Chapter 18
Christina
The room they put me into is more like a storage bay. It has a concrete floor, a metal table and chairs, but no windows. The walls and ceiling are painted stark white. I’m uncomfortable and getting chilled sitting on the metal chair.
My wrists ache where the zip-ties bit into my skin during the struggle. One of the guards finally cut them off, but the marks still throb. My body wants to shake but I fight it because I don’t want to seem weak. I wrap my hands around my stomach and try to keep my shit together.
The door opens and Hanley steps inside. His pleasant smile from the tour is completely gone.
Now his lips are pressed together in a hard line, his face is pale and he moves stiffly.
Everything about his presentation screams angry and anxious.
That tells me he isn’t used to dealing with situations like this.
He closes the door behind him with a soft click and adjusts his tie before walking towards me. “Christina Lane,” he says.
Hearing my real name sends a shiver up my spine. His security team figured out who I am pretty damn quick. When I don’t answer, he adds, “You caused quite a problem today.”
“All I did was ask for a tour,” I say calmly. “Then I got turned around when I came out of the restroom and got lost.”
Hanley sits across the table from me and folds his hands together. “Let us avoid the games. You went into a restricted wing. You were looking for something. What was it?”
I do not give him the satisfaction of looking away. “I was looking for a way out and accidentally ended up there.”
He leans back in the metal chair. “Why did you use a fake press pass when you entered our building?”
“That was a simple mix up. My friend and I were having lunch earlier. We must have picked up the wrong badges.” I’m alarmed at how easily lies are falling from my lips today.
“We know who you are, Ms. Lane. This is the second time you’ve broken into one of our facilities. The last time you accessed our mainframe and stole sensitive information. We want that information back.”
My heartrate speeds up, but I try to keep calm. “If you know all that, then you know your people have been stalking me.”
“Monitoring,” he says. “You’re the one who stole restricted files when you breached the first facility.” He tilts his head. “We must have that proprietary information back.”
“You’re out of luck. Everything on the file was encrypted. Once I discovered I couldn’t access it, I threw it away.”
“That’s not the information we were given by our private investigator.”
“You mean the man you hired to stalk me. He followed me and my daughter across multiple states, broke into my home and literally chased us down the street in the dark of night.”
His expression stays blank, except for a slight twitch near his right eye. “I highly doubt that. He was told to retrieve what you stole, not harass you. If you had handed over the flash drive the first time he asked, there would have been no incident.”
My jaw tightens. “I don’t have it and he never even asked me for anything.”
His tone shifts, sharpening. “Where is it?”
I shrug. “I told you, it’s gone.”
“Gone is not helpful.”
I just stare at him, refusing to say anything.
He shifts forward. “You traveled here today with a man named Rivera. One of your former companions from Kabul. You expect me to believe you actually came for a tour?”
Changing up my tactic, I say, “I came to see if your company was connected to the corruption that’s running rampant in other parts of your organization.”
“Your curiosity always did exceed your caution.”
Something cold twists in my gut. “You knew about me back then?”
“Let’s just say, I’m familiar with the reports concerning you from that time period.
” His voice softens a bit. “You arrived in Kabul with a team of reporters. A group of you swarmed REACH, asking inappropriate questions about our business contracts and forced your way into one of our offices. Your group stole information from our database. It’s unclear what you and your team were even trying to investigate.
Since you’re the only survivor, you must have the flash drive. ”
“We were investigating corruption,” I snap before I can stop myself.
“Alleged corruption,” he shoots back.
“Right. I’m an investigative reporter. It’s what I do. I investigate potential corruption.”
“And look where all that prying into other people’s affairs led you.
” He gestures to the guards. “You ended up homeless, hunted, and separated from your family and friends. You haven’t been investigating anything meaningful for the past four years.
You should just give the flash drive back and be done with this facet of your life. ”
I stare at him coldly, because his words really hit a nerve.
He laces his fingers together. “Tell me where the drive is. Whether or not you could decrypt the information on the drive, it was still the most valuable part of your investigation. It’s unlikely that you simply threw it away one day out of frustration.”
