Chapter 6 Digging Too Deep
Questions
Viktor spent the next morning pretending the previous night had never happened.
It was a strategy he had perfected over the years.
Ignore uncomfortable emotions.
Avoid complicated thoughts.
Focus on work.
Simple.
Effective.
Usually.
Unfortunately, every time he looked across the construction site, he saw Elias.
And every time he saw Elias, he remembered sitting beneath the stars with the younger man's hand resting over his.
The memory refused to leave.
It followed him through the morning like an unwelcome shadow.
By eight o'clock, Viktor was already irritated.
Mostly with himself.
The camp was unusually busy.
Several new shipments had arrived overnight, creating delays throughout multiple sections of the project. Workers rushed between buildings while supervisors barked instructions from clipboards.
Normal chaos.
Viktor preferred it that way.
Work gave him something else to focus on.
Something practical.
Concrete didn't care about emotions.
Steel beams didn't ask difficult questions.
Construction made sense.
People rarely did.
Especially not Elias Hart.
The younger man had somehow become the center of attention without trying.
Again.
As Viktor crossed the site carrying equipment toward one of the unfinished structures, he spotted Elias standing near a group of workers.
At first, nothing seemed unusual.
The architecture student spent most days talking to laborers.
Interviewing them.
Gathering information.
Listening.
The difference today was the subject matter.
Viktor noticed it immediately.
Because the workers looked uncomfortable.
One older laborer glanced around before answering a question.
Another lowered his voice.
A third checked to make sure no supervisors were nearby.
That wasn't normal.
Curious despite himself, Viktor slowed slightly.
He couldn't hear everything.
Only fragments.
"...reported it twice..."
"...nothing happened..."
"...they patched it instead..."
The pieces were enough.
Safety concerns.
Worker complaints.
Problems management preferred to ignore.
Viktor continued walking.
His expression darkened.
This wasn't good.
Not because Elias was asking questions.
Because he was asking the wrong questions.
The dangerous ones.
Construction sites always had problems.
Equipment failures.
Safety shortcuts.
Budget cuts.
Everyone knew it.
Most people learned quickly when to stop digging.
Apparently nobody had informed Elias.
The younger man thanked the workers and wrote something in his notebook.
Then he moved on to another group.
Another conversation.
More questions.
More notes.
The pattern repeated throughout the morning.
Everywhere Viktor went, Elias seemed to be collecting information.
Not for a class project anymore.
Something had changed.
The realization settled heavily in Viktor's stomach.
The architecture student wasn't studying housing conditions.
He was investigating.
There was a difference.
A significant one.
And if management noticed, things could become ugly very quickly.
By lunchtime, Viktor had counted at least a dozen conversations involving worker complaints.
Faulty equipment.
Unsafe procedures.
Ignored reports.
Minor injuries.
The kind of issues companies preferred staying hidden.
The kind of issues that could create serious problems.
The kid was playing with fire.
He clearly didn't realize it.
Or worse.
Maybe he did.
That possibility worried Viktor even more.
After lunch, the situation escalated.
Viktor was repairing a damaged hydraulic system near the northern section of camp when Carlos approached.
The older worker looked uneasy.
Immediately, Viktor knew something was wrong.
"What happened?"
Carlos glanced around.
"Your student."
Viktor frowned.
"He's not my student."
"You know who I mean."
Unfortunately, he did.
"What now?"
Carlos lowered his voice.
"He's asking about incident reports."
Viktor stopped working.
The wrench in his hand suddenly felt heavier.
"Incident reports?"
Carlos nodded.
"And maintenance records."
That was worse.
Much worse.
Worker complaints could be explained away.
Maintenance records told stories.
Real stories.
Dangerous stories.
Years of them.
The older worker rubbed the back of his neck.
"I told him to be careful."
"What did he say?"
Carlos sighed.
"He asked where older records were stored."
Wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
Viktor closed his eyes briefly.
The kid wasn't just digging.
He was excavating.
And sooner or later, someone was going to notice.
When that happened, nobody would care about his last name.
Not even Richard Hart's son would be untouchable.
Some truths cost too much money.
Some questions threatened too many people.
Viktor knew exactly how those situations usually ended.
Poorly.
Very poorly.
The rest of the afternoon passed beneath a growing sense of unease.
Every instinct Viktor possessed screamed that something was wrong.
Not yet.
Soon.
The feeling reminded him of approaching storms.
That strange pressure in the air before everything broke.
He hated it.
