I looked at the server room security camera above us.

“The police are already downstairs, Arthur,” I said. “If you touch me again, it’s kidnapping on top of conspiracy.”

He paused, his eyes darting to the flashing red light on the camera dome.

Outside in the corridor, the high-pitched wail of the building’s emergency sirens began to sound.

It wasn’t a fire alarm.

It was the security lockdown alarm, triggered by the federal agents overriding the main lobby gates.

Arthur stepped back, his hand falling to his side.

He looked at the crushed phone on the floor, then at me.

“This isn’t over,” he said.

He turned and walked quickly out of the room, leaving the door swinging behind him.

I stood in the silence of the server room, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The hum of the servers seemed louder now, a steady, mechanical vibration in the soles of my shoes.

I picked up my laptop, disconnected the blue cable, and tucked the machine under my arm.

I walked out of the server room and into the quiet, carpeted hallway of the executive floor.