I shined my small flashlight on the desk.

There was a brass cup filled with pens.

At the bottom lay a small silver flash drive with a red label.

Ethan grabbed it, his fingers brushing against mine.

“Let’s go,” he whispered.

We ran back to the elevator and pressed the button.

The arrow indicator was slow to light up.

“Come on,” Ethan muttered, tapping his foot against the tile.

The elevator arrived with a soft chime, and we descended to the lobby.

Arthur was waiting, his face pale as he watched his screens.

“The system is resetting in thirty seconds,” Arthur said, his voice trembling.

Ethan handed him the flash drive.

Arthur plugged it into his terminal and entered a code.

A small metal drawer beneath the desk clicked open.

Inside was a single, thick manila envelope sealed with red wax.

It was labeled *Whitmore – C. – Restricted.*

Arthur pulled it out and handed it to Ethan.

“Get out of here,” Arthur said.

“Now.”

We hurried out the door and back into the freezing alley.

The snow was falling heavier now, obscuring the streetlights and the tall buildings.