Chapter 11 - The Confrontation in the Sub-Basement
Daniel instinctively stepped back, his hand brushing against the metal edge of the filing cabinet. He knew Julian Croft by reputation: a former military intelligence operative with a history of rough-handling corporate whistleblowers and silencing anyone who asked the wrong questions in the lower tiers of Manhattan skyscrapers.
"Croft," Daniel said, keeping his voice steady despite the adrenaline hammering against his ribs. "I thought you were in Europe."
"People say a lot of things when they're running away with a severance package," Croft replied, taking another slow step forward. His eyes flicked down to the briefcase resting on the metal desk. "And people find things they shouldn't when they start digging through old archives that were supposed to have been shredded months ago."
"Those files prove Vance was planning Victoria's takeover long before she got sick," Daniel said, his fingers curling around the handle of his heavy metal flashlight inside his pocket. "It wasn't just embezzlement. It was premeditated."
Croft let out a cold, humorless chuckle. "Vance was a coward. He wanted money; he didn't have the stomach for the heavy lifting. But me? I was just following operational protocols approved by the managing board." He stopped ten feet away, his expression hardening into a threat. "Now, hand over the folder, Mercer. And we can pretend you never stayed late tonight."
Daniel didn't move. Instead, he gripped the flashlight, his mind racing. He was a maintenance engineer, not a street fighter, but he had spent six years learning every dark corner, blind spot, and escape route in this building.
"I don't think so, Julian," Daniel said calmly. "The federal prosecutors are already reviewing Vance's files. Adding conspiracy to commit medical sabotage to your resume isn't going to look great in front of a federal judge."
Croft's eyes narrowed. "Then I guess it’s a good thing nobody knows you're down here."
With a sudden, explosive burst of speed, Croft lunged forward, his hand reaching out to grab Daniel by the collar.
Instead of freezing, Daniel ducked low, grabbing a heavy metal bucket filled with maintenance solvent and kicking it directly into Croft’s path. The solvent sloshed across the smooth concrete floor. Croft’s polished leather shoe hit the slick puddle, his legs flying out from under him with a sharp crash as he slammed hard against the metal shelving unit.
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Files rained down in a massive paper avalanche. Croft groaned, clutching his shoulder.
Without waiting to see if his attacker recovered, Daniel grabbed his briefcase, turned on his heel, and sprinted down the narrow maintenance corridor toward the emergency service stairwell.
