She wandered around the room, past a giant plasma screen set on one wall, surrounded by cameras and sound equipment. Emma ran her fingers over the spines of the hundreds of books which filled the floor to ceiling bookcase, occupying the opposite wall of the rectangular room. On the opposite end to the door, Emma saw a table, its legnth almost the width of the room, covered in stacks of newpapers, arranged in some sort of grouping system. What the groups related to however, Emma couldn't understand. Finally, Emma moved towards the strangely beautiful, antique desk, covered in a fine, silk cloth. It looked odd surrounded by such mordern objects, thought Emma, yet it still fitted in. She wondered for a while where to start, her father was very old fashioned in storing his files and information,or so Emma thought, studying the filing cabinites, yet, soon, after pulling out the first few of endless sheets of printed paper from the cabinet closest to her, Emma realized that nearly all of the files would no doubt be saved in the computer's hard-drive. She smiled and flexed her fingers as she seated herself in the comfortable leather chair, Emma was a talented hacker, spending a lot of her time on her computer, she wanted to be a journalist when she grew up, like her father, and she'd realized that, compters were begining to become like keys into files after files of incriminating evidence.
Emma sat down and switched the computer on, almost instantly it whirred into life and she poised her fingers over the keyboard. Like most hackers, Emma despised the point-and-click sytem of a mouse, she prefered to instruct the comuter directly, in it's own language of patterns and codes. In a matter of minutes, Emma's blurring fingers had bypassed her father's passwords and acces codes and al;l the files he had ever opened were listed in front of her; Political expenses scandal- Emma had seen her father's work on that already, in the papers, Where is Maddie- the Madaline McCann mystery had been given to her father for live coverage, he had gone away for weeks. Scanning through the list, Emma recognised all of the files as news articles that her father had researched and written. She reached the end of the list, and pounded the desk in despair. It clicked. Emma frowned, suprised and looked down at where she'd just hit the table. Looking closer, using the light from the computer, Emma realised that there was a slight groove about twenty-five centimeters long, in the midde of the desk, between the top and the edge closest to her. She searched around herself excitedly, looking desperately for some sort of switch to open it, she felt her way along the underside of the desk and found it, pressing upwards there was another, louder click, and this time the 25cm center part of the side of the desk, nearest the chair, flipped neatly down, exposing a hollow space, the perfect hiding place for the large, black, ring-binder folder, placed inside it.