Page 98 of No Charm Done

Buildings in his time had character. Even warehouses had loading docks, company names painted on brick, signs of human activity. This thing looked like someone had poured concrete over a terrible secret.

He smoothed down his suit jacket—wrinkled now from days of travel, but still better than anything these modern yokels wore—and headed for the door.

Last chance to turn around, Shaw.

But he’d already made his choice back at the rest stop. One honest job. Even if it killed him.

Which, judging by the sound coming from inside this building, was looking increasingly likely.

* * *

The “reception area” was a grimy, laminate box with two bored security guards at a desk. Fluorescents hummed, a Ficus wilted, and the beige walls screamed of hospitals, purgatory . . . and the Void.

Huh, he thought. Maybe I’ve got more experience with this place than I realized.

Both guards looked up as he entered. Elias had about three seconds to pick his mark. The older one had a buzz cut and what appeared to be a permanent scowl. His ramrod posture shouted military. The younger one had a face like a full moon, the type who’d never met a stranger he didn’t tell his life story to.

Shaw walked straight to the younger guard, letting his shoulders slump just slightly, projecting confused and apologetic in equal measure.

“Afternoon,” he said, adding a touch of exhaustion to his voice. It wasn’t hard, given the circumstances. “I’m here to meet someone from CastR? But I think there’s been some confusion . . .”

The younger guard perked up immediately. “CastR? Oh yeah, you’re in the right place.”

The older guard huffed. “Don’t tell him if he’s in the right place.”

“He already knows, jeez! So uh, you’re one of the consultants?”

“Indeed.” Elias gave him a rueful smile. “I should’ve been met at the front, but . . .” He gestured vaguely, letting the guard fill in the blanks.

“Typical,” the guard said, shaking his head. “Tech people, am I right? Always got their heads in the clouds. Or the servers. Whatever.” He laughed at his own joke.

The older guard grunted, “Need to see some ID.”

This was the moment. Elias reached into his jacket pocket as if he were going for his wallet, patted himself down with increasing concern, then checked the other pocket. Let genuine alarm cross his face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He looked up at them, stricken. “My wallet. I must have—” He pressed his hand to his forehead. “The rest stop. Outside Tulsa. I used the restroom, I must have set it down—” He looked genuinely sick now, again not entirely an act. “My identification, my cash, everything.”

The younger guard, whose name tag read “DANNY,” winced sympathetically. “Oh man, that’s rough.”

But the older guard—“STEVE”—was not impressed. “No ID, no entrance.”

“Buddy, I’ve been on the road for three days,” Elias let some desperation creep into his voice. “I can’t turn around now. I was told to check everything before the Fourth—” He gestured helplessly. “Maybe you want to call the CastR boys, check it out?”

“At this hour?” Steve looked skeptical. “Even if we could call, good luck getting anyone.”

“Oh, I don’t know, they’re working seven days a week on this launch.” Elias met his eyes. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why they’re paying triple overtime for security through the holiday, right?”

“Right . . .” Danny’s resolve appeared to be weakening. After all, how could this stranger know that detail unless he was actually connected to the project.

Elias pressed his advantage. “Listen, I understand you’ve got your instructions. But I’ve got a job to do, and if I don’t get in there and make sure everything’s running properly before the launch . . .” He shook his head. “You really want to be the guy who explains to Ashton Vex that his big demo failed because security wouldn’t let his consultant through the door?”

Danny was already pulling out a visitor badge, scribbling on it with a pen. “No problem. I’ll walk you back, make sure you find the right cage. This place is a maze if you don’t know your way around.”

“That’s very kind⁠—”

“I insist!” Danny was already standing, clearly delighted to have something to do besides stare at monitors. “Steve, I’m doing a cage escort. Back in ten.”

Steve grunted again, already returning his attention to his phone.