Chapter 2 - The Locked Doors
I swiped it again. Red.
The security guard, a man I had personally hired three years ago, stepped out from behind the mahogany desk. He didn't smile. He didn't greet me. He just held up a cardboard banker’s box containing the few personal items I had kept on my desk. My framed college diploma. My favorite fountain pen. A stale box of breath mints.
"What is this, Marcus?" I demanded, my voice echoing in the empty lobby. "Let me up."
"I can't do that, Mr. Keaton," Marcus said softly, handing the box toward me. "The board had an emergency meeting this morning. You’re permanently barred from the premises."
"On whose authority?!"
"The federal authorities, actually," a voice said.
I turned around. My business partner, David Vance, stepped off the executive elevator. He looked at me with a mixture of absolute disgust and quiet pity.
"David, what the hell is going on?" I asked, my voice cracking.
May you like
"Corinne sent a package to the board yesterday morning," David said, stopping a few feet away. "And she carbon-copied the IRS and the SEC."
My blood ran ice cold.
