He had learned to treat worst-case planning as a discipline rather than pessimism. Before building Carter Meridian, he had worked in the procurement division of a manufacturing company whose largest customer went bankrupt with almost no warning. The company had survived because a handful of employees quietly prepared alternate contracts when everyone else was celebrating another record quarter. Daniel had remembered who did the preparation, who took credit for it, and how quickly a business could become fragile when one powerful person refused to consider an inconvenient possibility.
Warren appeared in the hallway an hour later with Silas two steps behind. He was wearing a fresh gray suit and the satisfied expression of someone who believed he had already won the first round. "Good morning, Mr. Carter," he said. "I trust you signed in downstairs. Rules are rules."
"I did," Daniel answered.
"Excellent. Then you know there's a little legal matter pending. By Monday, perhaps you'll be coming here as a visitor again."
Daniel did not reply immediately. He unlocked his phone and played a few seconds of the lobby recording, with Warren's own voice clearly describing who should enter with a mop and who should enter with a tray. The sound traveled down the quiet corridor. Silas flinched while Warren's smile became fixed and brittle.
"Routine security footage," Warren said. "It proves I was taking the risk seriously."
"It proves you were told my badge was valid and chose not to listen," Daniel replied. "It also proves what you said when you thought I had no authority to answer you."
Rory handed Warren a formal demand for internal records. She requested the policies and correspondence behind the lobby screening flag called P, along with the access-control records, training instructions, vendor-screening criteria, and any related reports from the previous eight years. The board's independent committee had authorized the review, and counsel had placed the relevant systems under a legal preservation notice. The demand gave management twenty-four hours to identify custodians and provide access to the requested categories of records.
Warren read the document with sudden attention. "P flag? What's that supposed to mean?"
"If no such flag exists, the inquiry will be brief," Rory replied. "If it does, we need to know who created it and how it was used."
"You're inventing a conspiracy out of a security memo."
"Then the records should clear it up," Daniel said.
Warren crumpled the letter and slipped it into his coat pocket. Silas stared at the paper as though it contained a name he hoped not to recognize. When Warren ordered him to follow, Silas took a step toward the elevator and stopped. He said he had forgotten a document, waited for Warren to disappear behind the doors, and turned back toward Daniel with the look of a man walking toward an appointment he had postponed for nine years.
"Mr. Carter," he said quietly, "I need to speak to you."
They met shortly after noon with Rory present. Silas insisted that the door be closed and stood through the first several minutes even after Daniel offered him a chair. He admitted signing the affidavit and immediately began explaining the pressure Warren had placed on him, as though a sufficient description of fear might somehow erase the words he had sworn were true. Daniel let him finish.
"I didn't see your badge," Silas finally said. "I came downstairs after it was already broken. Warren gave me the statement and told me to sign it, or he'd make me responsible for everything that had happened under his management."