“They are breaking the lock,” Alexander said, stepping in front of me.

He pulled a compact black pistol from his jacket.

The wood around the latch began to splinter.

I grabbed the folder and the diary, clutching them to my chest.

The flashlight beam from the hallway sliced through the widening gap in the door frame.

The metal latch finally snapped with a loud bang.

The door swung wide open.

A tall figure stepped into the room, holding a heavy iron crowbar.

The light caught the sharp angle of a familiar jawline.

It was Thomas, the night shift security supervisor.

He lowered the crowbar immediately when he saw Alexander’s gun.

“Sir, I apologize,” Thomas gasped, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“The electronic locks on this wing went dead, and we heard movement inside.”

Alexander did not lower his weapon right away.

“Why didn’t you use your radio?” Alexander asked, his voice freezing cold.

“The interference, sir,” Thomas said, pointing to his earpiece. “Static has been blocking the western channels for the last ten minutes.”

I stepped out from behind Alexander, still holding the folder close to my chest.