Part 9:
Floor to ceiling windows, offering a view of the entire city furniture that cost more than his annual warehouse salary and a hushed atmosphere that spoke of serious money and serious power. Marcus Webb stood near the reception desk, his face a professional mask that didn’t quite hide his resentment.
He was a big man built like a former linebacker who’d kept most of his muscle with silver threading through dark hair that was styled with military precision. Hayes,” he said, the single word carrying volumes of disapproval. Marcus, Miss Donovan asked me to brief you on current protocols before my transition. The way he said transition suggested he’d rather be saying execution, though I’m not sure what a warehouse worker could understand about executive protection.
Daniel felt the familiar pre-combat calms settle over him the state where insults became irrelevant background noise. I’m a quick learner. We’ll see. Marcus turned toward a conference room, clearly expecting Daniel to follow like a subordinate. We have 42 active security personnel, not counting administrative support. Three shifts covering 24/7 protection for Miss Donovan and her daughter, plus response teams for the six facilities.
The conference room table was covered with binders, protocols, staff files, the paper skeleton of a security operation that looked perfect from the outside. Daniel picked up the nearest binder, flipping through pages of procedures that read like someone had copied them from a textbook. Your response time at the mall, Daniel said quietly.
What was it? Marcus’s jaw tightened. The situation was already resolved when we arrived. That’s not what I asked. 4 minutes from notification to arrival at scene. 4 minutes. Daniel set down the binder. In 4 minutes, seven people were shot, one dead. If I hadn’t been there, Lily Donovan would have been number eight.
You think you’re some kind of hero? Marcus stepped closer, using his size advantage to loom. You got lucky. Right place, right time, right set of reflexes. That doesn’t make you qualified to run security for a Fortune 500 company. You’re right, Daniel said, not backing down despite the height difference. It doesn’t, but 8 years in Afghanistan does.
Protecting State Department officials in Kandahar does. Keeping senators alive during factf finding missions to active war zones does. He paused, letting each qualification land. What qualifies you, Marcus, besides the Secret Service certificate on your wall from 20 years ago. The bigger man’s face flushed dark red.
I’ve kept Clara Donovan safe for 3 years without a single incident. No, you’ve been present for 3 years while she happened to stay safe. There’s a difference. Before Marcus could respond, the conference room door opened. Clara entered dressed in a black suit that probably costs more than most people’s cars. Her presence immediately shifting the room’s dynamic.
Both men straightened unconsciously. “Gentlemen,” she said, though her tone suggested she found them anything but. “I can hear you from my office, Marcus. That will be all.” “Ma’am, I haven’t finished the briefing.” “Yes, you have.” Her voice carried the kind of finality that ended board meetings and hostile takeovers.
Your severance package is being processed. Your company equipment has been collected. Thank you for your service. Marcus looked like he wanted to argue, but 3 years of working for Clara Donovan had taught him when battles were already lost. He gave a stiff nod and left his footsteps heavy with injured pride.
Clara waited until the elevator chimed before turning to Daniel. I apologize for that. Marcus is taking his termination less gracefully than I’d hoped. He’s not wrong, Daniel said. I don’t know anything about corporate security. But you know about keeping people alive. The corporate part can be learned. The instinct to step between danger and the innocent that can’t be taught.
She moved to the window looking out at the city below. Do you know why I really fired Marcus? Because he failed at the mall. Because when I asked him to review the footage to analyze what went wrong, do you know what he said? He said the failure was mine. That I shouldn’t have allowed Lily to be in a public space without full security detail.
That a proper principal wouldn’t have exposed herself to that risk. Daniel felt anger rise in his chest, hot and familiar. He blamed you for taking your daughter for ice cream. He saw Lily as a liability to be managed rather than a child to be protected. That fundamental misunderstanding of priority makes him dangerous. She turned from the window.
You have a son. You understand that we don’t lock our children in towers to keep them safe. We teach them to live while doing everything we can to protect that life. Speaking of which, Daniel said, “I need to pick up Ethan at 4 school science fair.” “Of course. Actually, that brings up something I wanted to discuss.
Your apartment is fine.” Daniel interrupted knowing where this was going. Is in a building with three code violations and a robbery last month. You researched my building. I research everything. It’s how I’ve survived in this business. She pulled out a tablet, swiping to bring up images. There’s a house in Westfield Heights, four bedrooms, good school district, 15 minutes from here.
