister casualness. “Trust me. I’m a man of my word.”

“You’re a politician,” the other corrected sharply, his ice-pick eyes fixing him with a contemptuous look. “But I’ll take your word . . . for what it’s worth.”

Without further discussion, the man stood and left. Once the door closed on him, the room seemed to breathe again.

Although the man was gone, Harry felt a familiar tightening in his chest. He unlocked his desk drawer and pulled out his heart pills. With an unsteady hand, he unscrewed the bottle cap and shook out two pills. As he swallowed them, he felt a burning sensation that continued down his throat, into his stomach . . . and kept spreading.

His heart stabbed with pain, his throat constricted, his breath became short and pained, and the tablets fell out of his hands, spilling all over the floor.

Thinking he needed more medication, Harry fell to his knees and hunted for his pills. He fumbled around, scattering beta-blockers across the floor as his heart was seized in a viselike grip. Harry rolled on the floor, his lips foaming with spittle. He clawed at the little white tablets strewn around him. But his body was racked with pain, fire raging through his veins.

“H . . . h . . . help!” he moaned. “Heeelp . . .”

The man in the gray suit reentered the room.

“P . . . p . . . please,” Harry begged, reaching out.

But the man merely observed Harry writhe on the carpet with an almost inhuman detachment. Harry’s eyes bulged, unable to comprehend the man’s indifference. A sharp pain speared his chest. He shuddered once more, then lay still.

The man in the gray suit checked Harry Gibb’s body for signs of life. Satisfied, he picked up the documents from the desk, the medicine bottle and the poisoned heart pills from the floor. Quietly closing the office door behind him, he headed for the emergency exit, the first phase of his mission accomplished.