The silence inside the storage room was broken only by the continuous hum of the ventilation system. Lydiane moved with calculated speed between the corridors of metal shelves, her eyes scanning the identification labels with absolute focus. She was looking for the specific case code for Michael.
After a few minutes of meticulous searching through the most recent sections, her fingers touched a plastic box with a biological security seal. Inside it, in sealed evidence bags, were the sedative ampoules with Michael's supposed fingerprints—the central piece of evidence supporting the accusation against him. Without hesitation, Lydiane used a small blade she had hidden to break the side seal of the box in an almost invisible way, slid the bags with the ampoules to the bottom of her structured leather bag, and adjusted the clasp.
When she turned, about to reach for the doorknob to leave, the door opened abruptly. A staff member from the triage sector, wearing an ID badge on her chest, entered holding a clipboard. She stopped upon seeing Lydiane and frowned, narrowing her eyes.
— Hey! What are you doing in here? This sector is restricted — the woman questioned, her voice firm and suspicious.
Lydiane didn't show a millimeter of nervousness. Her expression instantly softened into a friendly smile and she raised one of the plain coffee cups she was still carrying in her hand.
— Oh, sorry! I came to bring you this coffee — Lydiane lied with perfect naturalness. — Agent Michell found me downstairs in the corridor and asked me to come up and deliver it to you, since you've spent the whole morning locked in here organizing the new files. He thought you needed a break.
The suspicion on the employee's face dissolved immediately. She looked at the steaming cup, let out a sigh of relief, and set the clipboard down on a side table.
— Wow, Michell really saved my day. I was really needing this, triage is insane today — the woman said, stepping closer.
— I can imagine the work it takes. Here you go — Lydiane took two steps forward, placed the cup in the employee's hands, and gave a slight nod. — Good work in here. I have to head down now.
— Thank you! — the woman said, already bringing the cup to her lips.
Lydiane crossed the door of the evidence sector with calm, measured steps. She went down the Headquarters stairs keeping the same impeccable posture, crossed the main lobby, and passed through security at the entrance without raising any suspicion. No one in the building had noticed the shortage in the case box.
As soon as she reached the sidewalk, Lydiane quickened her pace and headed straight for her apartment. Upon entering, she locked the door, went to the laundry area, and took the sedative ampoules and paper reports out of the bag. Using a secure metal container, she lit a portable torch. The fire quickly consumed the documents until they turned to black ash, and the intense heat completely destroyed the plastic and chemical residue of the ampoules, definitively erasing the main physical evidence that incriminated Michael.
While the flames finished reducing the evidence to nothing, the scene returned to the dimness of the cell block in the maximum-security prison.
Michael closed Rebecca Nozel's book exactly on page 142. His eyes focused on the small opening in the grate, mentally calculating the time elapsed since his visitation session. By his logistical estimate and knowing Lydiane's operational capacity, he determined that the possibility she had already succeeded in the infiltration and elimination of the evidence from HQ was greater than ninety percent. The first part of the external board was clear.
Hearing the snap of the book closing, Albert stretched on the opposite bunk, set his suspense novel aside, and looked toward the corridor, where the sound of cutlery and heavy pots was beginning to echo down the pavilion.
— Lunchtime is coming up soon — Albert commented, breaking the silence and adjusting his uniform on his body. — Hopefully the line is calmer than it was this morning.