Chapter 4: The Infiltration

Saturday evening at Thorne & Associates felt different from the usual weekday chaos. The mandatory overtime had filled the building with a subdued energy—tired employees nursing their third cups of coffee while wrestling with blueprints and project timelines under the harsh fluorescent lights. Leo had positioned himself at a workstation on the twenty-ninth floor, close enough to monitor the executive level elevator traffic but far enough to avoid drawing attention.

His hands moved steadily across the Henderson Complex drawings, making minor adjustments that were both legitimate work and perfect camouflage. To any observer, he was simply another dedicated employee grinding through the weekend assignment. But Leo's real attention was focused on the subtle rhythms of the building around him—the elevator chimes marking executive departures, the gradual thinning of voices in the corridors, the approaching hour when his carefully laid plans would either succeed brilliantly or destroy him completely.

At 10:47 PM, Leo watched through the glass partition as the last of the senior partners stepped into the elevator, their expensive suits wrinkled from the long day. Marcus himself had left an hour earlier, his departure marked by the distinctive sound of his Italian leather shoes clicking across the marble lobby thirty-one floors below. The executive level was now empty except for the security cameras that swept their mechanical patterns through the deserted corridors.

Leo saved his work, closed his laptop, and made his way to the elevator bank with the unhurried pace of someone heading home after a long day. But instead of descending to the lobby, he pressed the button for the thirty-first floor. His hands were steady as the elevator climbed, but he could feel his pulse quickening with each passing second.

The executive floor was a temple to corporate power, its wide corridors lined with oil paintings and its thick carpets muffling every footstep. Leo had visited this level dozens of times for meetings and presentations, but never as he did tonight—as an intruder with criminal intent. The familiar space felt alien now, charged with danger and possibility.

He made his way to a small conference room near the emergency stairwell, settling in with his laptop and a stack of papers that would explain his presence if questioned. From here, he had a clear view of the corridor leading to Marcus's office while remaining outside the primary security camera coverage. All he had to do now was wait for Maria Santos to begin her cleaning routine.

Time moved with excruciating slowness. Leo forced himself to review actual project documents, knowing that his nervous energy needed an outlet that wouldn't betray his true purpose. At 11:34 PM, he heard the soft chime of the service elevator arriving on the executive floor.

Maria emerged with her cart of cleaning supplies, moving with the efficient rhythm of someone who'd performed this routine thousands of times. She was a small woman with graying hair pulled back in a practical bun, wearing the navy blue uniform of the cleaning company. Leo had spent weeks studying her patterns, and he knew she always started with the outer offices before working her way toward Marcus's private domain.

Leo waited fifteen minutes, allowing Maria to settle into her routine before making his move. He gathered his papers and laptop, took a deep breath, and stepped into the corridor.

"Maria?" he called softly, approaching her with the warm smile he'd perfected during their previous interactions. "I didn't expect to see you up here so late."

She looked up from the executive bathroom she was cleaning, her weathered face brightening with recognition. "Mr. Vance! I could say the same about you. Still working on that big project?"

"Afraid so," Leo replied, gesturing toward the papers in his hands. "Mr. Thorne wants the Henderson presentation perfect for Monday morning. You know how particular he can be."

Maria chuckled and shook her head. "That man expects everyone to work as hard as he does. At least he pays well for the overtime."

Leo moved closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Speaking of paying well, how's your daughter doing with nursing school? The last time we talked, she was worried about the clinical rotation fees."

Maria's expression grew troubled. "She's doing wonderful with her studies, but the money..." She sighed, wringing out her cleaning cloth with more force than necessary. "These schools, they find new ways to charge fees every semester. Books, lab costs, certification exams. Sometimes I wonder how working families are supposed to afford it all."

Leo nodded sympathetically, recognizing the opening he'd been carefully cultivating for weeks. "I can't imagine the pressure. Education shouldn't be such a financial burden, especially for someone pursuing something as important as nursing."

"She's determined though," Maria said, pride evident in her voice despite her concerns. "Top of her class, the professors say. She just needs to make it through this last year."

Leo made a show of checking his watch, then looked back at Maria with what appeared to be sudden inspiration. "You know, I might be able to help with that. I'm working on something that could benefit both of us, but I need to access some files in Mr. Thorne's office. Just for a few minutes."

Maria's expression immediately grew wary. "Mr. Vance, I can't let anyone into private offices. It's against company policy, and I could lose my job."

"I understand completely," Leo said quickly, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "But this isn't about anything harmful. There are some architectural specifications for the Henderson project that Mr. Thorne has locked in his filing cabinet. If I don't include them in tomorrow's presentation, the entire team could be in trouble."

He reached into his wallet and pulled out five hundred-dollar bills, holding them discreetly so they wouldn't be visible to any security cameras. "This would cover your daughter's next semester's fees, wouldn't it? And all I need is five minutes to find the right documents."

Maria stared at the money, conflict written across her features. Leo could see her mental calculation—five hundred dollars represented weeks of overtime pay, enough to ease the financial pressure that had been weighing on her family for months.

"I don't know," she whispered, glancing nervously down the corridor. "What if someone finds out?"

"Who would find out?" Leo asked gently. "The security guards won't be back for another hour, and everyone else has gone home. I'll be in and out before anyone could possibly notice."

He could see her wavering, maternal love warring with professional caution. Leo pressed his advantage with the careful precision of an architect identifying the exact point where pressure would cause a structure to yield.

"Maria, your daughter has worked too hard to let money stand in the way of her dreams. And I've worked too hard on this project to let missing specifications ruin it. We can help each other."

