Page 104 of Fresh Canvas
My eyes clung to the glossy white square she tossed on my desk. I tried to maintain a casual air as I picked it up.
“A new keycard?”
“Yes. This one has higher clearance, which you’ll need to access the service elevator to take you down to the kitchens. It’s the elevator right outside the Bloomburg wing. It wouldprobably be a good idea to get familiar down there before the event, in case the caterers have any issues.”
Blythe stepped away, then said, “Oh, and it’s only temporary, so keep your other one. This one will deactivate after the soirée.” She grinned and jogged back to her office to pick up a ringing phone.
I didn’t carewhenthe key turned back into a pumpkin. Thanks to my zany godmother, I now had a free pass straight to the archives.
twenty-nine
AMANTHA
The access chirp to the service elevator was music to my ears, the indicator light on the black box shifting from red to green. I had always hated the color green, but that light was the most beautiful shade. The mechanics whirred as the elevator doors invited me in. A security camera jutted from the corner, glaring accusingly from above the buttons.
Well, that’s stupid.
The placement and angle of the camera seemed absurd. I could have pressed any of the elevator buttons and security wouldn’t know what floor I got off on? I hid my smirk behind my hand, feigning a yawn for the camera. That oversight was my gain.
The doors opened to a shadowy basement hallway. I tentatively stepped out, startling as the flighty automatic lights sensed my movement. I scanned the hall. No discernible cameras were anywhere to be seen.
Was security more concerned with public spaces than the dusty basement? Or had Kendra pulled some strings?
The clang of elevator doors slammed shut behind me, making me jump. I breathed out a shaking laugh.
At least I’m not dodging red laser beams.
I cringed at the thought of myself in a black catsuit, my ample bottom setting off alarms left and right. My sight caught on a door I hadn’t expected, just to the left of the elevator. A keycard scanner was stationed beside it. Peeking through a small glass pane, I found an industrial stairway zigzagging out of sight.
The rest of the hallway stretched out. Three other doors lined the corridor, just like my co-worker-turned-boyfriend-turned-ex had said.
I approached archive room number one. A nondescript black box protruded above the handle. I waved my new keycard across it and pushed the door. It didn’t budge. The eerie quiet unsettled me.
Maybe I used the wrong keycard? I scanned my other one. No chirps. No clicks. Frustrated, I rapped the stupid box with my knuckle. A ten digit display illuminated, its blue touch screen activated.
The four digit code.
I slapped a hand to my forgetful brain. How was I supposed to know what it was? Would it have been that hard for Val to have casually mentioned what it had been?
Frustration overcame me, resulting in a tiny temper tantrum. I didnotcome this far to fail.
I knew enough about digital locks to know that after a few misfires, they would probably freeze or alert someone. My face contorted in a grimace. Sliding down the wall, I rested my head on my knees.
During the two years I worked alongside Barbara, I had never visited these doors, let alone known what the code might be.
“Think.” I thumped my forehead against my kneecaps.
Maybe I wasoverthinkingthis. After all, these locks were probably set by humans. Humans had passwords. While the code likely wasn’t the lock setter’s childhood pet, maybe it was a significant date?
My eyes grew huge.
I fumbled for my phone and googled the year the museum had been built.2004.
Scrambling to my feet, I gulped a deep breath and prepared to type. My fingers hovered just millimeters above the cool black surface. I tried to formulate an excuse in case an alarm blared or a security guard came running, but I just had to hope it wouldn’t come to that.
The keypad illuminated with a tap of my finger, the eerie blue lighting my translucent fingertips.
“Two, zero, zero, four, enter.”
