Contents of drawers tipped out and papers fluttered to the ground as Dylan searched for any clue she could find. After turning over every inch of the office, a small piece of paper sticking out from under the printer caught Dylan’s eye. With a lift, she freed it. Carefully, she unfolded it, and her sweaty hands smoothed it over her desk as she studied it. The blueprints.
Her frenzied eyes examined it, noting the main areas of the club and the various rooms that didn’t exactly exist. As Ari had done, Dylan scrutinized the details. She pulled out her phone, snapped a few photos, and then tucked it back under the printer.
On the floor, Dylan scurried through the main ballroom with her eyes darting from her phone toward the corners of the room. The thought of finding Ari fixated her focus. She didn’t notice a woman dressed as a plague doctor walking in her direction. The cane she carried slapped her in the chest, making Dylan stop in her tracks. Startled, the pounding of her heart rattled her rib cage.
Lady Katrina lowered her mask. “Dylan, darling. I hear there might be others who are not who they say they are. Frauds. Maxi tells me you’re dedicated to”—she pressed the foot of her cane upward, under Dylan’s chin—“sniffing out the deception. Take a really deep breath, Dylan. What you’re looking for might be right under your nose.”
Dylan swatted it away. “Oh, I’ll find exactly what I’m looking for. Don’t you worry, Lady— Excuse me, I got a job to do.”
She sidestepped Lady Katrina and pressed forward, not giving her the satisfaction of even mentioning the fake name. When she reached the corridor, Dylan turned and watched Lady Katrina stroll out of the main entrance. There were still a few hours before the club opened, so she’d use the time to explore and find these invisible rooms.
Inside the first playground to the right, she pulled the Saint Andrew’s cross from the wall, and as she did, the wall rattled like it was a door. At the edge of the platform, she noticed a little nob, like a lock. A bolt clicked. Dylan pulled again, and the wall moved with the cross, exposing a secret room. A full-size door allowed Dylan to walk right in. On the inside wall, there was a light switch, which she flipped.
The hum of electrical ballast came first, and then the flicker of fluorescent lights illuminated the room in purplish white. It was nothing more than a janitor’s closet. Mops and brooms leaned against the wall. Shelves lined the sides with a door at the far end. She walked to it, gave it a pull, and found herself in a stairwell. Upward, there was a sign at another door indicating the thirty-first floor. Below her, she saw the sign for the twenty-ninth.
Dylan returned the way she came, back into the playground, where she pushed the cross against the wall and twisted the lock closed. Another glance at her phone. She crossed the corridor and entered the second door on the left. Much like the other side, another playground hid behind a narrow door. She walked through it, but this time, there were no lights. She used her phone’s flashlight and found a long hallway with electrical panel boxes and Internet wiring.
Frustrated, Dylan slammed her fist against the inside wall. These rooms were nothing more than maintenance. Better to hide the wires than to have control panels inside the beautiful club.
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