Chapter 9 - The Boardroom Conspiracy
The steel shutter lifted just high enough for Marcus to duck underneath, emerging back into the main corridor of the B-3 archive level. Agent Vance stood waiting, her hand hovering inches from her holster, while Agent Cooper flanked her with a heavy plastic evidence bag ready in his grip. The water from the overhead sprinklers continued to drip in a steady, rhythmic cadence, soaking the shoulders of Marcus’s navy suit.
"Hand over the flash drive, Mr. Vance," Agent Vance demanded, stepping forward with absolute authority. "Your bluff about the dead-man’s switch might buy you a few minutes in a boardroom, but it won't hold up under a federal magistrate's review."
Marcus didn't hesitate. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the flash drive, and dropped it directly into the open evidence bag held by Agent Cooper.
"I have nothing to hide, Agent Vance," Marcus said, his voice entirely composed. "That drive contains proof that my signature was forged, and it contains the video file proving that Julian Brooks and Arthur Pendelton conspired to frame me for a crime I spent my entire career fighting to prevent."
Agent Cooper zipped the evidence bag shut with a sharp plastic snap and handed it to his superior. Agent Vance raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the performance.
"If that video exists, Mr. Vance, our forensic techs will find it during the decryption process," Agent Vance replied coolly. "Until then, you are still under a federal preservation order. You are restricted to your primary residence, your passport is flagged, and you are prohibited from contacting any board members, employees, or associates of Vance Enterprises."
"Understood," Marcus said, offering a single, sharp nod.
He turned and walked toward the private elevator bank, his polished leather shoes leaving wet prints on the concrete floor. The elevator doors slid open instantly, as if programmed to expel him from the subterranean depths as quickly as possible. He stepped inside, pressed the button for the ground floor, and watched the mirrored doors close, cutting off the sight of the federal agents.
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When the elevator chimed and opened onto the ground-floor lobby, the scene had changed entirely. The morning rush hour had given way to a tense, expectant midday quiet. The reception desk was empty, and the glass revolving doors were locked from the outside with heavy chains. Standing just beyond the glass in the bright sunlight was Julian Brooks—no longer looking panicked or disheveled, but wearing a sharp, tailored black overcoat and holding a sleek new smartphone pressed against his ear. Julian looked directly through the glass at Marcus, offering a slow, deliberate, mocking smile before turning on his heel and walking away down the sunlit avenue.
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