While Enzo stood guard, Charity would release her father, then the three would return down the elevator and leave.
This scenario would only work if the officer guarding the prisoners actually dropped his gun. If he pulled his weapon and shot, they were in trouble. Enzo had already said he wouldn’t kill an innocent man, a fellow officer just doing his job.
If the guards raised an alarm before the group left the premises, the building would start lockdown procedures. All available officers would search for them, and the automatic gates would lock for all but the high-ranking officials.
This procedure existed so that the leaders could leave quickly if the building ever came under attack. All other vehicles had to go by the guard station, which meant Enzo, Charity, and her father would need to find an alternate way over the twelve-foot-tall, electrified fence.
On the drive to the building, Charity held on to her optimism. This would work. They would free her father.
They drove up to an ominously tall building. Fifteen stories, at least. Charity gave the guard at the booth her fake name. The guard ran a facial scan and waved them through without comment.
So far, so good. They parked the truck in the visitors’ parking area and walked purposely toward the front door.
Once she and Enzo stepped inside, fear began to press in on her. She’d never seen such a large lobby. It had gleaming black floors, pale gray walls, and matching chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The place didn’t look like anything had ever been broken in it. Or ever gotten dirty. The lobby was as much a sign of power as the armed officers sitting at the counter in front of them.
Charity’s pace automatically slowed. If officers captured her, she would be tortured and most likely killed. Her father loved her, but he wouldn’t trade information to help defeat the breakaway states for her safety. And that’s what the government would ask him for.
She glanced at Enzo to see if a sudden onset of nerves had also hit him. He looked calm and collected. Almost casual.
She forced herself to walk up to the counter and repeated her planned story to a female guard who spent more time than usual staring at Enzo. For a moment, Charity worried that the woman knew they were lying, that she would insist on doing a facial scan of Enzo and discover he was presumed dead. They might be caught before they ever made it to the third floor.
The woman ignored Charity and gave Enzo a too-friendly smile. “This is a great place to work. I hope you get the job.”
Enzo smiled back. “Thanks.”
She winked and let them go.
So not suspicious, just flirting. That was good, even if it seemed wrong to see a woman flirt with her husband.
They headed toward an elevator. When they were out of earshot, Charity asked, “Did that woman know you?”
“I’m not sure,” Enzo said. “I’ve met a lot of women officers over the years.”
How many of them remember him? Turned out, his looks had a downside. Their footsteps echoed across the floor. She felt like the sound alone drew too much attention to them.
They reached the elevators and got inside one. Charity pressed the button for the third floor, and the elevator scanned her face. Satisfied, it made its ascent.
As soon as the doors shut, Enzo’s casual demeanor fell away. He put his hand into the pocket that held his gun and mouthed the words, “When we leave, remember to keep behind me.”
He wanted to use himself as a shield. She didn’t like the idea but knew he would insist no matter what she said.
Cameras sat blinking in the corners of the elevator. Later on, when the police reviewed the footage, they’d know Enzo had helped her. He would become a criminal and a fugitive like the rest of them. She’d put him in danger.
This will work, she reminded herself. Her father wouldn’t have told her to come otherwise. Although, granted, he hadn’t actually asked her. Perhaps he’d supposed Enzo would take her someplace far away. Maybe she was wrong about all of this.
She squared her shoulders. She couldn’t let her mind dwell on that possibility now.
The elevator door slid open. As they stepped outside, Enzo sent Callum the text, asking him to make the call to the guard watching the security camera.
Charity wasn’t sure what she expected to see in the hallway. Perhaps something like the old movies—rooms with bars that looked like cages. The place might have been an office hallway. A gleaming floor spread before them. White walls with windowed doors dotted the passageway.
A guard sat in a chair by the mouth of the hallway—a short, gruff-looking man who wore a bulletproof vest. His face was unprotected. A foolish oversight.
He stood when he saw Charity and Enzo, looking them up and down. His hand went to the gun in his holster. “Can I help you folks?”
Enzo drew his gun first, pointing it without breaking his pace. “I’m an officer. Drop your entire holster on the floor.”
The man hesitated, his hand still on his gun, anger warring with fear on his face.