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Tom

WE’RE ALMOST to the elevator when I realize I didn’t completely shut the Director’s door. The elevator is taking its sweet time coming up for us. It’s almost at our floor when the security guard sees the Director’s door, then glances back at us. He hesitates as if questioning his instincts. Two janitors, he’s never seen before, on a secure floor, and we only cleaned one office before leaving. He’s putting the pieces together. I see the moment we’re made.

“Hey,” the guy turns, drawing his gun at the same time. “Stop right there.” Wide-eyed, Jasmine raises her hands.

“Something wrong, man?” I ask, feigning surprise. He wouldn’t have a gun on us if he didn’t suspect something.

“Stay there,” he orders. “I’m going to check something.” Gun still trained on

us, he pulls out a walkie-talkie. I can’t let him call this in.

I

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