A soft, red light began to glow on the wall.

It was the emergency backup system, casting long, bloody shadows across the room.

Then, the electronic lock on the main door clicked.

The heavy wood door began to swing open, very slowly.

I backed away from the desk, my heels pressing into the thick carpet.

The silhouette of a man stepped through the doorway.

He held a suppressed pistol, its barrel catching the red glow of the emergency strip.

I slid behind the heavy mahogany bookshelf, holding my breath.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

He took two steps into the room, his boots silent on the rug.

He didn’t look toward my hiding spot; his focus was on the desk where the papers lay.

I realized I had left the decrypted notes right there on the blotter.

If he saw them, he would know the leak was compromised.

A floorboard creaked in the hallway behind him.

“Clear,” a low voice whispered from the corridor.

The man in my room turned his head toward the sound.