Mostly because his instincts rarely failed him.
Near the end of the shift, he headed toward the administration building to retrieve several maintenance requests.
The temporary office sat slightly apart from the main construction zone.
Most workers avoided it whenever possible.
Too much management.
Too many supervisors.
Too many problems.
As Viktor approached, he noticed something unusual.
The side entrance stood partially open.
That alone wasn't strange.
What caught his attention was the shadow moving inside.
The building should have been empty.
Most administrative staff had already left for the day.
A familiar feeling settled in his chest.
Suspicion.
Without making a sound, he moved closer.
Years of experience helped.
Large men weren't supposed to move quietly.
Viktor had learned differently.
The side hallway remained empty.
So did the reception area.
Then he heard it.
A drawer sliding open.
Paper shifting.
Someone searching.
Slowly, he followed the sound.
The records room sat near the back of the building.
Its door stood slightly ajar.
Viktor approached.
Looked inside.
And immediately felt his blood pressure rise.
Elias stood in the middle of the room.
Surrounded by open filing cabinets.
Stacks of folders covered the table.
Several boxes sat on the floor.
The younger man didn't notice him.
Not at first.
His entire focus remained on the documents spread before him.
Maintenance reports.
Inspection records.
Internal complaints.
Files clearly marked restricted access.
Jesus Christ.
The idiot had actually done it.
Not just asked questions.
Not just investigated.
Broken into records.
Viktor stared in disbelief.
Part of him wanted to laugh.
The other part wanted to drag Elias out of the building before somebody else found him.
Neither reaction felt particularly helpful.
The younger man picked up another file.
Turned a page.
Made a note.
Completely unaware that he had crossed a very dangerous line.
Finally, Viktor spoke.
"What the hell are you doing?"
The words cut through the room like a knife.
Elias jumped violently.
A folder slipped from his hands.
Papers scattered across the floor.
For one brief second, pure shock filled his face.
Then guilt followed immediately.
Because both of them knew exactly what he had been caught doing.
Standing in the middle of a restricted records room.
Searching through documents he was never supposed to see.
Stay Out of It
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Papers remained scattered across the floor.
Open folders covered the table.
The fluorescent lights above them hummed softly, filling the silence that followed Viktor's question.
Elias recovered first.
A guilty expression flashed across his face before being replaced by stubborn determination.
That was somehow worse.
Viktor could deal with embarrassment.
He could deal with curiosity.
Determination was dangerous.
Especially when it came wrapped inside someone who clearly had no idea what kind of trouble he was creating.
"What are you doing in here?" Viktor asked again.
His voice remained low.
Controlled.
Barely.
Elias straightened.
"I was looking through records."
"No kidding."
The younger man sighed.
"Viktor—"
"No."
Viktor stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.
Not because he wanted privacy.
Because he didn't want anyone else finding Elias first.
The distinction mattered.
At least that's what he told himself.
His gaze swept across the documents.
Maintenance reports.
Safety inspections.
Worker complaints.
Equipment failures.
The kid wasn't browsing.
He was building a case.
The realization tightened something inside Viktor's chest.
"You broke into a restricted records room."
"The door was unlocked."
"That's your defense?"
"It wasn't exactly difficult."
Viktor stared at him.
Sometimes Elias said things that made him question reality.
The younger man seemed completely unaware of how reckless he sounded.
"This isn't a game."
"I know that."
"Do you?"
The question came out sharper than intended.
Elias flinched slightly.
The reaction immediately annoyed Viktor.
Not because of Elias.
Because it made him feel guilty.
And guilt was an emotion he preferred avoiding.
The younger man's jaw tightened.
"I know exactly what I'm doing."
"No, you don't."
"Then explain it to me."
The challenge hung between them.
Viktor exhaled slowly.
His patience was disappearing.
Fast.
"You're asking questions nobody wants answered."
"Maybe they should be answered."
"That's not how this works."
Elias folded his arms.
"That's exactly the problem."
There it was.
The stubbornness.
The determination.
The refusal to let things go.
Part of Viktor admired it.
The rest of him wanted to shake some sense into the kid.
"You think you're uncovering some great conspiracy?"
"I think workers deserve safe conditions."
"They do."
"Then why are these reports hidden?"
Viktor had no answer for that.
At least not one Elias would accept.
Because the truth was complicated.
Messy.
Unfair.
The world rarely rewarded honesty.
It rewarded power.
Money.
Influence.
Richard Hart's company possessed all three.
Workers possessed none.