I headed for the stairs and started the ascent, ignoring my aching muscles. I reached the fifth floor with no problem and stashed the holster and gun behind the fire extinguisher before stepping up to the door.
I took a deep breath and entered. Cubicles filled the entire room with offices lining the walls. Only a handful of employees moved. I circled the cubicles and made for Pentacost’s office. One man dressed in a red business suit hurried out of a door and stared at me.
“What are you doing?”
I smiled. “I’m Robert Zepalas. I had an early meeting with Brian Pentacost.”
The man stepped forward, hand extended. “I’m Pentacost.”
I frowned. Pentacost appeared completely different from the hologram last night. No copper hair, golden skin or impossibly white teeth. The man must have a holog
