Page 79 of Secret Mission

Hope flickers between our motley team. "Can we see the footage?"

"No."

Justice steps closer, his usual affable persona gone. "What do you mean, no?"

"The cameras..." He makes a circular motion with his hands. "Normally, they record on a loop. For twenty-four hours. Then they record over."

"That's fine," Allison says. "We just need to see the last hour."

The guard shakes his head again. "The system is down. Since Tuesday."

Of course it is.

I run a hand over my face. "Is there anyone else who might have seen something? Anyone stationed at the entrances?"

"Miguel was at the front desk this morning. But he went home sick. Stomach problems." He mimes clutching his belly.

Justice mutters something under his breath that I'm pretty sure isn't flattering.

"Look," I try again, "my brother just had surgery. He shouldn't be walking around. If he left, someone must have seen him."

The guard flips through some papers on his clipboard, seemingly disinterested. "I don't know, señor. People leave all the time. Against medical advice."

Allison sighs in frustration. "This is ridiculous. We need to?—"

"Wait." I put my hand on her arm. "Let's at least get a copy of the visitor log. Maybe there's something there."

The guard nods, reaching for a thick binder on his desk. As he flips it open, he says, "I need the patient name again?"

"Adam Hart," Justice says.

The guard runs his finger down a page. "No visitors logged for Señor Hart."

"That can't be right," I say. "We were just with him earlier."

He shrugs. "Maybe you didn't sign in."

“We did.” He doesn’t need to know we also used Aliases for at least part of our names.

"Check for anyone else suspicious," Allison says. "Anyone who didn't specify which patient they were visiting."

"That would be..." He flips a few more pages. "Many people, señora."

Justice leans over the desk. "Look, man, we just need something to go on here."

The guard glances up, annoyed, then freezes. He's looking at Allison with new interest.

"I just remembered," he says slowly. "There was a man asking for someone at reception. An American woman."

Allison perks up. "Who?"

"I didn't hear a name." He pauses, studying her face. "But wait... You are Allison, yes?"

I tense immediately. The urge to insert myself physically between the man and her has my fist clenching.

Allison looks equally startled. "What? No, I'm?—"

"I heard him call you that," the guard says, pointing to me.

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