Chapter 3: The Fortress

Thorne Corp headquarters was not merely a skyscraper; it was an ivory tower built of polished glass and reinforced concrete, piercing the city skyline like a spear. It stood as a tangible monument to global technology dominance. Stepping inside felt less like entering an office building and more like crossing the border into a hostile, impossibly wealthy nation.

I arrived precisely at 08:45 for the 09:00 interview. Punctuality wasn't a sign of respect; it was a baseline of control.

The lobby alone was a marvel of security design. The floor was embedded with fiber optics, subtly tracking movement. The receptionists weren't just administrative staff; their earpieces indicated immediate security connection, and their desks incorporated advanced facial recognition scanners masquerading as decorative panels. Every layer screamed: We trust no one.

I presented my credentials—the highly vetted, digitally immaculate Elias Vance profile. The security guard, a man whose eyes were constantly sweeping the surroundings, ran the badge through a scanner. The delay was imperceptible to a civilian, but to me, it was a moment of agonizing vulnerability. If The Syndicate’s fabrication failed here, the mission was over, and my life was forfeit.

“Welcome, Mr. Vance,” the guard said, the moment the light turned green. “Dr. Sharma is expecting you on the fifty-fifth floor.”

I was assigned a temporary visitor badge and ushered into an express elevator. As it ascended, the outside world shrank beneath me. The interior of the elevator was silent, the walls matte black. I closed my eyes for a single moment, running a final check on the three micro-transmitters I had taped beneath my suit’s lapel. They were secure.

Dr. Anya Sharma met me at the elevator bank. She was the Head of R&D and Julian Thorne’s most trusted advisor, the person who had reluctantly agreed to interview the "expensive, elusive consultant." She had sharp, intelligent eyes that missed nothing, and her posture was one of cautious skepticism.

“Mr. Vance,” she greeted me, offering a quick, cool handshake. “I appreciate you making time. As you know, our need is… urgent.”

“I only take urgent cases, Doctor,” I replied, my voice measured. “I understand Thorne Corp is reeling from the loss of your previous head of defense. I assure you, my focus is immediate remediation, not a drawn-out assessment.”

We walked through the executive floor. The design shifted from stark security to understated luxury: dark wood, custom lighting, and original artwork. It was designed to relax the occupants, lulling them into a false sense of peace. My senses, however, were on high alert. I was mapping every camera, every access panel, every potential choke point.

The interview was less of a job discussion and more of an intellectual duel. Dr. Sharma was brilliant, grilling me on hypothetical scenarios—state-sponsored attacks, zero-day exploits, corporate espionage. I answered with cold, precise efficiency, not giving them answers, but giving them the solution to their fear.

“Your f*e, Mr. Vance, is… unprecedented,” she finally admitted, leaning back in her chair.

“My guarantee is also unprecedented, Doctor. I don’t manage a crisis; I end it. The cost reflects the certainty of the outcome. If you are comfortable with continued vulnerability, my services are not required.”

Anya studied me for a long moment, a flicker of something unreadable—relief mixed with continued suspicion—crossing her face.

“Very well. We need a final decision from the CEO. He will be down shortly to give you the final sign-off, or… dismissal.” She checked her watch. “In the meantime, our primary concern is the Echo Project’s server farm. It has its own dedicated, air-gapped network. We need a rapid, top-to-bottom security audit on the physical access protocols, beginning today.”

Physical access protocols. It was the perfect entry point. It meant immediate, necessary access to the most secure zone of the building. The Syndicate’s luck—or manipulation—was holding.

“Excellent,” I said. “I can start immediately. I’ll need a Level 5 access badge and a schematic of the server room’s ingress and egress points.”

Anya nodded and left to process the paperwork. I remained alone in the sterile, high-ceilinged conference room. I rose and walked to the panoramic window. The city stretched out below, a tapestry of miniature lights and distant sounds. I was no longer a shadow; I was inside the walls, poised to strike.

My eyes scanned the floor above us. The sixty-third floor. Julian Thorne's private domain. As I watched, a dark silhouette moved across the glass of a towering office. He was a distant figure, a man carrying the weight of the company and his legacy on his broad shoulders.

I took out my laptop, ostensibly to review the initial contract, but my fingers quickly went to work on the data stick. Time for the first, silent move. I didn't need to plug it in yet, but I needed to prep the internal script. The first phase of exploitation was about to begin, and I felt the familiar, cold satisfaction of the predator closing in on its prey. Julian Thorne was a minute away from walking through that door, and I needed to ensure I was ready to face him, not as a desperate mercenary, but as the solution to all his problems.