Chapter 10: The Blueprint
The hum of the portable generator filled the cavernous space of the textile mill, a low mechanical heartbeat against the rushing sounds of the river outside. Arthur poured three cups of black coffee from a dented thermos, sliding them across the makeshift wooden table.
"The foundation headquarters is a fortress," Arthur explained, his voice grave. "After the board approved the new security budget last year, they installed biometric locks on the executive floor and reinforced the glass. Brody has two deputies stationed at the front entrance and another patrolling the perimeter."
Julian took a sip of the bitter coffee, his mind already shifting from the shock of the night’s survival to the precise, analytical mode of an architect. He pulled a piece of charcoal from the fire pit and smoothed out the back of one of Arthur’s redacted topographic maps.
"They reinforced the glass and the doors," Julian said, rapidly sketching a rough floor plan of the three-story brick building in downtown Oak Creek. "But I oversaw the historical preservation of that building five years ago. Because of the city's strict heritage codes, they couldn't touch the original ventilation shafts or the basement delivery annex. The biometric locks are tied to the main server, but the building’s power grid is decentralized."
Clara leaned in, studying the charcoal lines. "So, you can cut the power?"
"I can cut the power to the security grid from the basement utility room," Julian confirmed, tapping the paper. "It will trigger a system reboot. We’ll have exactly ninety seconds before the backup generators restore the electronic locks on the executive floor. But someone still has to get up there, find the desk, and get the flash drive."
"I'll do it," Clara said.
Both men looked at her, stunned.
"Clara, no," Julian objected immediately, shaking his head. "Brody’s men are looking for you. They saw you at the church."
"They saw a caterer in an apron lose her mind," Clara corrected him, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach. "Right now, half the town thinks I had a psychotic break, and the other half probably thinks I'm dead in the woods. But I have something neither of you have: an all-access pass."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "And what is that?"
"My catering van," Clara stated, pointing to the sketched entrance of the building. "Eleanor Pendelton ordered a massive spread for the mourning reception today. Obviously, the reception was canceled when the casket exploded. But Brody and his deputies have been working a crime scene for eighteen hours straight. They are tired, they are hungry, and they are expecting crisis management teams at the headquarters."
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Julian looked at her, seeing the fierce determination masking her fear. "You want to Trojan-horse your way into a heavily guarded building with pastries and coffee?"
"It’s American tradition," Clara said with a tight, humorless smile. "Nobody stops the delivery driver bringing the donuts."
