The air smelled of antiseptic and floor wax.

“The service elevator,” Liam said, his voice barely a breath.

He led the way, his steps quick and silent in his rubber-soled hospital shoes.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

I clutched the leather bag containing the hard drive.

We turned a sharp corner, passing a metal linen cart left in the hallway.

Behind us, the heavy wood door of the room we had just left flew open with a dull thud.

Heavy boot steps echoed on the linoleum.

“In here,” Liam muttered, shoving open a grey double door marked *Staff Only*.

We stepped into a narrow, concrete-walled hallway.

The service elevator sat at the far end, its industrial steel doors closed.

Liam hit the down button three times, his thumb pressing hard against the plastic.

“Come on,” he muttered, looking back at the door we had just entered.

A shadow crossed the frosted glass of the double doors.

The elevator dinged, the sound incredibly loud in the narrow passage.

The heavy steel doors slid open with a slow, grinding screech.

We scrambled inside.