Elisabeth Rees - Lethal Exposure

Jack watched Simon striding confidently away, displaying an air of authority that let everybody in the newsroom know who was in charge. Despite being only a little more than five feet five inches in height, he carried himself with the commanding presence of a much taller man. The wide shoulder pads on his expertly tailored suits helped.

Jack noticed that Rebecca had left his side and gone to sit at her desk by the window. He went to join her, realizing that he had never actually seen her place of work before. Her sunny desk was neatly laid out with photographs for local stories: a beauty pageant, a veterans’ parade, a new statue being unveiled. Next to her computer was a framed photograph of her and Ian, each holding one of their daughters, waving at the camera. He looked away, feeling sadness creep into his heart. He felt as though he were invading her private space.

She opened the drawer of her desk with a key from her purse and gave a small gasp. “They’re gone,” she said, searching through a pile of papers inside. “They were right here on top. I remember putting them there yesterday after I spoke to the auction house.”

Across the newsroom, Jack saw Simon talking on the phone, lowering the blinds in his office. It made him feel uneasy.

He squatted down beside her chair. “Does anyone else have a key to your desk?”

“Simon has a master key for all the desks,” she said. “But to my knowledge, he’s never used it.”

“Were these the only copies of the photographs?”

“They’re the only printed copies,” she said. “But I think I still have the negatives filed away at home. I have a storage freezer in my darkroom.”

“You think you have them?” he repeated. “Don’t you keep the negatives of all your pictures?”

She nodded. “Yes, mostly. But these photographs never appeared in any publication. At the time of Operation Iraqi Freedom, the media was way more fixated on human interest stories. Pictures of artwork weren’t what they wanted. If I don’t manage to sell a photo, I sometimes don’t look after the negatives like I should.” She looked a little sheepish. “I have thousands of them, and I focus on the important ones. I keep meaning to transfer them all to digital format, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

He dropped his voice. “We need to find those negatives before anyone else does.” He grabbed her by the hand. “Let’s go.”

* * *

As Jack led her toward the elevator, Rebecca heard Simon’s voice in the newsroom. “You leaving already?” he called. She looked back to see him jogging to reach them.

“Yes,” she said. “I got what I need.”

A look of surprise swept over his face. “You did?”

Simon quickly smiled, but it was too late to hide his initial reaction. Jack noticed it, too, and flicked his eyes to hers with a look of concern.

“I thought we could have a coffee together,” Simon said, keeping the smile fixed on his lips. “We so rarely get a chance to catch up these days.”

Rebecca felt her face take on a look of amazement. In the ten years she had worked at the Liberty News , Simon had never once asked her to accompany him for coffee. In fact, he didn’t like sitting down for longer than five minutes at a time and always grabbed his coffee on the run. He possessed a kind of energy that kept him moving at a frenetic pace.

“Um, no thanks, Simon,” she said. “I gotta run.” She noticed his disappointment. “Maybe next time.”

“Aw, come on,” he insisted. “Just ten minutes.”

Jack then stepped forward and stood between her and Simon. “Thanks for the offer, Simon, but we have a busy day ahead.”

Rebecca heard the emphasis that Jack placed on we , and she saw Simon’s face harden in response. He was not a man who liked to be challenged, and Jack clearly found it difficult to hide his dislike of her editor. Simon was a big player in the regional media world and had friends in high places. But none of this had an effect on Jack, who treated Simon like any regular Joe.

“Fair enough,” Simon said, raking his hand through his thinning blond hair. “It was good to see you guys. We’ll catch up another time.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked back to his office in the newsroom, pushing open his office door with a flourish.

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he watched Simon walk away. “I think it’s wise to keep Simon at arm’s length,” he said quietly. “The less he knows, the better.”

The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside.

“I know that Simon can be a little arrogant,” Rebecca said, feeling duty-bound to defend her editor. “But I’ve known him for twelve years. I don’t think he’s caught up in anything illegal.” She pressed the first-floor button impatiently when the elevator failed to move. “Simon isn’t a bad person.”

Jack leaned against the elevator wall as the doors finally closed and it started gliding downward. “You see the good in everyone, Bec. That’s your best quality.”

She felt her color rise a little and was suddenly conscious of their proximity to one another in this confined area. Jack’s aura seemed to fill the small space, and she found herself willing the elevator to go faster. But instead of smoothly descending to its destination, the elevator began to shudder and jerk, causing her to lose her balance and stumble sideways. She felt Jack’s arms catch her and bring her back to her feet, but the floor was still shaking beneath her legs.

“What’s happening, Jack?” she yelled, grabbing his hand.

“Just keep a tight hold on me,” he replied, quickly pulling her into the corner, where he could lean against the two walls.

Jack’s arms curled around her waist, and the sound of grinding metal filled her ears. It reminded her of the twisted remains of tanks and military vehicles she had seen littering the roadside during her time in Iraq. She could smell the pungent odor of heated steel as the elevator tried to slow its descent into an abyss below. Jack tightened his grip, restricting her breathing a little and leaving her breathless. She worked her fingers underneath his, and he loosened his hold.

Then the elevator stopped with a sudden jolt, and they were both sent sprawling to the floor when their legs gave way beneath them. She felt Jack’s body cover hers for a split-second before he sprang to his feet like a cat. The lights flickered for a few moments and then went out completely, plunging them into total darkness. This wasn’t a random fault with the elevator. This was a targeted attack, and fear seemed to seep into her bones. She imagined somebody just a few feet away, gleefully toying with the elevator control box, knowing that its occupants would feel terrorized in the dark.

“Jack,” she called, trying not to panic. “Where are you?”

Two strong hands lifted her to her feet. “I’m here,” he said gently. “Don’t worry. I’ll get us out.”

He used his cell phone to shine a flashlight around the elevator, letting it rest on the emergency telephone that hung on the wall by the buttons.

He picked up the red handset. “Hello,” he said loudly into the speaker. “Can anyone hear me? We’re trapped in an elevator at the Liberty News building in Blountstown.”

Rebecca looked at him expectantly, but he shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t even know if it’s working.”

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking at his face lit up by the glow from his cell phone. “I think we’re in trouble here.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her face. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Rebecca,” he said solemnly. “I promise.”

As if to mock his words, the elevator began to shudder again, falling a couple of feet with two quick jumps. Rebecca’s knees hit the floor as she felt her stomach dropping away with the sudden movement. She reached up to take Jack’s hand, and he pushed her down to the floor.