White nevertheless pulled the door handle and was stunned when the door swung open. He examined the locking mechanism. It was a standard commercial electronic lock. It didn’t look like it had been forced open. Inoperative power locks were usually caused by either a wiring or mechanical problem. He glanced behind him at the two CID agents, hoping to let them know he was going inside, but they weren’t looking in his direction.
White stepped inside the foyer and pressed the call button for the elevator. Since he was already inside the building, it wouldn’t take much of his time to check the third floor. Who knew? Maybe if he was lucky there would be a SkyCU employee working late who wouldn’t mind letting him in?
White rode the elevator to the third floor. He stepped off into a darkened corridor. In front of him was a small sign with plenty of space to name all the businesses that occupied that floor. For now, SkyCU Technology seemed to be the only tenant. White found its entrance door in no time. He was about to knock when he noticed that the deadlock had been tampered with, as if someone had used a lock-pick gun to break it.
White pulled his snub-nose .38 revolver from its ankle holster. Then, with his left hand, he turned the knob and gently pushed the door open. The interior was dark, with barely enough light for him to see. He slipped inside the instant there was enough space for him to go through. His right foot immediately hit something, and he almost fell forward. He looked down.
Shit! His feet had bumped into a dead man. White’s heart rate spiked, and he stepped to his left, getting away from the doorframe. His back scratched against something.
The light switch, he thought. He used his left hand to flip it. The light came on. Two more bodies were on the floor. There was no need to check for a pulse to know they were dead. Each of them had been shot in the head, although one of them had also been shot twice center mass.
White rapidly cleared the sleek and modern office, including the large conference room enclosed by three floor-to-ceiling glass panels. Deeper into the office space, there was a solid wood door with an electric lock controlled by a keypad. White guessed this was where the servers were located.
Damn it, he thought. Veronica was right to worry.
White returned to where the bodies lay and holstered his revolver. He took his phone and dialed 911 to report the incident. He identified himself to the dispatcher and also informed her that there were two armed CID agents in a government sedan parked in front of the building. After he hung up, White crouched next to the man he had tripped over and frisked him. He found a SIG Sauer P228 pistol, a smartphone, and a black wallet.
White opened the wallet and did a double take. It contained a military identification card and a CID special agent badge. He then looked at the smartphone.
GIRDNER—4 MISSED CALLS.
What the fuck’s going on?
White swiped up, but a numeric keypad appeared on the screen. The phone was locked. Without thinking, he pocketed the dead agent’s phone. He was about to move to the next body when the door behind opened and Ashby and Folsom appeared, their guns pointed right at him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Palo Alto, California
White slowly raised his hands over his head, his mind racing. Were Ashby and Folsom in on it too? With his .38 snub-nose revolver safely tucked inside his ankle holster, there was no way for him to draw it before being shot dead.
“Step away from them, Clayton, or I swear to God I’ll shoot you in the face,” Ashby said.
White obeyed and took a few steps back. He slowly turned fully toward the two CID agents. They looked sick and distraught, and not sure about what to do next.
“What happened here?” Folsom asked, his eyes bouncing between White and the dead men. “Please tell me you didn’t do this.”
“Listen to me really carefully, guys,” White said, making absolutely sure not to make any sudden movement. It was easy to see that the two CID agents were on the edge. It wouldn’t take much for them to shoot him by mistake. “I found the three of them exactly like this. They were dead when I came in.”
“Do you know who they are? Have you seen them before?” Ashby asked, his pistol still pointed at White’s torso.
“I’ve never seen them before. I have no idea who they are,” he lied.
White almost asked Ashby if he knew them, since they were CID. But he kept his mouth shut.
“Call the police,” Ashby said to Folsom. “Tell them we’re at the—”
“I’ve already called the police,” White said. “And if you pay attention, you’ll hear the sirens.”