After what felt like an eternity, Maria nodded slowly. "Five minutes," she said, pocketing the bills with quick, nervous movements. "And if anyone asks, you picked the lock yourself. I never saw you."

"Deal," Leo said, his heart hammering as she produced a ring of master keys from her cart.

Marcus's office was a monument to ego and power, its mahogany desk dominating a space larger than most New York apartments. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a commanding view of the city, while expensive artwork and awards covered every wall. But Leo's attention was focused on more practical matters—the filing cabinets, the desk drawers, and most importantly, the small safe hidden behind a sliding panel near Marcus's private bar.

Leo had observed Marcus opening that safe during late-night meetings, timing the process and noting the approximate location of the combination dial. Now, alone in the lion's den with precious minutes ticking away, he moved with surgical precision toward his objective.

The safe was exactly where he remembered it, concealed behind what appeared to be a decorative wood panel. Leo's architectural training had taught him to notice the subtle differences in materials and construction, and he'd spotted the nearly invisible hinges during previous visits to this office.

The safe door was thick steel, but it wasn't meant to withstand professional safecracking—just casual snooping by employees or cleaning staff. Leo had spent hours researching the model online, learning about its vulnerabilities and default settings. Many users never changed the factory preset combinations, relying instead on the safe's hidden location for security.

Leo tried the most common defaults first: 0-0-0-0, then 1-2-3-4. Nothing. But as he turned the dial to 1-9-7-2—the year Thorne & Associates was founded—he heard the distinctive click of the locking mechanism disengaging.

The safe door swung open, revealing a treasure trove that exceeded Leo's wildest expectations. Stacks of photographs were organized in labeled folders, each bearing a woman's name and what appeared to be dates. USB drives were stored in a small wooden box, meticulously catalogued with corresponding labels. And at the back of the safe, several leather-bound albums contained what could only be described as a predator's trophy collection.

Leo's hands shook slightly as he reached for the nearest folder, marked "Jennifer Walsh - 2019." The photographs inside made his stomach turn—images of a young woman in various states of undress, clearly taken without her knowledge or consent. Some appeared to be from hidden cameras, others seemed to be documentation of coercive encounters in this very office.

There were dozens of folders. Dozens of victims spanning nearly a decade of systematic predation. Leo realized he was looking at evidence of crimes that went far beyond workplace harassment—this was criminal sexual exploitation on a massive scale.

Working quickly, Leo transferred everything from the safe into his messenger bag. The photographs, the USB drives, the albums—all of it disappeared into the leather satchel that had carried nothing more dangerous than architectural drawings for the past two years. He took care to maintain the organization of Marcus's filing system, noting which items came from where so he could select the most damaging evidence for his purposes.

As he prepared to close the safe, Leo's eyes fell on a manila envelope marked simply "Insurance." Inside, he found what appeared to be financial records, correspondence with private investigators, and most chillingly, a detailed dossier on Isabelle Thorne's family assets and legal vulnerabilities.

Marcus hadn't just been collecting sexual trophies—he'd been preparing for the possibility that his wife might discover his activities. The envelope contained enough information to destroy Isabelle financially and socially if she ever tried to leave him. It was the final piece of evidence Leo needed to understand the true scope of Marcus Thorne's calculated cruelty.

Leo photographed the insurance documents with his phone, then returned them to their original location. Marcus needed to believe his security was intact for Leo's plan to work, but this information would be crucial for understanding how to approach Isabelle when the time came.

The safe closed with the same distinctive click, and Leo carefully repositioned the wooden panel to hide any trace of his intrusion. A quick survey of the office confirmed that everything appeared undisturbed—chairs in their original positions, papers on the desk exactly as Marcus had left them, no fingerprints on surfaces that shouldn't show his presence.

Leo's entire infiltration had taken less than seven minutes, but it felt like hours had passed as he made his way back to the conference room where he'd left his laptop. Maria was waiting anxiously near her cleaning cart, her face pale with worry.

"Did you find what you needed?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yes," Leo replied simply. "Thank you, Maria. You've helped more people than you realize."

She nodded, clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation but comforted by the money that would ease her daughter's educational burden. "I should get back to my cleaning. And you should probably head home—it's getting very late."

Leo gathered his belongings and made his way to the elevator, the weight of the messenger bag feeling both heavier and lighter than it had when he arrived. He now possessed the power to destroy Marcus Thorne completely, but carrying that power came with its own terrible responsibility.

As the elevator descended toward the lobby, Leo allowed himself a moment to process what he'd accomplished. In the space of one evening, he'd transformed from victim to hunter, from powerless employee to the architect of a predator's downfall.

The infiltration was complete. Now came the far more complex task of weaponizing what he'd discovered.

The security guard at the lobby desk nodded pleasantly as Leo signed out, making small talk about the long hours and weekend overtime. Leo responded with the same mild professionalism he'd maintained throughout his employment, giving no indication that he was carrying evidence that would topple one of the city's most powerful men.

Outside, the cool November air felt sharp against his skin as Leo walked toward the subway station. The city continued its restless Saturday night rhythm around him—late diners emerging from restaurants, couples heading to bars, the ordinary social fabric of New York evening life.

Leo pulled out his phone and sent a simple text to Clara: "The foundation work is complete. Ready to begin construction."

Her response came back immediately: "Come home. I need to see you."

As Leo descended into the subway tunnel, he realized that Maria Santos had been right about one thing—it was getting very late. But for Marcus Thorne, it was much later than he could possibly imagine.

The reckoning was coming, and Leo Vance held all the blueprints.