Story code: ST-001182
Part 3: The Cloned Card
Director Vance turned toward the door, gesturing for the two security officers to follow him. “Keep the lobby doors locked,” he told them. “I’m going to check the basement entry logs myself. Jim, stay at your desk. I want a full diagnostic of that reader by the time I get back.”
The heavy fire door clicked shut behind them, leaving the records office suddenly quiet.
I stood up from my chair and walked toward the filing cabinets. The wall mirror angle showed the utility corridor clearly. “You can come out, Chloe,” I said, looking at the glass.
The shadow in the mirror moved. Chloe stepped into the room, her boots dragging slightly on the linoleum. She pulled her hands out of the pockets of her utility jacket. She did not look at Arthur. She looked at the computer screen, then at the wet, crumpled bundle of canvas that the security guard had left in the corner.
“The knots held,” Chloe said. Her voice was flat, devoid of apology.
Arthur did not raise his voice, but his shoulders slumped forward. “What did you do with my badge, Chloe?”
She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small, white plastic card. She dropped it onto the desk. It landed with a sharp click against the wood. “I didn’t take your badge, Arthur. I copied it. During Sunday dinner, when you went to get the pie from the kitchen. I used a card reader I bought online.”
Arthur stared at the white card. He did not touch it. “You cloned a municipal security pass.”
“They needed to see the banner,” she said, her chin tilted upward. “The city council is voting on the emission zoning bypass today. They had to look at it.”
“They looked at it for exactly four minutes,” I said, pointing to the screen. “And now the audit trail shows Arthur’s card opened the balcony door. Vance is checking the basement logs. When he realizes the turnstile records don’t match the balcony reader, he’s going to call for an external security audit.”
Arthur walked over to my desk. He reached out, his fingers hovering over the plastic keyboard. His hand was trembling so violently he had to rest his wrist on the edge of the monitor stand.
“Jim,” he said, his voice dropping to a thin whisper. “The raw event buffer. You haven’t pushed the daily backup to the main city mainframe yet.”
I looked at him. His face was pale, his mouth slightly open.
“If the twelve-fourteen PM entry isn’t there,” Arthur continued, his eyes darting toward the closed door, “then it’s just a database glitch. A malfunctioning reader. They can’t prove anyone used my credentials.”
Chloe let out a short, sharp breath. “Don’t do it, Arthur. Let them audit it. Let them see what we did.”
“Be quiet, Chloe,” Arthur snapped. He looked back at me, his eyes wide. “Jim, please. I have twenty-eight years in this department. If they log a security compromise under my name, the pension board will freeze my exit package. I’ll lose everything.”
The red line on the monitor screen continued to blink, showing the unauthorized swipe. Outside, the distant sound of the fire door opening echoed down the hallway.