Darius knew it the way the building itself knew it. He took Victoria's hand. She didn't pull back and began moving them up silently quickly to the 16th floor door. He pulled it open by the handle an inch 2 in listening. The corridor beyond was empty.
He pulled it open further and they stepped through together. The door settled closed behind them without a sound. Below them, the footsteps continued upward. The security dispatch office on floor 16 was at the end of a short hallway. Behind a door marked authorized personnel, only in the kind of font that suggested the sign had been there long enough to fade at the edges.
Darius had his ring of service keys out before they reached it. The third key he tried turned the lock. Inside, the room smelled like old electronics and the particular dusty warmth of equipment that's been running uninterrupted for decades. A wall of security monitors showed varying levels of darkness from cameras across the building. Some completely black, some showing the dim glow of emergency lighting, a desk, a chair, and in the corner mounted on the wall with its handset still in its cradle, a telephone that had been installed when Ronald Reagan was president and had almost certainly never been disconnected.
Victoria crossed to it in three steps and lifted the handset. She held it for one second. Then she exhaled the first uncontrolled sound she had made since they'd gotten out of the elevator. "Dial tone," she dialed 911. The dispatcher answered on the second ring.
"I need to report an emergency," Victoria said, and her voice was steady, was controlled, was every bit voice that sits of a person accustomed to being in charge. I am Victoria Hayes, CEO of Hayes Global Logistics, located at 4,400 Commerce Avenue downtown. I am in the building with one other person. We believe we are in danger. Someone has deliberately disabled the building's power backup systems and communications.
She paused and listened. Yes. Yes, I'll stay on the line. She turned and looked at Darius. And for one long moment in the faint blue light of the security monitors, she just looked at him.
They're sending units, she said. They'll be here within 15 minutes. He nodded. 15 minutes, he said. Okay.
He crossed to the door and turned the manual lock from the inside. Check the hinges solid. Inward swinging would require real force to break through. He checked the single window. Small wire reinforced glass.
Floor 16. No access from outside. He checked the ventilation panel in the ceiling, too small for a person. He came back and stood beside the door and put his tool bag down at his feet. Victoria watched him do all of this without saying anything.