Chapter 5 - The Door Olivia Was Told Not to Open
At 10:43 that night, Olivia was supposed to be home.
Instead, she sat inside a staff office with Jack guarding the door.
“I have laundry.”
Jack shook his head.
“No.”
“I have a life.”
“No.”
“I have leftover lasagna.”
Jack considered that.
“Maybe.”
Olivia glared.
The door opened.
Victor entered.
Jack immediately left.
Olivia stood.
“Where's Ethan?”
“Alive.”
Her shoulders dropped.
“Where?”
“He was found in a storage room.”
“Was he hurt?”
“He was unconscious. Paramedics are with him.”
Olivia closed her eyes briefly.
“Thank God.”
Victor watched her.
“We also know who entered the penthouse.”
“Rachel?”
“No.”
“Gable?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Victor placed a photograph on the desk.
A man in a maintenance uniform.
Olivia frowned.
“I've seen him.”
“Where?”
She picked up the photograph.
“Yesterday.”
Victor moved closer.
“Where?”
“Service elevator.”
“What time?”
“Maybe six-thirty.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“No.”
“Did you see where he went?”
“Fourth floor.”
Victor's expression changed.
“What?”
“The fourth floor has been empty since renovations started.”
Olivia stared at him.
“Not completely.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are old executive offices behind the ballroom.”
Victor immediately reached for the door.
Olivia followed.
“No.”
He turned.
“Stay here.”
“You don't know the hotel.”
“I have men.”
“Your men spent an hour looking for a microphone hidden in a lamp.”
His eyes narrowed.
“That was unnecessary.”
“Accurate, though.”
Victor stepped close.
“This is not a joke.”
“I know.”
“Then stay.”
Olivia studied him.
“You're scared.”
Victor looked away.
“That answer is complicated.”
“For me?”
His silence answered.
Olivia's expression softened.
“Victor.”
He looked back.
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means when everyone else saw frightened people and kept walking, you stopped.”
He moved closer.
“You were afraid of me.”
“I still am sometimes.”
“And you spoke anyway.”
Olivia's voice dropped.
“My grandmother used to say courage isn't being unafraid. It's being afraid and still deciding what kind of person you're going to be.”
Victor stared at her.
“She sounds formidable.”
“She terrified everyone.”
“I would have liked her.”
“She would've hated you.”
Victor laughed quietly.
Olivia smiled despite herself.
Then the lights went out.
Complete darkness.
Victor immediately grabbed her wrist.
“Don't move.”
A crash sounded in the hallway.
Jack shouted in Russian.
Emergency lights came on.
Red.
Dim.
Victor opened the office door.
Jack stood outside.
“Power failure on four and five.”
Olivia whispered, “That's not a coincidence.”
“No,” Victor said.
Jack handed him a flashlight.
Victor looked at Olivia.
“You stay behind Jack.”
She nodded.
This time, she didn't argue.
They reached the fourth floor through the service stairs.
Renovation plastic covered the hallway.
Dust filled the air.
Olivia pointed.
“Executive offices are through there.”
Jack went first.
Victor followed.
Olivia remained behind them.
At the end of the corridor stood a steel door.
Victor tried the handle.
Locked.
Olivia stared.
“I have a key.”
Victor turned.
“Why?”
“Housekeeping master.”
“Of course you do.”
She unlocked it.
The door opened.
Inside were folding tables.
Phones.
Computer equipment.
Stacks of printed photographs.
Jack swept the room.
“Clear.”
Olivia entered.
Then froze.
One wall was covered with photographs of Victor.
Airport.
Restaurant.
Hotel entrance.
His men.
And Olivia.
There were photographs of her leaving work.
Waiting for a bus.
Buying groceries.
Her face drained.
Victor stepped in front of the wall.
His entire posture changed.
“What is this?”
Olivia whispered.
“They've been following me.”
Victor didn't respond.
She looked at him.
“Since before the microphone.”
He turned toward Jack.
“Take everything.”
Jack nodded.
Olivia walked toward the desk.
Something caught her eye.
A hotel envelope.
Her name was written on it.
“Victor.”
He moved immediately.
She opened it.
Inside was a photograph of her grandmother.
Olivia stopped breathing.
Victor took the photograph.
“How do they have this?”
Olivia stared.
“That was taken in St. Petersburg.”
Victor's face became unreadable.
“When?”
“Twenty-five years ago.”
Jack stepped closer.
On the back was a handwritten Russian sentence.
Victor read it.
Then went completely still.
Olivia looked at him.
“What does it say?”
“You can read it.”
“I know.”
Her voice shook.
“I want you to say it.”
Victor hesitated.
Then translated.
“Ask the maid what her grandmother stole.”
Olivia stared at the photograph.
“My grandmother wasn't a criminal.”
Victor looked at her.
“I didn't say she was.”
“But whoever did this thinks she took something.”
Victor turned the picture over again.
And suddenly his expression changed.
He recognized the handwriting.
Olivia saw it.
“You know who wrote that.”
Victor said nothing.
“Victor.”
His eyes met hers.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
May you like
“My uncle.”
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