Chapter 9 - The Midnight Break-In
By two o'clock in the morning, the laughter had finally died down.
The blizzard had intensified, roaring against the mountain like a freight train, rattling the heavy timber rafters of the lodge. The guests, exhausted from hours of drinking, rich food, and the intoxicating illusion of high-altitude luxury, had retired to the four appointed suites on the east wing. Evelyn had retreated to the junior suite on the main level, leaving the great hall bathed in the low, dying amber glow of the fireplace embers.
I sat in the dark interior of the library, looking at the glowing display of my tablet.
On screen, camera four—the wide-angle infrared lens concealed inside the crown molding of my second-floor office hallway—flickered to life.
A shadow separated itself from the darkness at the top of the stairs.
It was Jason.
He was creeping along the carpet in his stocking feet, holding his smartphone in his left hand to illuminate the floor. In his right hand, the brass skeleton key glinted in the pale light of his phone screen. He kept pausing, craning his neck, listening for any sign of movement from the rooms down the hall.
He reached my office door. Seeing it slightly ajar, he let out a visible sigh of relief. He didn't even need the key.
He slipped inside and closed the door behind him with agonizing care, pushing the deadbolt into place.
I switched the tablet feed to the internal camera mounted inside the hollowed-out spine of an architectural reference book on my desk shelf. The infrared night vision gave Jason's face an eerie, skeletal appearance. He looked frantic, like a feral dog searching through a dumpster for scraps.
He hurried behind my desk, pulling open drawers, flipping through hanging folders, knocking over a cup of pens in his haste. He was muttering to himself, his lips moving rapidly.
"Where is it? Where the hell did she put the parcel documentation?" he whispered into the empty room.
He pulled his phone to his ear. After two rings, someone answered. I had the office microphone gain turned up to maximum, and Olivia’s sharp, anxious voice came through clearly over the receiver:
*"Did you get in?"*
"Yeah, I’m in," Jason whispered hoarsely, tearing through another stack of printer paper. "The door wasn't even locked. But I can't find the legal packet! There’s nothing here but utility bills and architectural blueprints!"
*"Look in the closet! Or behind the desk! Jason, the equity platform closes the submission window at 3:00 AM! If we don't upload the deed scan and the signed lien affidavit before that automated portal locks down, the lender calls the note on the Denver development tomorrow at noon! We will be personally liable for four million dollars!"*
"I’m looking, Olivia! Jesus, don't you think I know what's at stake?!" Jason hissed, his voice cracking with hysteria. "Your mother swore the documents were in the office!"
*"Keep looking! Becca’s fast asleep in the library wing. She took two melatonin before bed, Mom saw her. Just tear the place apart if you have to!"*
"Wait," Jason gasped. He stopped, his eyes landing on the heavy oil painting behind the desk. He noticed the slight unevenness where the frame rested against the molding.
He reached out, shoved the painting aside, and saw the digital faceplate of the wall safe.
"There’s a safe," he whispered frantically. "Biometric. Thumbprint lock."
*"Can you bypass it?"*
"Are you insane?! It’s a commercial-grade vault! I’d need dynamite or Becca’s severed thumb to open this thing!"
*"Then find the secondary deed copy! She has to have a digital copy on her laptop!"*
Jason dropped into my executive leather chair and grabbed my laptop. He opened the screen, only to find the login prompt demanding a complex alphanumeric password.
He hit the keys frantically. *V-A-N-C-E-1-2-3.* Error. *B-E-C-C-A-2-0-2-4.* Error.
"It’s locked out!" he cried, slamming his fists on the desk. "Olivia, we’re dead. It’s over. We’re going to lose everything."
I watched him on the screen for another five seconds, watching the coward who had been so eager to strip me of my life’s work crumble under the weight of his own incompetence.
"That's enough," I whispered to myself.
I tapped the screen of my tablet.
First, I engaged the central commercial security protocol.
Upstairs in the office, the heavy magnetic industrial deadbolt on the exterior of the door slammed shut with a deafening *CLANG* that sounded like a prison cell slamming closed.
Simultaneously, the smart lighting system kicked into full overdrive. The office exploded into a blinding flood of ultra-bright daylight LED glare.
Jason jumped out of the chair as if he had been struck by lightning, dropping his phone to the floor. The screen cracked with a sharp snap.
*"Jason?! What was that noise?!"* Olivia screamed from the phone on the carpet.
Before Jason could answer, the lodge's high-decibel fire and security siren tore through the quiet night. The piercing, rhythmic wail—*WHOOP, WHOOP, WHOOP*—vibrated through the walls, through the floorboards, through the very timber of the building.
The entire lodge awoke in an instant.
Doors began slamming open in the east wing. Screams of confusion and panicked voices echoed down the grand corridors.
Jason rushed to the office door, grabbing the brass knob, rattling it with all his strength.
"Open the door! Let me out! HEY! OPEN THE DOOR!" he screamed, beating his bloody fists against the solid walnut slab.
May you like
The door didn't budge an inch.
Downstairs in the dark library, I stood up, slipped my tablet into my pocket, and smoothed the creases of my clothes. It was time to pull the curtain on the show.
