The wisp of grey smoke rose from the charred console, drawing Kincaid and Sterling closer to the desk. While Kincaid muttered, tapping at the dead keys, Sterling turned away to reach for a wall communicator.
Connor seized the moment. He slipped from behind the bookcase, keeping his footsteps silent on the plush carpet. He navigated the short distance to the double doors, slid through the small opening, and pulled the oak door shut with a gentle click.
He hurried down the carpeted hallway, bypassing the security cameras by blending into a group of guests carrying crystal flutes of sparkling wine. His fingers curled around the portable lens in his pocket, damp with cold perspiration.
He bypassed the ballroom, slipping out toward the glass-walled observation deck where he had agreed to meet Leo.
