We ran through the lobby toward the private elevators.

The elevator doors were held open by a brass luggage cart.

Someone had disabled the keycard sensor.

We stepped inside, and the elevator began its quiet ascent to the penthouse.

My hands were cold as I clutched my coat.

The elevator bell chimed as we reached the top floor.

The doors slid open to reveal the dark foyer of the penthouse.

The silence inside was heavy and absolute.

A single light was burning in the study at the end of the hall.

We walked softly across the Persian rug.

The door to the study was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open.

The room was in disarray.

Books had been pulled from the shelves, scattered across the mahogany floor.

The secret panel behind the bookcase was wide open, exposing the steel safe.

The safe door hung open, completely empty.

On the desk, a laptop was still open, its screen glowing blue.

Beside the laptop lay a single black leather glove.

“Marta?” I called out, my voice shaking.

There was no answer.

I walked toward the desk and looked at the laptop screen.