Page 85 of Twisted Shadows
He let himself close his eyes.
Stensby leaned forward as Alex drove the Hellcat past the front doors of Stone Solutions and pulled into the closest parking spot, one with a big sign that readReserved.
“Keith and I were here a couple days ago,” Stensby said, as Alex cut the engine. “There’s a decent amount of security at night: cameras, patrolling guards, that kind of thing.”
“We can take care of that,” Alex said, looking over his shoulder at Stensby. “And thanks to our friend Mr. Macy, I know the security around Mr. Stone’s office hasn’t had the grand finish they’ve promised the public. Keeping a CEO in a secret hospital is all well and good until you need his fingerprints and retina scan to finish your security upgrade.”
He looked back to Keith. “If you two could go in and handle the cameras first, I’d be mighty appreciative. Let Officer Stensby take the lead; in that police uniform, he’s as good as a Trojan horse. Night shift security will let him right in.”
Stensby led the way to the building. He’d read a detailed report on Reece Davies’ arrest at Stone Solutions the night he’d broken in. According to the report, Stone Solutions’ security control room was on the first floor, full of monitors and all the hardware that ran the system. He’d noticed the room for himself just the other night at the AMI meeting.
They only had to wait at the main sliding glass doors for about three minutes before a security guard came hurrying over. A moment later, the doors were sliding open for them.
“Hello, officer,” the security guard started. “Can I help—”
Stensby headbutted him full in the face.
The man staggered backward. He stumbled into the lobby and crashed into one of the chairs, falling to the ground in a heap. Keith was on him as he fell, grabbing the nightstick from his belt.
“What—” the guard started, garbled through his mouthful of blood.
Stensby grabbed his own nightstick, heavy and deadly. This would handle both the guard and the security equipment nicely.
A few minutes later, Stensby returned to the car. Alex was leaning against it, phone in hand. “Welcome back,” he said, pocketing the phone as Stensby hurried toward him. “Are we cleared for entry?”
“Yes, sir.” Stensby held up a security card. “We took care of the first guard and I lifted this. Keith’s gone hunting for the others.”
“Excellent,” Alex said, taking the card and pocketing it.
Stensby would do anything for him.
They crossed through the lobby, Alex calmly stepping over the crumpled body of the guard on the way to the elevators.
They rode up to twenty-two. Stensby had only been on the first floor until now, and his eyes widened as the elevator door opened into a suite that took up the entire level. The front area was set up for entertaining, with a living room set, a fully stocked bar, and an endless view of Bellevue city lights. There were doors around the walls that might have led to a private office and bathroom, maybe private elevator to the roof’s helipad, and even a panic room, if Stensby had to guess.
Alex tried one of the doors. “Locked.”
Howdarea locked door get in Alex’s way. “I got it.” Stensby drew back his foot in sudden rage and kicked the door. It flew open so hard it bounced off the wall, hanging precariously on its hinges.
“Appreciated, I’m sure,” Alex said.
Stensby followed Alex into the office and waited as he surveyed the giant desk, the endless bookshelves, the art on the walls.
Alex tilted his head, staring at the giant flatscreen that took up a sizable chunk of the right wall. It displayed a map of North America, with blue circles dotted all over the United States.
“And what do we have here?” Alex muttered, stepping forward. “Oh, isn’t this quaint. They track the empaths.”
Stensby stared at the map. Some of the dots on the map were moving very slowly, like a flight map on an airplane. Alex stepped forward, reaching out so his finger hovered over the Seattle area.
“Just one of us in Seattle now, although somehow I very much doubt that Reece Davies is actually chilling in the shoulder of I-5.”
“We used to have a second empath,” Stensby said. “Cora Falcon was her name. She was a therapist at the veterans’ hospital, but she disappeared the same night Senator Hathaway was killed.”
Alex’s gaze flicked up, from Seattle to Alaska and then back down as he traced a finger up along the British Columbia coastline, where there were four red dots. “And what do we have here?”
He made a flicking motion, spreading his fingers, and the touch screen zoomed in on a green space quite far north of Vancouver. “What are four empaths doing on an island off the North Coast?”
“I know that island, I’ve gone fishing up there,” Stensby said. “Used to be a Gold Rush hub, but now there’s nothing there, just a ghost town and some empty mines. I can’t think of a reason empaths would be there.”
