Chapter 10
Ezra felt lighter.
Not clear-headed exactly. Just scraped clean. Like something had been burned off. He stopped at the kitchenette, poured a cup of coffee. He leaned against the wall and surveyed the scene.
Across the floor, they moved like they always did. Scroll. Type. Sip. A jitter here, a lag there—out of sync when viewed close, appearing almost chaotic. But zoomed out far enough, it looked rehearsed. One rhythm. One direction.
He walked to his office and sat down at his desk.
He double clicked his mouse to bring the tower to life. Nothing strange in the startup. No messages. No light.
He started with the regulars, hail claims, reinspection requests and the likes. A small fire contained in a detached garage. He wrote notes, pinned photos. He clicked slowly, as if the pace itself were proof of honesty.
They were watching. That much he knew. Not just the webcam, not just the clicks—all of it. So he gave them what they wanted. A man doing his job.
After enough of the performative dance, he opened a dealership file.
The light on the camera blinked on.
The case was closed. No internal review pending—just a payout. Clean and final.
His name was on it, despite having never seen it before. Referring Agent: Calloway, E.
There was no new information, just the same pattern. On the bottom right side of the screen was a button marked Payout. He clicked, hoping to find something new to guide him.
Access Denied.
He minimized the system window and opened a browser tab, typed Maxwell Impera LLP into the search bar.
The light blinked on again, they were looking for triggers wherever they could find them.
The top hit was an innocuous looking law firm located in Omaha.
Back in the file, he tried to open a review process. If he was meant to find the leak, this is where he should start. Normally this took days. Someone had to examine the paper trail, seek approval of middle managers, dip the rubber stamps in ink.
His email pinged a reply in under sixty seconds.
Request Denied.
He sat still. Not shocked. Not even angry. Just well aware now that this was all being automated.
He went down for lunch, hoping some human interaction would offer some direction.
He grabbed a sandwich, a bag of chips and a bottle of water. As he scanned the room, he spotted her—the woman who helped with the coffee. She was sitting alone near the window, stirring a soup of sorts in an overcooked, microwave-safe styrofoam bowl.
He walked over to her.
"Mind if I join you?"
She looked up, blinked once, then gestured to the chair across from her.
They ate in silence, Ezra approaching his sandwich one bite at a time. His eyes drifted to the far wall where a flatscreen cycled through internal announcements—none of them new.
"I think my webcam's been acting up," he said, in an awkward non sequitur.
"Everyone's is," she replied, still focused on her spork. "They're testing some kind of software."
"What kind?"
"I don't know. Just what they told us in the update." Her tone was dismissive, like none of these questions mattered.
He nodded, let a second slip between them.
"You notice it coming on during certain files?"
She paused, finally looked at him.
"Mr. Calloway…"
"Ezra."
She offered a tight smile. Polite. But distant.
"It's not that deep."
She stood, tray in hand.
"They clear our cache every three days. If you're worried about your search history, don't be. It won't last long."
And with that, she walked off.
Ezra finished his lunch in silence, his mind churning around how to get the information he needed.
He took the stairs back up.
He needed the time, not for his heart but for his head.
The floor looked the same as before lunch. Almost as if nobody had moved. The rhythm continued. Scroll. Type. Sip. Scroll.
He sat, logged back in, and opened the dealership file again.
Same names, same payout, same button grayed out. Only this time the webcam light stayed on.
He tried a right click. No print option.
He tried copying the page to a blank document. The formatting broke—columns collapsed, lines turned to symbols.
He opened the export menu. The dropdown blinked, refreshed itself. None of the options were clickable.
He tried taking a screenshot.
The image file appeared as pure white.
He opened it, stared at the blank square, then closed without saving.
He looked up. A coworker across the aisle met his eyes briefly, then turned back to his screen.
One more attempt—he opened a system window meant for internal reporting. He selected Print Summary, and warning flashed:
Action requires supervisor approval
He clicked anyway, and a login prompt appeared.
Access Request Sent
His phone buzzed in his pocket with a text from Arlo.
Any movement?
Ezra stared at the screen for a moment before typing.
Access Denied
I'm trying. Every time I dig, the system locks up tighter
Arlo was quick, he was waiting in the chat.
You still seeing your name?
Everywhere. I can't get anything out. They've sealed it
Three dots appeared. Then stopped. Then started again.
That's probably not a coincidence
Ezra didn't respond right away. He could feel his breath, in and out, but slower now. Deeper. He typed, then deleted. Typed again.
What do you mean?
They want you to find this. Get me something, anything. Before it's too late. I have our friend working on account numbers
He stayed late again, but only by a little. There was no one left to impress. They knew what they wanted from him and were already convinced they'd found it.
He logged off, shut down the tower, and packed his satchel with all the files he wasn't able to extract.
The floor had emptied out, he was the last one there. As he scanned across the room, he noticed a camera tucked up in the corner. He didn't remember seeing it before, and he didn't remember seeing anyone install it. He stared at it for a moment before heading to the elevator.
As he stepped into the lobby, he saw Barry Glass near the exit, walking slowly with a file box clutched to his chest. A security guard walked a pace behind him, silent.
Ezra kept his distance, waited for Barry to exit and get far enough away from the building before approaching.
"What happened?" Ezra asked once he caught up.
"They said they were downsizing my department, but we both know that's not true."
"Arlo said th-"
"Shh," Barry's eyes darted around.
"They caught you?" Ezra whispered.
"They let me," he said, and he walked away.