Chapter 29

Getting past the security-badge activated, employee-only doors required picking out the right tailgate victim. After a few minutes of standing outside with Casey, pretending to be a couple of casually chatting co-workers, April spotted a promising target striding towards the lobby doors, talking into her cell phone, towing a wheeled suitcase behind her.

April fell into step behind the woman, whipping out her own phone and keeping her head down as though she were engrossed in checking messages on her way to some important meeting. She walked quickly through the marble-tiled foyer as though she did it many times a day, not looking around at the dark wood paneling and patriotic imagery that dominated the decor. Casey hustled after her, heavy bag slung over his shoulder. The lobby receptionists gave them a passing glance and returned to their conversation.

The woman with the suitcase swiped her access card, pulled the door open and kept plowing straight down the hallway. April grabbed the handle just before the door shut and she and Casey slipped inside. They found the stairwell easily enough and went up all five flights to the top floor. It let them out behind the elevators and as they turned the corner, a security guard behind a desk called out, "Excuse me, Miss? Sir? This is a secure floor. Do you have visitor badges?"

April gasped in chagrin. "Oh, they signed us in downstairs, but I must have left them on the desk! Do we have to go all the way back down?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Drat!" April sighed dramatically, rolling her head back in exasperated defeat. She turned to the security guard with a harried smile that begged commiseration. "Our photo shoot with Eric Clark for CEO magazine was supposed to have started ten minutes ago, but traffic from the airport was an absolute nightmare. Can I quickly go check with his assistant about pushing back his next meeting while my photographer here gets his gear set up? I'll run right back down for the badges."

The guard, a young smooth-faced man with broad shoulders, considered her pleading smile then said, "Okay, but I can't let you stay up here without badges."

"Of course. I'll be right back." She motioned to Casey urgently and they rushed down the hall.

"How'd you get so good at this?" Casey whispered to her, impressed.

"Practice," she hissed back. It was true - she did have plenty of experience fabricating convincing stories, stories explaining why she'd missed work again, why her place sounded like a fraternity house, why her family never met her friends, and why her apartment building had burned down, just to name a few.

"I better keep an eye on you, you sneaky fox." He gave her bottom a smack.

"Not now," she said, indulgently. She saw a man filling a mug at the water cooler and went up to him. "Excuse me, I'm supposed to be picking up a courier package from Eric Clark's assistant. Can you remind me where she sits again?"

"Oh, all the way down the hall to the right," he said helpfully.

"Thanks. What's her name again?"

"Sandra."

"Oh yes, that's right. Thanks!"

Sandra, a curvy middle-aged brunette in stretchy-looking clothes, was in a phone conversation. April waited for her to finish, using the opportunity to look around. The very large office behind Sandra's cubicle must be that of her boss, Mr. Clark.

"Can I help you?" Sandra asked.

April flashed a winning smile. "Hi Sandra, is Eric in today?"

"Um, he's still at his meeting." She looked at April quizzically. "I'm sorry, you are...?"

"June Waters from CBS 60 Minutes. I'd spoken to Eric about an interview later this week, but since he's in today, I was hoping we could do some background footage, you know, some shots of him sitting in his office, walking down the halls, that sort of thing. I'll really save time later, with editing."

Sandra's eyebrows knit together in bewilderment. "I don't have any media interviews on his calendar this week..." She turned to the schedule on the computer screen. "In fact, I'm sure he's declined all interview requests, as we've already issued a press statement." She turned back to April, suspicion creeping into her face. "How did you get up here? Did security let you through? Hey, wait- he's not allowed in there!"

Sandra jumped up from her desk and rushed, yelling, into her boss's office. Casey had pulled the news reporter's camera from the bag and was filming (or pretending to film, April wasn't even sure he knew how to operate the thing) a long tracking shot of the office.

April scooted behind Sandra's desk and pulled the postage stamp-sized wireless transmitter from her pocket. (It was amazing the things Donatello could get his hands on over the internet.) Her heart pounding, she turned it on and affixed it to the bottom of Sandra's telephone, then straightened up quickly, just in time to see a man in a charcoal suit coming towards her, engrossed, thankfully, in a conversation with another man walking beside him, but his face recognizable to her immediately, from photos she'd pulled up in her research, as that of Eric Clark, CEO of Alliant Operations.

Not allowing herself any time to consider how much trouble she could be getting into, April snatched her voice recorder from her inside jacket pocket, flicked it on, and intercepted the six-foot-two, square-jawed, former Navy SEAL.

"Eric Clark, hi. June Waters from CBS. I left messages for you earlier which you haven't returned, so I was hoping to take a few minutes of your time now to ask you some questions about the allegations that Alliant has been complicit in performance drug abuse by its military contract personnel."

Mr. Clark took one look at April and her outstretched voice recorder and strode past with a grimace of surprise and disdain. He caught sight of the scene in his office - his assistant yelling at Casey to turn off his camera while he steadfastly ignored her - and his grimace widened into one of anger. "Sandra," he called, "what are these people doing in my office?" He said to the astounded man walking with him, "Call security for me, will you?"

April followed Clark into his office, still talking as fast as she could. "Mr. Clark, how do you respond to speculation that Alliant actually procured these drugs for employee use?"

"Ridiculous. No comment whatsoever. Turn that camera off!" He put a hand up to the lens that Casey turned on him.

"Does the name Saito Doshida mean anything to you? How about Agete, the shadowy semi-criminal organization that Saito Doshida founded and that we suspect actually develops and manufactures these drugs?"

"Nothing at all. Now leave my office before I have you arrested."

Two security staff members were hurrying towards them. Casey walked out of the office and pointed the camera lens in their direction. One of the guards, the one April had lied to earlier, grabbed the camera off Casey's shoulder while the other tried to put him in an arm lock.

Even though she knew, rationally, that Casey could handle a fight just fine, that he hung out with Raphael for God's sake, she couldn't control her visceral reaction. Oh Casey, be careful, be careful... She edged her way backwards, her fingers slipping into her pocket and palming the other micro transmitter hidden there.

Casey twisted free and elbowed the nearest guard away, nearly knocking him into a desk. Both security men jumped him and started wrestling him to the ground, calling for support. Eric Clark and his secretary ran out of the office towards the mayhem.

April reached for the phone on the desk and attached the bug to the bottom, cursing her quivering fingers. No one was paying attention to her; Casey was putting on quite a show, thrashing about on the floor and requiring four men to hold him down. She set the phone back down and rushed out of the room. "Okay, okay, we'll leave, just let him go," she yelled at the security people. Casey gave a couple more good thrashes for theatrical affect, then let himself be dragged to his feet. April managed to get one last word in: "So for the record, Mr. Clark, you deny any ties to drug-supplying organizations like Agete?"

"Get these people out of here," Clark yelled over his shoulder as he walked away.

The camera and voice recorder were confiscated, no surprise, and they were both escorted, rather roughly, from the building. April felt as though she couldn't get her heart rate to come down; she was nauseous and giddy from all the adrenalin. As they were thrust out on the sidewalk, Casey grinned at her. He had a bruised cheek, the collar of his shirt was torn, and his hair was messed up. "April, baby," he said, "that might be the most fun we've ever had together out of bed."

April snorted at him in disgust, then took his hand as they ran back to the waiting van.

###

"Sandra, set up a meeting with Saito Doshida."

"Your calendar is full this week, do you want me to make it next Tuesday?"

"No, move something. Get him in here as soon as you can."

Donatello pulled the headphones off his head. "Checkmate."