The VIP Landlord

Chapter 2 : The Alibi on a Silver Cane

Chapter 2: The Alibi on a Silver Cane

"We were just throwing away an old carpet from Room 301, Mr. Henderson."

Colter Burke answered the question without blinking, even though the palm inside his jacket pocket was slick with cold sweat. He deliberately stepped forward to block Mr. Henderson's view of the manual freight elevator gate, which wasn't fully locked yet.

Mr. Henderson didn't respond immediately. The old man lifted his silver cane, inspecting the tip that was now slightly stained with red, then pulled a white handkerchief from his suit pocket to wipe the metal clean with agonizing slowness.

"An old carpet?" Mr. Henderson repeated Colt's words, his tone dripping with condescension. "If I recall correctly, Room 301's inventory has used parquet wood flooring for the past five years. Did your grandfather suddenly change the amenities there?"

"My grandfather didn't install it, Mr. Henderson," Colt cut in quickly, using his grandfather's old ledger records to back up his lie. "In the lease ledger you gave me at the office last week, my grandfather noted that he had allowed Ms. Mercer to bring her own carpet three months ago. It got soaked with sewing machine oil while she was repairing her coat this afternoon, and that red stain you see on the floor is just the residue of a chemical rust remover we used to try and clean it before hauling it to the chute."

Mr. Henderson shifted his gaze from the handkerchief to Ines Mercer, who stood silently in front of her door. Ines didn't show a hint of nervousness. Instead, she crossed her arms with a cold, natural defiance, backing up Colt's fabricated story.

"Machine oil and chemical remover?" Mr. Henderson walked toward Ines, ignoring Colt who was holding his breath behind him. "Ms. Mercer, is what this one-week rookie manager saying true?"

"If you don't believe him, you are welcome to step inside and check the leftover bottles in my kitchen, Mr. Henderson," Ines replied in a flat, calm voice. "But I don't think one o'clock in the morning is a polite time for a respectable attorney to trespass into a single woman's room."

Ines's sharp retort made Mr. Henderson halt exactly two meters from her door. The old lawyer stared at her for a few seconds, searching for any sign of panic on her face, but found nothing but an unfriendly, sharp gaze.

Mr. Henderson finally turned back to Colt, slipping the handkerchief into his pocket and tapping his black briefcase. "Very well. I don't care about the corridor's cleanliness, Colter. The main reason I came at this hour is because our central network at the firm detected a system blackout on this building's surveillance feed exactly ten minutes ago."

Colt’s heart hammered against his ribs again. It meant Linus Floyd’s loop in Room 302 wasn't completely seamless and had triggered a silent alarm at the law firm's headquarters.

"The camera system on the third floor went dark for four minutes," Mr. Henderson continued, walking past Colt toward the freight elevator. "Our firm pays a heavy price to ensure not a single second of footage is missed from this building. If there is a disruption, it means someone deliberately intervened, or an intruder is trying to breach our network from the inside."

"This is an old building, Mr. Henderson," Colt said, scrambling to overtake the lawyer and positioning himself between Henderson and the elevator gate. "The heavy downpour outside often causes shorts in the main power lines along the corridor ceiling. I was planning to call a technician tomorrow morning to fix it."

"You don't need to call anyone, Colter," Mr. Henderson said with a thin smile, a expression that made Colt feel the old man knew far more than he let on. "I brought our own network technicians from the office. They are currently inspecting the main server room in the basement to find out if it's a faulty wire, or if an unauthorized device was intentionally planted in this building."

Hearing the words 'basement' and 'server room' made Colt feel as if his blood had run cold. The large man's body they had just dumped was sitting right in the trash compacting area, only a few meters away from the main server unit. If Henderson's technicians found the corpse, or if they detected Linus Floyd's illegal server controlling the building's feed, everything would end tonight.

"Mr. Henderson, the basement is flooded and dangerous during a storm like this," Colt said, reaching out to stop the lawyer's arm with polite but firm resistance. "Let me accompany your technicians down there so they don't open the wrong valves."

"They are professionals, Colter. They know how to work without the assistance of a kid who barely held the keys to this building for a week," Mr. Henderson replied, brushing Colt's hand away with the tip of his silver cane. "Now, open Room 302. I want to inspect the tenant inside. Our central computer logged a massive spike in internet data from that room right when the corridor cameras went dark."

The situation tonight was cascading from one lethal crisis to another. If Mr. Henderson forced his way into Room 302 and saw Linus's dozen monitors still displaying the camera manipulation software, Colt's excuse about faulty wiring would shatter instantly.

Colt glanced at Room 302’s closed door, then cut his eyes over to Ines, who was slowly lowering her right hand into the pocket of her black coat—a silent signal that she was ready to eliminate Mr. Henderson in the hallway if Colt gave the word.

But killing Mr. Henderson here would be the ultimate mistake, as his firm would undoubtedly send an entire armed squad to level the building before sunrise.

Colt took a deep breath, calculating the fastest way to buy time and divert the cunning lawyer's attention.

"Mr. Henderson, if you're inspecting Room 302 because of an internet issue, I think you're looking at the wrong target," Colt said, raising his voice slightly so it would carry through the walls to Linus inside. "That data spike didn't originate from Room 302. It came from Room 303, belonging to Mr. Harlan Montgomery. He asked me to upgrade his bandwidth tonight because he's downloading critical documents from overseas."

Mr. Henderson stopped right in front of Room 302’s door, slowly turning back to Colt with furrowed brows. Harlan Montgomery's name carried massive political weight, and Mr. Henderson knew exactly how dangerous the old man in Room 303 could be if his private affairs were meddled with.

Right at that moment, the door to Room 302 swung open with a violent jerk from the inside. Linus Floyd stood at the threshold, his face red with simulated fury, holding a modem with a snapped cable in his right hand.

"Who dares to accuse me of hacking the network when this piece of junk just blew up from a lightning strike?" Linus shouted in a thoroughly convincing rage.