A massive shadow fell across the frosted glass panel of the mahogany door.
It was a mountain of a man.
Suddenly, the heavy head of a steel fire axe smashed through the thick glass panel with a deafening crash.
Shards of reinforced glass exploded into the room, raining down on the carpet like ice.
Through the jagged hole in the door, I saw the furious, terrifying face of Arthur Hoie, the security guard from the lobby.
He had shed his uniform jacket, his massive arms flexing as he yanked the axe backward to swing again.
He wasn't just a guard.
He was Richard’s executioner.
The axe swung forward again, shattering the wooden frame, the heavy steel blade missing my face by mere inches.
The sheer force of the impact shook the walls of the office.
Wood splintered violently inward, showering my faded brown coat in sharp, jagged debris.
Arthur wrenched the fire axe out of the shattered doorframe, his face twisted in a mask of pure, homicidal rage.
"Back away from the door, old man!" Arthur bellowed, kicking his heavy boot against the weakened wood.
The magnetic lock groaned under the immense pressure, the metal bracket beginning to tear away from the wall.
"Marcus, we can't fight him!" Elena screamed, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me toward the back of the office.
"I'm done running," I grunted, planting my boots firmly into the carpet.
The door finally gave way with a sickening crunch.
Arthur exploded into the room, raising the axe high above his head.
He was faster than a man his size had any right to be.
He swung the heavy steel blade down in a brutal arc aimed directly at my skull.
I threw myself violently to the left, crashing into a heavy filing cabinet.
The axe buried itself deep into the mahogany surface of David's desk, the sound echoing like a bomb detonating in the small space.
Before Arthur could yank the blade free from the wood, I lunged forward.
I swung the heavy bronze architectural award with every ounce of strength left in my aging body.
The solid metal struck Arthur squarely in the ribs.
I heard a sharp, sickening crack as the bone gave way.
Arthur let out a ragged howl of pain, stumbling backward and releasing his grip on the axe handle.
He clutched his side, his eyes wide with shock that an old man had actually hurt him.
He wasn't used to prey that fought back.
With a furious roar, Arthur charged forward, ignoring his broken ribs, aiming a massive fist at my face.
I didn't have time to dodge.
Suddenly, a heavy, blinding cloud of thick white powder erupted directly into Arthur's face.
Elena had grabbed the red fire extinguisher from the wall and pulled the pin, blasting the security guard at point-blank range.
Arthur screamed, clawing blindly at his burning eyes as he inhaled the toxic chemical foam.
He thrashed wildly, his massive arms swinging through the air in a desperate attempt to hit us.
I didn't hesitate.
I stepped forward and swung the bronze statue one final time, bringing it down hard against the side of Arthur's knee.
His leg buckled instantly.
The giant collapsed onto the carpet with a massive thud, groaning in agony, completely incapacitated.
I dropped the heavy bronze statue, my chest heaving, my heart hammering painfully against my ribs.
I looked at Elena.
Her gray suit was covered in white chemical dust, but her eyes were fierce and completely fearless.
"Let's go," I rasped, grabbing her arm.
We stepped over Arthur's groaning body, moving quickly out of the shattered office and into the dim, silent hallway of the 40th floor.
The floor was entirely deserted.
Richard had clearly sent the remaining executive staff home hours ago to ensure there were no witnesses.
We moved silently down the long corridor, heading straight for the heavy oak double doors of the executive boardroom at the far end of the hall.
A sliver of harsh white light leaked out from beneath the doors.
From inside, I could hear the loud, mechanical grinding of a heavy-duty industrial paper shredder.
I didn't bother opening the door quietly.
I kicked the right door with the flat of my heavy boot, sending it crashing open against the wall.
Richard stood at the far end of the long mahogany conference table.
He was frantically feeding thick stacks of paper into a massive steel shredder.
The red file folder lay empty on the table beside him.
He froze, turning slowly to face us, a look of genuine, unfiltered shock washing over his pristine features.