“Well, that’s exactly what happened.”
His voice turns colder. “This level of defiance is unnecessary. Corporate security will be here soon. They specialize in the extraction of sensitive information. Their methods can be unpleasant but persuasive.”
His words worry me, but I try not to show it. “Do you actually think threatening me will get you what you want?”
Hanley studies my face, and something in my expression must give him pause.
“What do you expect to gain from this situation?” he asks. “Is it fortune, fame, glory or is this some vain attempt to get your five minutes in the spotlight?”
Remembering the real reason I started investigating REACH, I sit up straighter and let him have it.
“I’m expecting the truth about your company’s corruption to come out.
I’m expecting your company to fall apart when law enforcement gets their hands on the proof of their wrongdoing.
I’m expecting everything you buried to be uncovered. ”
He stands abruptly and adjusts his tie. “Corporate security will handle you when they arrive. Until then, you sit here and think about the consequences of choosing to slander an innocent by spreading lies and damaging our reputation in the community.”
He gestures at the guards. “Don’t let her out of your sight,” he says as he walks out the door.
Despite his harsh words, something shifts inside me. A fierce resolve spreads through my mind. There is more going on here than meets the eye. I can just feel it. Plus, they wouldn’t be afraid if I weren’t onto something.
Time drags a bit after Hanley leaves. The guards stand near the door with their arms crossed, looking both bored and irritated at the same time.
The tension in this room is palpable. I just hope Slate got the message I sent before I got rid of my phone.
I’m pleased I threw my phone away—when Hanley’s goons finally caught up with me the first thing they did was search my bag.
I told them I’d left my phone with the friend who drove me here.
The fact that it’s just me here means that Rivera has managed to avoid capture.
So help should be on the way. I just need to hold on long enough for Slate and his club brothers to arrive.
Eventually we hear footsteps echoing in the hall. The steps are heavier than Hanley’s. And they seem to be moving with purpose. Even the guards react, straightening and adopting a more formal pose.
The door opens and three men walk in wearing dark suits that do nothing to hide the fact that their bodies were built for breaking people. They all have broad shoulders, stern expressions and stiff military posturing. Corporate security is code for REACH’s personal cleanup crew.
The tallest stands in front of me and rests his hands on the table, clearly trying to be intimidating. The name tag dangling around his neck says ‘Marc M’. He scans my face with the attitude of someone who’s used to people folding under his stare.
I don’t lower my eyes, because if I do, he’ll just crank up the intimidation. “Hello, Marc.”
“Christina Lane,” he says. “I know exactly who you are.”
I don’t respond because these guys are supposed to be professionals at getting information out of people. I want to pace myself and carefully choose my words.
He studies my reaction for a moment, then says, “You’re making this complicated.
You made our security contractor track you down.
You withheld stolen data. And now you walk into one of our facilities and try to get into our secured area.
” His voice carries a note of raw power.
These are the kind of men who believe their power is absolute.
I hold his stare. “Your company was hired to provide food and water to hard-to-reach areas. Then you triple charged for supplies that were sometimes not even delivered.”
“We did our job to the best of our ability and anytime we operated outside of parameters it was with express consent of the US military.”
“Then why did my investigation provoke such a wildly disproportionate response?”
Rolling right past my questions, he tells me in no uncertain terms, “You are going to deliver that flash drive to me. You’re also going to tell me if you duplicated it and who, if anyone, you shared the information with.”
“I’m not telling you anything,” I say defiantly.
He doesn’t blink. “You will. Trust me on that.”
I feel my panic rising, but I clamp down on it.
I’ve survived a bomb blast, a coma, and childbirth, virtually all alone.
Not to mention being on the run from the asshole they sicced on me while I had a baby in my arms. I survived waking up every day not knowing if I would make it to the next.
These men might scare people easily, but fear does not rule my world anymore.
“We need to transport her,” another one says from near the door. “There’s an off-site location two hours away. It has fewer eyes.”