Chapter 11

It was a sunny day at the office, calm and bright, and everyone was busy with last-minute preparations for the official campaign launch. Laughter floated across the rooms, phones buzzed incessantly, papers shuffled from desk to desk, and the scent of coffee lingered with the faint tang of printer toner. Staff moved like clockwork, juggling tasks, making sure nothing slipped through the cracks before the big event.

Alfred sat behind his desk, legs crossed, a half-empty cup of coffee sweating on the leather blotter. He skimmed over the morning’s briefings but only half-focused, listening more than reading. Across from him, Theo leaned forward, notebook open, pen scratching notes as he outlined the new media plan. Every point was precise. press coverage, social engagement, scheduling, hashtags, social posts timed down to the minute. Alfred nodded occasionally, asking the kind of small questions that made Theo straighten, scribble faster, and clarify himself in tighter, sharper sentences.

“You’ve got a good head, Theo,” Alfred said, tapping the side of his coffee cup. “If I had ten more like you, I’d already be president.”

Theo’s grin was easy “Just doing my job, sir.”

Alfred chuckled, leaning back, about to add another quip. Then Footsteps echoed from the lobby through the hallways outside his office. Voices overlapped. Theo paused mid-note, pen hovering. Then the door burst open.

Two men in plain suits moved in, badges flashing before anyone could react. The taller one spoke first, authoritative, no hesitation. “Mr. Cole, we’re from the IRS Criminal Division. We have a warrant to search the premises.”

Theo froze. The coffee in Alfred’s hand stopped halfway to his lips. Alfred stood slowly, lips pressed tight. “What the hell is this?” he demanded.

“Tax evasion inquiry,” the agent replied, moving toward the filing cabinets without waiting for a response. “We’ll need access to all campaign financial records, personal and business accounts, and digital data.”

The office erupted. Phones were lifted to ears, whispers ricocheted from one cubicle to the next, some staff trying to intervene, others frozen, unsure how to react. Drawers were opened, computers tagged with evidence labels, cabinets pulled apart. Theo stepped back, caught between instinct and protocol, unsure if he should intervene or stay put.

Alfred moved into the main floor, voice firm, authoritative. “Everyone calm down. Cooperate. Nobody says a word to the press, do you hear me?” His tone left no room for argument.

Theo’s eyes followed him, scanning Alfred’s face for a sign of the usual calm. There was none. His jaw was set, eyes sharp, and something cold flickered beneath the surface something that hinted at anger, calculation, and a sense of being challenged.

The agent at his side spoke quietly into a radio. “We’ll be taking copies of all documents from the past five years.”

“Five years?” Alfred’s voice cut through the office. “That’s absurd. This is a campaign office, not some criminal den. I need to speak to your superior now!”

The agent ignored him, moving toward the cabinets, calling for boxes and digital storage devices. Theo caught sight of Clara near the reception desk, her hand pressed to her phone as she whispered urgently. The finance team was already being corralled by another agent, answering questions under tense scrutiny.

Staff moved quickly all looking tense . Some tried to organize scattered documents, others simply watched. A junior assistant trembled as he followed an agent’s instruction to hand over his laptop. Someone muttered under her breath, calling a colleague to confirm what was happening, but even her voice was swallowed by the low hum of chaos. Theo felt the tension in his chest tighten, the air seeming heavier, but he didn’t dare show it.

Alfred’s campaign manager Lawson approached him cautiously. “Sir… should we call the press before they spin it?”

Alfred’s reply was flat. “Don’t. Not yet.” He paused, scanning the room. “Focus on what we can control. Everything else stays in this office until I say otherwise.”

He returned to his desk, eyes flicking to Theo. “You lock up everything else. I want nothing leaving this building unless I say so.”

Theo nodded, moving quickly. His hands shook slightly as he went from desk to desk, securing laptops, locking drawers, checking files for anything that might be vulnerable. Staff cast him curious, anxious glances. Everyone felt the tension, the implicit knowledge that the order to control information had shifted from routine to critical.

Hours passed. The agents eventually left, taking boxes, photocopies, and drives with them. When the last one closed the door behind him, the office sank into a strange, heavy silence. The only sound was the low buzz of fluorescent lights overhead and the faint tapping of keys from staff who had returned to their work, trying to reclaim normalcy. But it was a fragile normalcy, weighted with unspoken questions.

Reporters were already gathering outside, cameras trained on the building. Alfred sat behind his desk, hands pressing against his face. His lawyer leaned close, speaking in low tones. “Someone tipped them off. This didn’t come from nowhere.”

Alfred lifted his head slowly, eyes scanning the office. Cabinets still gaped open. Files lay scattered across the floor. Laptops sat with tags and evidence stickers. Staff moved cautiously, aware of the breach, conscious that nothing in this office was private anymore.

Theo observed, careful not to intrude, but he couldn’t look away. Alfred’s expression was unreadable, but there was a clarity beneath the surface calculation, recognition, the first faint stirrings of strategy. The man wasn’t panicking; he was measuring, remembering, planning.

Alfred finally rose, moving to the front of the office. “Everyone listen,” he said, voice sharp enough to cut through lingering murmurs. “We continue as planned. Questions from the press? Do not answer. You focus on your work. That is all.”

He walked past desks, glancing at each staff member, noting reactions and movements. Some flinched under his gaze others straightened instinctively. Theo followed, absorbing the scene subtle tension, quiet panic, loyalty and fear intertwined. Alfred’s presence alone restored some order, not through charm, but sheer control of the room’s energy.

Returning to his office, Alfred shut the door with a sharp click. He sank into his chair, hands drumming lightly against the blotter. Theo remained at the doorway, silent, eyes moving across the office, cataloging details and people.

Alfred’s voice broke the quiet. “Their warrant five years of documents. Someone knew exactly what to ask for, what to take. That means… someone close. Someone who wants to hurt me.”

Theo swallowed, nodding. The possibilities ran through his mind staff, consultants, rivals, outsiders. Anyone with access could have orchestrated this. Alfred’s gaze swept the office again, sharp, calculating, weighing. There was no panic. There was readiness.

Alfred leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing, lips pressed thin. The room was quiet, functional, but heavy. He tapped the desk once, decisively, and glanced at Theo. “Prepare statements for the press. Control the narrative. Every question, every interaction, every leak we handle it first.”

Theo nodded, mind racing. The gears were turning, strategies forming. Alfred had already mapped the battlefield in his head. And somewhere deep in his mind, Theo realized the office and the campaign would never be the same again.

Politicians always had enemies and one of his enemies must have been after him, he thought to himself. But could not quite figure out who was behind it.