Page 14 of Power

“Thank you,” I said as I took the card from her. “And, please, call me Amelia.”

Jessica looked to Shyam, uncertain of how to respond. He glared back. His annoyance at how long this conversation had already carried on was obvious.

“You’re welcome, Amelia,” she said, visibly uncomfortable with this level of informality. “You can wear this one instead of the guest badge that you have right now. It controls access to the elevators and labs.”

“Labs?” I asked.Why would anyone need to use a computer lab when they had a huge private office to work from?I already knew I would be more productive in my new office than I had been at my tiny desk at IP Innovations.

“Thank you, Jessica,” Shyam cut her off before she could respond. “That will be all.”

Jessica must have been used to his curtness because she didn’t flinch. “Yes, sir,” she said and exited the office, leaving us alone once again.

Shyam directed his attention to me again as he tucked both hands into his pants pockets.

Searching for something to say to break the tension, I dropped my gaze to my hands.The keycard.“Do you really have computer labs here?”

A slow, mischievous smile spread to his lips. God, he was even more handsome when he smiled, even if it was devious in nature. How is that possible?

“Now that we’ve had our playtime, let’s get to work. Come with me.” He held the door open for me, allowing me to walk ahead of him.

He put his hands in his pockets again as we walked in silence down the hall. He obviously wasn’t much of a talker. It worked for me because I was generally shy with strangers.Is he a stranger, though?I had just tasted him with my tongue and felt his length against my body.

We walked past the bank of elevators that Jessica and I had used earlier, arriving instead at another elevator bank with only one elevator. Shyam scanned his keycard on the scanner and ushered me inside. My intuition told me to turn and run away. But I didn’t listen.

Inside the elevator, there was only one button, marked with a “B.”B for Basement?This elevator had only one destination—deep down under this world of well-dressed employees and marble floors. Once I descended, would I ever return?

He pressed the button and stepped back in line with me in the elevator car. As if knowing my trepidation, Shyam eyed me silently from his periphery as we descended. Maybe he felt guilty for plunging me into whatever darkness I was about to experience. Or maybe he didn’t feel any guilt at all. Maybe he enjoyed pulling me under with him.

The doors opened, and this time, Shyam exited first. He forwent all manners he had shown me previously in the world above and guided me into this world.

The “basement” looked nothing like the rest of the building. It was unpolished and bare. Paint chipped off the walls, and the floors were made of unfinished cement. A long hallway extended from the elevator, with no doors or windows in sight. There was no natural light like there had been on the top floor of the building. No floor-to-ceiling windows with expensive light fixtures. Instead, bare bulbs hung from the ceiling in between exposed pipes.

Shyam was already midway down the hall when he turned and noticed I wasn’t following him. My brain was screaming at me to turn around and never come back. Whatever was down here wasn’t something that I should involve myself with. Instead, I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked slowly toward my guide for protection. I couldn’t explain the safety I felt when I was close to him, especially when he was most likely the devil, and this was probably his playground.

We walked to the end of the stark hallway and turned a quick left, stopping at a door just past the corner. There were no windows around it, so I couldn’t tell what was inside. There was a scanner beside the door, but it was much higher than the others I had seen in the rest of the building, and a lot bigger. Shyam took my hand and pulled me closer to him, then lifted my hair and pulled it back from my face. The back of my neck tickled in anticipation as he moved behind me, holding my hair firmly in one hand. I was sure he could see the goosebumps that spread over my skin. He gently pushed my chin forward with his other hand until my eyes were in front of the device. I rose on my tip-toes to reach it better.A retina scanner.

This must have been why I’d had to take an eye exam during my HR orientation. I had been told that they were just taking photos of my eyes to test for vision problems. It had seemed weird, but I’d figured these big companies were just extra careful when it came to workplace liabilities. In actuality, they had scanned my retina for access to the labs. I felt stupid for not questioning it more at the time.

The scanner beeped in approval and a click sounded. Shyam opened the door and stepped through, with me behind him.

Motion-sensing lights flicked on as we entered the room. Three rows of computers, each with dual screens, filled the entirely white room. No one else was inside but us. It surelywasa computer lab.But why does it need to be in a basement so far from employee use?And why is no one else using it?

Shyam pulled out a chair in front of one of the computer stations and motioned for me to sit. He hovered behind me and lifted my index finger to a fingerprint scanner next to the keyboard.Why all these security measures?Suddenly, the left monitor lit up with a white outline of the world map. Little white dots freckled the map and moved jerkily, like video-game characters on the move. The right monitor projected tables of data—data linked to each one of the moving dots. It was biographic data about people. They were tracking people!

Astonished, I stared at the moving dots while the tables of data updated automatically. “What is this?” I whispered, unsure of who I was talking to—Shyam or myself.

“Tracking data for anyone of interest to my company,” he answered my hanging question.

“Like owners of new startups?” I asked, hoping the answer would be something benign, even though I knew better. It was common for tech companies to collect private data from users, but what they did with that information was another story.

“Anyone who is involved with buying our product,” he corrected.

He read the confusion that was etched onto my face and continued, “Drugs, Ameliajaan.” Dear.

My heart slammed against my chest. The rumors were true. Shyam and Jai really were drug dealers. And this data was being used for something bad. Very bad.

“Is this why you bought IP Innovations? For our tracking software?” It was all starting to make sense to me.

“Yes,” he answered bluntly.

---