“W-What for?”

“I’m sorry – I’m from Para-Protect – we’re just trying to figure out if we need to increase security in the welcoming area.”

It’s a clean answer with a clean explanation, but last I checked, we weren’t having security issues.

“And your name?” he reiterates, keeping the tone friendly.

“Oliver Caruso,” I offer.

He looks up – not startled – but just fast enough that I notice. He grins. I grin. Everybody’s happy. Too bad I’m ready to pass out.

On the clipboard, he puts a small check next to my name. There’s no check next to Charlie’s. Not here yet. As the blond man leans against his clipboard, his jacket slides open and I get a quick peek at his leather shoulder-strap. This guy’s carrying a gun. Behind me, I take one last glance at the unmarked cars. Security company, my ass. We’re in trouble.

“Thank you, Mr. Caruso – you have a nice day now.”

“You too,” I say, forcing a smile. The only good sign is that he lets me pass. They don’t know who they’re looking for. But they are looking. They just don’t want anyone to know.

That’s it, I decide. Time to get some help. Blowing through the lobby and past the bullpen of rolltop desks, I head for the public elevator, but quickly change course and keep walking toward the back. I use Lapidus’s code every day. Don’t call attention to it by stopping now.

By the time I reach the private elevator, I’m a sweaty mess – my chest, my back – I feel like I’m soaking through my suit and wool coat. From there, it only gets worse. Stepping into the elevator’s wood-paneled embrace, I go to loosen my tie. That’s when I remember the surveillance camera in the corner. My fingers bounce off my tie and scratch an imaginary itch on my neck. The doors slam shut. My throat goes dry. I just ignore it.

My first instinct is to go see Shep, but it’s no time to be stupid. Instead, I pound the button for the seventh floor. If I want to get to the bottom of this, I need to start at the top.

“He’s been waiting for you,” Lapidus’s secretary warns as I fly past her desk.

“How many stars?” I call out, knowing how she rates Lapidus’s moods. Four stars is good; one is a disaster.

“Total eclipse,” she blurts.

I stop in my tracks. The last time Lapidus was that upset, it came with divorce papers. “Any idea what happened?” I ask, struggling to keep it together.

“I’m not sure, but have you ever seen a live volcano…?”

Taking a quick gulp of air, I reach for the bronze doorknob.

“… I don’t care what they want!” Lapidus screams into his phone. “Tell them it’s a computer problem… blame it on a virus – until they hear otherwise, it’s staying shut down – and if Mary has a problem with that, tell her she can take it up with the agent in charge!” He slams the receiver just as I shut the door. Following the sound, he jerks his head toward me – but I’m too busy staring at the person sitting in the antique chair on the opposite side of his desk. Shep. He shakes his head ever so slightly. We’re dead.

“Where the hell’ve you been!?” Lapidus yells.

My eyes are still on Shep.

“Oliver, I’m talking to you!”

I jump, turning back to my boss. “I-I’m sorry. What?”

Before I can answer, there’s a knock on the door behind me. “Come in!” Lapidus barks.

Quincy opens it halfway and sticks his head in. He’s got the same look as Lapidus. Gritted teeth. Manic head movements. The way he surveys the room – me… Shep… the couch… even the antiques – everything gets a look. Sure, he’s a born analyzer, but this is different. The pale look on his face. It’s not anger. It’s fear.

“I have the reports,” he says anxiously.

“So? Let’s hear ’em,” Lapidus says.

Standing on the threshold and still refusing to enter the room, Quincy tightens his glance. Partners only.

With a swift push away from the desk, Lapidus climbs out of his leather wingback and heads for the door. The moment he’s gone, I go straight for Shep.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask, fighting to keep it to a whisper. “Did they-”

“Was this you?” Shep shoots back.

“Was what me?”

He looks away, completely overwhelmed. “I don’t even know how they did it…”

“Did what?”

“They set us up, Oliver. Whoever took it, they were watching the entire time…”

I grab him by the shoulder. “Dammit, Shep, tell me w-”

The door swings wide and Lapidus storms back in the room. “Shep – your friend Agent Gallo’s waiting in the conference room – do you want to-?”

“Yeah,” Shep interrupts, leaping from his seat.

I shoot him a sideways glance. You called in the Service?

Don’t ask, he motions, shaking his head.

“Oliver, I need you to do me a favor,” Lapidus adds, his voice on fire. He flips through a stack of papers, looking for…

“There,” I say, pointing to his reading glasses.

He snatches them and stuffs them in his jacket pocket. No time for thank-yous. “I want someone downstairs as people start coming in,” he says. “No offense to the Service, but they don’t know our staff.”

“I don’t underst-”

“Stay by the door and watch reactions,” he barks, his patience long gone. “I know we’ve got an agent taking attendance… but whoever did this… they’re too smart to call in sick. That’s why I want you to keep an eye on people when they walk in. If they’ve got a guilty conscience, the agent alone’ll freak them out… you can’t hide panic. Even if it’s just a pause or an open mouth. You know the people, Oliver. Find out who did it for me.” He puts an arm on my shoulder and rushes me toward the door. Lapidus and Shep march off to the conference room. Searching for options, I head downstairs. I just need a second to think.

By the time the elevator doors open in the lobby, I’m completely exhausted. The hurricane’s hit too fast. Everything’s spinning. Still, there’s not much of a choice. Follow orders. Anything else is suspicious.

Sliding up to the teller booth that runs along the righthand wall, I grab a deposit slip and pretend to fill it out. It’s the best way to watch the door, where the agent with the blond hair is still checking people off.

One by one they walk in and give their names. Not a single one of them pauses or thinks twice about it. I’m not surprised – the only one with the guilty conscience is me. But the more I sit there, the more the whole thing doesn’t make sense. Sure, for me and Charlie, three million is a solid hunk of change, but around here… it’s not a life-changer. And the way Shep asked me about it – about whether it was me – he wasn’t just worried about being caught… he lost something too. And now that I finally stop to think about it… maybe… so did we.

Searching the always bustling front lobby, I check to see if anyone’s watching. Secretaries, analysts, even the agent in charge – everyone’s caught up in their day-to-day. The crowd comes in the revolving door and their names are checked off. I glide toward the same door, figuring it’s my best way out-

“Have you signed in?” the agent with blond hair snaps.

“Y-Yeah,” I say as the co-workers in line stare me down. “Oliver Caruso.”

He checks his list, then looks up. “Go ahead.”

I plow forward shoulder-first and push the door as hard as I can. As it gives, I’m thrown out on the frozen street, skidding full speed around the corner.

Racing up Park Avenue, I look around for a newsstand. I should know better. This neighborhood doesn’t exactly attract the crowd who buys off the street. Except for payphones, the corners are empty. Ignoring the pain of running in dress shoes, I make a sharp left on 37th and take off toward the end of the block. The concrete’s making me feel every step. The moment I hit Madison Avenue, I slam on the brakes and slide up to an outdoor newsstand.

“Do you have phone cards?” I ask the unshaven guy who’s warming himself on a space heater behind the counter.