Contracted to the Broken Alpha

Chapter 4 Infiltrating the Fortress

The subway car was loud and moving. I could only think about one thing: One Financial Plaza, 47th floor.

I ran out of the subway station and into the cold Boston night. The wind from the water felt cold on my face, which was still wet with tears. Across the street, the big building, One Financial Plaza, stood tall against the dark sky. The front door was very bright. Through the glass, I could see two big security guards. I could not just walk in. If they saw me, they would throw me out before I could say a word.

I walked around the whole building. My heart was beating fast because I was scared. I found the back alley. It was dark and smelled like trash and cleaning supplies. But it was locked up tight. A big steel gate was closed. A camera was watching the gate. There was no way to get in. I tried two other doors for workers, but they needed a face scan or a special card to open. Every door was locked by a person or a machine. It felt impossible to get in. This made me feel sad and hopeless. It was his world, and I could not enter it.

But the Millers don't give up. Mrs. Douglas told me that. I remembered her words. It gave me a little hope. I had to find another way. Then, I saw some cleaners pushing big trash cans toward a service door. I had a crazy idea. I hid behind a big plant. Furthermore, I waited for the first cleaner to use his card. A big door started to roll up. When he turned to push the first can in, I took my chance. I moved out of my hiding spot. I stayed low and hid behind the moving cans. Furthermore, I got inside the building's service area without anyone seeing me.

I followed the trash cans and got to the 45th floor. When the elevator door opened, I quickly went up the fire stairs.

But when I got to the 47th floor, I lost all hope. The security door was made of strong steel and glass. There was no handle. There was only a scanner with a green light for a fingerprint and a face. It was a dead end. Through the glass, I could see the hallway I designed, with its soft lights and nice wood floors. Farther down, I saw the main glass doors for “Jones Holdings.” I could even see another guard sitting at the front desk. It was like a fort inside another fort.

I sat down on the cold steps. I felt like I had no energy left. Not only that, but I could wait here. Maybe someone would come out. But what if no one did? What if they used a private elevator that didn't go to these stairs? I could wait for hours for nothing, and Dan was running out of time. No. This was not a plan. This was just hiding.

I had to change my plan again.

I stood up. My legs hurt. I went back down to the 45th floor. Just as I left the stairs, a man in an impressive suit walked past me. He was going to the main elevators. I followed him. I stood a little way away from him, trying to look normal. The elevator came, and I got in with him. He pressed the button for the lobby. I pressed the button for the parking garage, 'P2'. He looked at me for a second and then ignored me.

As the elevator went down, a new, crazy idea came to me. His car. If I can't get to him in his office, maybe I can get to him in his car. If his car is still here, he has not left yet. I still have a chance tonight.

The elevator doors opened. I was in a big, bright underground parking garage. The air smelled like concrete and car fumes. There was a security booth near the elevators. A bored guard was looking at his phone. This was my new chance. I took a deep breath and walked over.

“Excuse me,” I said. My voice was a little shaky.

He looked up, annoyed. “What?”

“I… I am here to meet someone. Mr. Ryan Jones. I just wanted to ask if his car has left tonight?”

The guard laughed. “Lady, this is the public parking area. Mr. Jones and the other bosses have their private garage, two floors down. And no, I can't tell you anything about it. If you are not parking a car, you need to leave.” He pointed back at the elevator.

My shoulders dropped. Of course. Of course, he had a private garage. Another wall, another locked door. I was about to give up when another guard walked up. He was an older man with a kind, wrinkled face. “Alright, Tim, I'm here. You can go home.”

The young guard grunted, grabbed his jacket, and left. The older guard sat down and looked at me with curious eyes. “May I help you, miss? You look lost.”

This was my last chance. I had to make it work.

“I… I was just asking your friend about Ryan Jones,” I said, and my voice started to break. “I need to see him.”

The old guard sighed. “That's P4, the executive garage. I used to work there. It's hushed down there, and you need special permission to get in or out. I'm sorry, but there's no way for you to get down there.”

