Closing the door behind me, I paused to take a breath. This didn't look good for me. And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. As I weighed my options, I walked down the hall toward the hidden door I'd found earlier. Walking always helps me clear the clutter. Absentmindedly, I checked the handle. It wasn't locked anymore. I looked around. The security team at the far end of the hallway was busy talking with someone, so I opened the door and stepped inside a short, dimly-lit hallway. The door eased closed behind me. I knew enough about this place to understand that I needed to check for more hidden doors. I retrieved the flashlight that was clipped to my waist. As I moved through the passageway, I realized that I couldn't hear anything except my own footfalls. For a building as old as this one, I'd expect to hear a few creaks, or pipe moans. Something. The area seemed soundproof. About five feet from the door along the right wall, I found a button about the size of a half dollar. Always the inquisitive one, I pushed it. Nothing happened. Figuring I might have missed another one, I re-examined the wall to my left and located another button. This time, the wall slid to the side, and I was face-to-face with Marissa Rothschild.
"What? Where did you come from?" she asked, staring wide-eyed at me from the opposite side of the table, right where I'd left her.
I stepped inside the prep room and the door slid closed behind me.
"Ms. Rothschild, we have a problem."
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish