Kingdom Come

xii. A burning room

The large gulp of coffee, hot and bitter, brings tears to my eyes. When the sting subsides, I glance at the tall structure of glass and metal towering over my taxi, through the front window. My leg keeps bouncing as I wait for a reply—avoiding the taxi driver's annoyed eyes in the rear-view mirror. I quickly text again:

"What do I do? Do they have access yet?"

The answer comes within a second:

"Tech is standing by. Letterbox got called into a staff meeting. You know, he didn't plan to have to do this today. Give him a minute." 

I would swear that I had no intention to drink in the afternoon, but I have carried my new flask with me. The wait is painful, so I give in and pour some into my coffee. Two large gulps and I can't wait any longer.

"So do I lead them to him? I need to know now. He plans to round them up today which means he's going to start firing the suspects."

"Stall them. Don't direct them towards him until we have the data we need."

"How long?"

"Once they have access, it's a matter of minutes."

I toss my disposable coffee mug into the bin, pop a mint into my mouth, and walk towards the conference room. My heels make sharp clicking sounds against the black marble floors as I walk behind the receptionist, balancing the desired files on one arm.

The receptionist opens the door for me and steps aside. I have to hold back a gasp when I find an AFD politician—elected twice by a Bex county—standing next to Wayne.

"There she is." Wayne grins, coming forward. I hold out the files and his fingers curve over mine, gently brushing against them as he takes the files from me. "Nigel, this is London from the Reverent."

"It's great to meet you!" Nigel extends his hand. "I'm Nigel—"

"I know who you are," I quickly reply, mirroring his smile. "You're running again, I believe? I haven't had time to check the full list of candidates after the nominations closed."

"Ah! Long weekend? I heard the party was a riot." He laughs. "You're right. I am running again. I have to thank you for helping us out. I can't imagine how busy you must be. Campaigning has begun, and we just couldn't afford a scandal, you know?"

"Exactly," Wayne agrees. "Kevin should be reaching now. Come, let's sit."

He pulls out the chair to the right of the head of the table and gestures for me to sit down. I'm right opposite Nigel.

Once Wayne is settled in his own seat—at the head—a well-built young man enters the room, carrying a slim device. He offers me a pleasant smile and introduces himself as Wayne's junior at Public Affairs—"Kevin."

In a flash, Kevin has transformed one of the walls of the conference room into a screen. A large list of alphabetically ordered employee portfolios fades in. He clicks on a specific folder, secured with a four-digit passcode, and it reveals less than twenty files.

Wayne is not paying attention to the screen. He flips through my files, pausing every other second to read my scribbled notes. Once he's done with a file, he passes it on to Nigel, who doesn't care to even skim through it.

"My team narrowed it down to these," Kevin speaks up, looking directly at me. 'Them,' I feel like correcting him. "We have about eight employees in common with your list."