It hit a metal trash can with a sharp ping.

Toby jumped, dropping his napkin.

“Who’s there?” he yelled, his voice cracking.

He turned toward the sound, moving away from the console and my laptop.

I slipped out from behind Rack Three, moving as silently as I could in my flat shoes.

I reached my laptop.

The screen read: *Upload Complete. Ready for Broadcast.*

Toby turned back around.

His eyes widened as he saw me standing there.

“Clara?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Marcus sent me to check the line,” I said quickly.

“He said the boardroom display was flickering.”

Toby looked at my laptop, then at the blue cable plugged into Rack Four.

“That’s not how you fix a display,” he said, his voice turning suspicious.

He reached for his radio on his belt.

In the boardroom feed on my phone, Marcus was putting the pen to the first signature line.

I looked at Toby.

“Don’t do that, Toby,” I said softly.

My finger hovered over the enter key.

My phone lit up again with a call from an unknown number.