Edward Whitmore leaned toward the security monitor until his fingertips touched the edge of the desk.
The frozen image was grainy, but the face was clear enough.
Tall.
Dark hair combed backward.
Gray suit.
Silver watch on the right wrist.
Marcus stood beside the sofa, still clutching his chocolate milk.
“That’s him,” the boy repeated.
Edward did not answer.
Howard Brennan looked from the screen to his employer.
“You recognize him.”
Edward’s jaw tightened.
“I recognize where I saw him.”
Three weeks earlier, the same man had been standing outside a conference room during one of the most bitter negotiations Whitmore Holdings had faced in years.
Edward had assumed he belonged to one of the outside consulting teams.
There had been lawyers, accountants, analysts, and representatives moving through the building all day.
The man had been forgettable by design.
Gray suit.
Polished shoes.
No conversation longer than necessary.
Edward had noticed him only because the man had stepped aside when Edward entered the room.
Now Edward remembered something else.
The silver watch had flashed under the conference-room lights.
Howard enlarged the image.
“No badge,” he said.
Marcus nodded quickly.
“That’s what I noticed.”
Howard changed camera angles.
The footage showed the man entering the catering corridor through a service door.
He never passed the regular security checkpoint.
“How did he get through that door?” Edward asked.
Howard’s fingers moved across the keyboard.
“Electronic access.”
“Whose?”
Howard checked the entry log.
His expression hardened.
“The credential belongs to a temporary executive catering supervisor.”
Edward looked toward the sealed coffee cup.
“Where is that supervisor?”
“According to the morning roster, home sick.”
Howard immediately used his secure phone.
He called one of the two investigators on his personal team, ordered the supervisor contacted away from the building, and instructed another trusted officer to quietly lock down the private elevator records.
“No building-wide alert,” Edward said.
Howard glanced at him.
Edward continued.
“Whoever sent that man may still believe I drank the coffee.”
Howard understood immediately.
Marcus did too.
The boy’s eyes widened.
“You want them to think it worked?”
Edward looked at him with surprise.
“That’s exactly what I want.”
Howard almost smiled despite himself.
“Smart kid.”
Marcus lowered his eyes to the floor, but Edward saw the flicker of pride.
Howard arranged for the coffee to be taken by a trusted investigator directly to a private toxicology laboratory used by Whitmore hospitals for emergency testing.
