ARC: The Buried Life by Carrie Patel Read Free Book Online Page B

skimmed the directory. An instant later, she motioned for Sundar to follow her toward the elevators.
    “Good work,” she murmured. “How did you know to mention South Haven?”
    He shrugged. “A hunch. The Council’s hosting a delegation from South Haven at the gala next week, so it seemed as reasonable as anything. Why do you ask?”
    “There’s a party here from South Haven.”
    “Really?”
    “No one’s scheduled to visit today, but there are five appointments throughout the week.” She looked at Sundar’s wide eyes. “You might have noticed if you hadn’t been busy flirting with the secretary.”
    He smiled. “But then you wouldn’t have gotten to peek behind her desk.”
    “Anyway, all of these delegations meet with Dr Charley Hask.” They stopped at the end of the hall.
    “Where can we find him?”
    “Level 4. Straight down.”
    Sundar started toward a stairwell, but Malone whistled and pointed to the elevator shaft. Empty as it was, the inspectors could see the bare stone walls, ribbed with steel tracks and pocked with access tunnels. Producing a collapsible metal lever, Malone pried open the safety gate as Sundar watched, mouth agape.
    “Is that regulation, Inspector?”
    “The Directorate will post guards on every landing of the stairway, and they won’t be as gullible,” she said before leaping into the shaft and grabbing the cable. “I’d put those gloves back on if I were you.”
    “Are we supposed to be doing this?”
    “We’re supposed to get answers. Besides, you just impersonated a foreign official and lied to a directorate representative.”
    Sundar gave Malone time to slide down several feet before jumping in after her.
    “By the way,” he said, attempting not to wheeze as he adjusted his hold on the cable and wound his legs around it, “how’d you know to mention Hollens?”
    “He’s supervised this directorate for years,” she said. “That’s where the experience comes in.” Loosening their grips, the two slid down the cable, their hands protected by the long black gloves.
    As she reached the fourth floor, Malone slowed to a halt. She leaned and stretched her arm, grabbing one of the rungs just below a small service shaft, and swung toward it. Crawling into the narrow chute, she heard the elevator below lurch into motion. Sundar dove for a rung and, smacking gracelessly into the wall, pulled himself into the shaft with a grunt. After a short crawl, they reached a deserted corridor and extracted themselves from the ductwork, brushing the dust from their coats.
    “We have maybe five minutes before the secretary realizes we’re gone,” Malone said.
    Sundar nodded, still catching his breath from the crawl. “Then does she come looking for us or assume we gave up?”
    “If she starts a search, that’s another five minutes, tops.” The room just beyond their hall was almost silent, but the draft puffing around the corner suggested a large cavern and, both inspectors knew, much to search.
    “How lucky do you feel today?” Sundar said.
    “In a place like this, not at all.” Turning at the end of the hall, they reached a cavern partitioned by bookshelves. Men and women bent over hardwood desks, skimming texts and scribbling notes while their lips mouthed silent words. In fact, the only noises were the scratch of quill on paper and the whisper of ancient pages. The austere white lighting, undecorated walls, and straight corners contrasted with the stacks of books: colorful and chaotic-looking rows framed by ladders.
    “Not a good place for firelight,” Sundar said. Malone snorted. “I still don’t get it, though,” he mumbled.
    “What?”
    “A place like this. You’d think they’d have a little more security up front, right?”
    “They don’t need to. How many people do you think wander into the bureau district, let alone this directorate, without a good reason?”
    “I see your point.”
    “Not all of it.” Malone picked up a slim hardback from the