His words felt like a punch. The tears I was holding back finally started to fall. This was it. It was over. And in that moment of complete hopelessness, a crazy lie came to my mind.

“I am his ex-girlfriend,” I said quickly, crying. “I… I am going to have his baby. He knows, but he won't see me. He won't answer my calls. Likewise, he is trying to pretend I don't exist.” I let the tears fall down my face so he could see how sad I was. I opened my purse and took out two wrinkled twenty-dollar bills and a ten-dollar bill. It was all the money I had. Fifty dollars.

“Please,” I begged, pushing the money to him. “I know it's not a lot. But I am desperate. I am all alone. I just need to know if he is still here. If I wait, will I see him? I have nowhere else to go."

The guard looked at the money, then at my crying face. I saw something in his eyes. Maybe he felt sorry for me, or maybe he was just a tired man who had seen too much. He sighed again and leaned closer.

“Listen, kid,” he said in a low voice, pushing the money back to me. “Keep your money. You'll need it more than I do.” He turned to his computer and typed something. He was breaking all the rules for me. “He has a private elevator that goes right to his parking spot. But I can see the camera for the exit gate.”

He looked closely at the screen. “There it is. Spot P4-001. A black Maybach. It's still there. He hasn't left."

I felt so relieved that I almost fell. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Oh my god, thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet,” he said, still looking at the screen. “When he leaves, he will use the F-Gate exit. It's on the north side. That exit helps him avoid traffic and get on the highway in three minutes. It's the only exit he uses.” He looked at me, and his kind eyes were now serious. “You didn't hear any of this from me. Now go. And be careful, kid. A man like that… he is not someone you should play games with.”

I couldn't speak. I just nodded, then ran back to the elevator. My heart was pounding with a new, scary kind of hope.

I found the F-Gate exit. It was a steep ramp that went up to a big rolling door on the street. I did not wait right at the gate because I knew a camera would be watching it. Instead, I hunted down a spot on the street outside. The gate opened onto a one-way street. Cars had to make a sharp right turn about fifty yards away. The turn was a blind corner, hidden by the brick wall of an old warehouse. That was the spot. His car would have to slow down for that turn. It was my only chance.

Just then, it started to rain very hard. The cold rain soaked my thin shirt in seconds, and my hair was stuck to my head. So I hid in the shadows of the warehouse wall and waited.

Every minute felt like an hour. I kept thinking about my plan. What would I say? How could I explain everything in just a few seconds? What if he just ignored me? What if the driver thought I was a threat and drove faster? I had so many worries.

I looked at my father's old watch on my wrist. The leather strap was wet, but it was still working. 12:13 a.m. The 72-hour time limit was almost over. Dan was in the hospital, and his life was in danger. And I was here, betting everything on an unknown future.

Just then, new headlights cut through the dark, rainy night. They were different. Brighter, stronger. I couldn't breathe. A long, black car was coming up the ramp from the garage. A Maybach. It had to be him.

This was it. No more thinking. Time to act.

My hands were shaking badly, but I reached into my bag and took out my only weapon—the lipstick in my pocket. I took off the cap and wrote my plan on my wet shirt.

The Maybach reached the street and started to speed up. Its engine made a low, growling sound. It was coming toward the corner. My corner.

As the car got closer, its headlights sweeping across the wet street, I took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows, right into the bright lights. I did not run into the car. I just stood there in the middle of the road and did not move.

The tires made a loud screeching sound as the driver slammed on the brakes. The considerable car stopped just a few feet away from me. Its engine was running angrily.

I did not move. I just stood there, with rain pouring down my face. My heart felt like it was going to explode. I lifted my head and stared right at the dark back window, where I knew he was sitting.

For a long, quiet moment, nothing happened. Then, the dark back window slid down with a soft, quiet sound.

And there he was. Ryan Jones. Even in the dim, rainy light, he looked exactly like he did on the magazine cover, very handsome. But his eyes were not surprised or worried. They were just cold and annoyed.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” the driver's angry voice cut through the rain.

I did not answer him. I just looked right at Mr. Jones. “I need to talk to Mr. Jones! Ten seconds! I have an important deal!”