Page 50 of Seal My Fate

“So, let’s get this information downloaded and get the hell out,” Saint agrees, looking determined.

We start to methodically search the doorways and closets leading off the main lab. I find the server room, full of high-tech equipment, and then next door, a large office. There’s the usual desk and computer, but also a row of action figures lined up on a shelf, along with some framed diplomas.

Phillip McAlister.

Bingo.

“Over here,” I whisper-call to Saint. He moves straight to the computer. The screen prompts a log-on. “Wren says Phillip is terrible with passwords, he always picks something too complicated, and forgets it.”

“And since the new Ashford protocol is for everyone to update their password weekly…”

“He’ll probably have written it down, somewhere,” I finish.

We start to search the room. Saint checks the desk drawers in turn, while I scan the shelving and file cabinets. Then I spot Phillip’s precious mini fridge in the corner and get a stroke of inspiration.

Inside, I find a row of La Croix sodas… and a Post-it stuck to one reading ‘1trueRing1Sauron!_Baggins.’

“Got it!”

I snatch the slip of paper and rush back to the computer, where Saint grabs it, and painstakingly types it in.

Access granted.

“We’re in.”

We share an excited look, before Saint starts clicking. “Wren isn’t sure where the original datasets would be stored, so she said we should copy everything that looks related to the project.”

He pulls up Phillip’s file directory and zeroes in on everything with the word ARCHEMEDES in the titles. The Ashford code-word for the project. Then Saint pulls a slim portable hard drive, and plugs it in. He highlights the files and drags them over to the external drive icon.

Copying… 1…2…3%

He sits back, exhaling. My heart is racing, too. I can’t believe we’re doing this.

“What will you do with the information, if it really is the proof we need?” I ask Saint, as the data copies, and the completed percentage rises.

He pauses, looking troubled. “I have no choice. If they faked the trials, we have to expose them. I can’t let them bring the drug to market, knowing it doesn’t work.”

I can’t even imagine the fallout of a scandal like this. There’ll be a media frenzy, that’s for sure. Criminal charges, massive investigations, maybe even jail time—and that’s not counting the little matter of attempted murder, either.

But still, the thought gives me no pleasure. Not when I know the price Saint will pay.

“This is your family we’re talking about,” I say softly. “The Ashford name.”

He gives me a pained nod. “I know.”

We’re silent a moment, watching the progress bar creep along. The numbers tick up slowly, and it’s just past 80 percent—almost home free—when I hear something, in the lab outside.

“What was that?” I freeze, my pulse racing.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Saint replies, but then the noise comes again, loud enough to make him stop, too.

Footsteps.

Coming closer.

Shit.

Chapter13

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