Physical at home. She exhaled through her nose. The faintest sound of relief. Bring it Thursday, she said. Don't carry it in your bag.
Keep it in your person. He looked at her. You think they'd go through my things. I think we don't know what they're willing to do yet, she said quietly. And I'd rather not find out the hard way.
That landed differently than she probably intended it to, or maybe exactly as she intended it. Either way, Marcus felt the weight of it settle across his shoulders like a coat he hadn't agreed to wear, but was now wearing. He was in it all the way in. Past the point where staying quiet was an option. Past the point where he could hand this back and walk away clean.
He'd handed her the thread Friday morning and she'd pulled it. And now what was attached to the other end was neither of their choices to put down. Okay, he said Thursday. He found Paul Reyes at 250. Caught him in the corridor outside the finance suite and said very quietly.
I need 5 minutes and a pen. Paul looked at him with the expression of a man who has had a bad morning and just learned the afternoon was going to match it. He nodded. They went into an empty conference room, small one on 12, used mostly for vendor calls and the occasional difficult HR conversation, and Marcus explained what he needed. Paul listened.
His jaw got tighter with each sentence. A signed statement, Paul repeated like legally, just documenting what you observed, when you observed it, what files were affected, and what the discrepancy was. Your name, your title, the date, three paragraphs. You don't need a lawyer for that. Do I need a lawyer for this?
Paul said, and the question was genuine, nervous, the question of a 28-year-old who had come to work that morning expecting a normal Tuesday and had gotten something else entirely. You're documenting something you saw, Marcus said. That's not exposure. That's integrity. Paul looked at him for a long moment.
Is this going to cost me my job? He asked. And Marcus thought about Dana Reyes. Different Reyes. No relation moved to a satellite office in 4 months for telling the truth too soon, too publicly without anyone to carry it for her.
Not if I have anything to say about it," Marcus said. "And I intend to have something to say about it." Paul nodded slowly, then more firmly. The way young men nod when they've decided to be braver than they thought they were. He wrote the statement in longhand, three careful paragraphs, signed it, dated it. Marcus walked it to Priya Anan's office himself and handed it to Priya directly.