Claire and Lexa peeled off their black cat suits to reveal more normal clothes underneath. Now they were dressed like nerdy office workers who for some reason felt the need to come in at the weekend and work in the middle of the night on some important project. If they were caught walking around the building on an internal CCTV camera then, hopefully, no one would think twice about them. The black outfits folded up neatly into the small bags they were carrying.
The floor below boasted nothing more exciting than a series of large open plan offices at which an army of computers sat idly, albeit with a few partitioned off rooms no doubt for local managers. Again the walls were festooned with pictures of Sigismund Grieg, both photographs and what appeared also to be reproductions of painted portraits. His luxurious moustache seemed to follow Claire and Lexa around the rooms. They satisfied themselves that, as with the floor above, there was no space for a hidden room on the floor where Ryan might be secreted. So they moved on to the floor below. Which was almost identical to the one above it. The only difference here was that there was some young guy (with a moustache, obviously), working at one of the computers. Some sad fucker with nothing better to do on a Saturday night than work on computer software, thought Lexa. Something similar crossed Claire's mind. They waved at him listlessly. He waved back and went back to his coding. Claire and Lexa then tried to appear like they were looking in the room for someone else and then left as though they were doing so because they had not seen whoever it was they were looking for. What they had ascertained was that this floor, like the ones above it, did not appear to have anything that looked like a hidden room.
So they went down again, to the first floor. The layout was different here. This seemed to be where the company had its meeting rooms and cafeteria. There was more to check here, but Lexa and Claire were able to move through it quickly. There was nothing unusual here either, though Claire did help herself to a small cake in the kitchen – stress situations always made her hungry.
Downwards they went, to the ground floor. Lexa led the way here as her visit in to meet the man from Human Potential had given her some sense of the layout here. She steered Claire away from the reception area – if there was anywhere that would have security guards still on duty then that would be it. It was also somewhere not really worth checking, as a secret holding area for prisoners is not something you would want adjacent to the main entrance, somewhere that almost by definition is the most public part of any building. What was more interesting was the back of the building, as the homeless guy had told them that someone who was possibly Ryan had been brought in through a rear entrance there. They moved as quietly as possible in that direction, albeit in a manner that was meant to look normal and unsuspicious to anyone catching a glimpse of them on a CCTV screen. When they found the rear entrance, they were not surprised to find that it was closed and locked, looking like it might be alarmed. But what made them think they had hit the jackpot was finding a small door beside it leading downward – a separate stairwell down rather than the main stairwell in the central shaft. This would be an ideal way to bring someone down into a hidden underground area without having to go through areas of the building where prying eyes might be encountered. If there was a secret dungeon then this surely was the way down to it.
They went through the door and followed the stairs down. Somewhere at the back of her mind Lexa wondered why a stairwell leading to a secret dungeon would be accessible through an unlocked door. She chose not to dwell on this anomalous thought.
The stairs went down. And down. And down and down. They lost track of how many steps they took, but they felt certain that they were now down lower than the level of the car park. Then the steps stopped and another door opened out into a corridor. They gingerly stepped through and moved down away from the stairwell. Doors opened off the corridor, and another faced them at its end. They crept along, unsure whether to go for the one at the end or the ones along the way.
The first door they tried opened into a darkened room. Claire went first, but she was unable to find a light switch. Thinking that this might be something of importance, she turned on her torch and gestured at Lexa to follow. They moved into the room, which was bare apart from another door at the other end. A quick play of the torch beam over the wall suggested that it lacked even the customary portrait of Sigismund Grieg. They moved through to the other door. Claire opened the door, carefully. It led into another darkened room. She played her torch over it carefully. It was as bare as the one they were in now. Again there was no sign of a light switch. Again there was no picture of Grieg. And again there was a door on the other side of the room from their doorway.
They moved carefully into this room too… but when they were in its middle the light on the ceiling suddenly sprang into life, drenching them with harsh, blinding light. Their hands instinctively went to cover their eyes, but they were not so disoriented that they did not hear the sound of feet pounding on the floor behind them. Though half blinded by the sudden brightness they could just about see the door ahead of them open. A man came through it – a man with a moustache. A man they had seen before, but only in photographs and portraits.
"Sigismund Grieg?" said Claire, uncomprehendingly.
"The very same", said Sigismund Grieg. "And you must be Claire Maguire and Lexa Hackett? You're a bit later than I expected. Please, come this way. It's a bit early for breakfast, but I'm sure you must be famished".
Claire and Lexa hesitated, unsure what to do. Should they try to retreat back the way they came – back in the direction from which they had heard footsteps approach? Or should they try desperately to attack Grieg, in the hope of catching him off balance?
Grieg seemed to sense their indecision. "Please ladies, I advise against any awkward moves you may come to regret. Your options are at this point somewhat limited. I don't mean to be impolite, but a glance behind you might give you some sense of your circumstances".
Claire and Lexa looked over their shoulders. The room from which they had come was now full of tough looking men with moustaches. The two women realised there were pistols trained on them by the ones in the doorway.
Grieg smiled again. "I know what you're thinking now. Given your training, you are contemplating doing something daring like perhaps throwing yourself to the floor suddenly in the hope that the fellows behind you will open fire, miss you, and instead take me out. But I urge you not to do that. I would not be so foolish as to meet you now if I was not wearing a bullet-proof jacket. You may also be thinking of trying to jump me yourself before my colleagues here can take you down. Again, that would be most unwise. These rooms are triggered so that on my voice command a nerve gas will be released into the room – a designer nerve gas fatal to all human beings, save for one person whose genetic markers make him immune to its charms. Can you guess who that person is, ladies? I'll give you a clue – it's not any of the chaps behind you, and it's neither of you two either".
"Alright Grieg, you win", said Claire, not exactly holding her hands up but certainly keeping them where they were clearly visible.
"You win for now, anyway", said Lexa.
"Oh I like you", said Grieg. "I had always heard that you Irish women were feisty".
Lexa glowered back at him. She would like to show him just how feisty she could be.
Grieg continued to smile in that smug and self-satisfied manner of his. "Oh don't be like that, Ms Hackett". He beckoned her and Claire to follow him into the room in whose doorway he stood. "This way please. I think it is about time we got to know each other a bit better". He backed into the room.
"I think you should follow Mr Grieg", said one of the armed men behind them.
"I think so too", said Claire.
"In the absence of any better options I feel I must agree", said Lexa.
They went into the room after Grieg, with the armed men following at a polite distance. Grieg was seated at a table on which a variety of pastries, bagels, breads and cereals were laid out, together with jugs of orange juice and milk, and also what looked like flasks of coffee and pots of tea. Two more armed men stood politely in the corners of the room behind Grieg. And there were three more spaces set at the table. Grieg gestured to Claire and Lexa to sit down. Not really feeling like they had any choice in the matter, they both did, albeit not without wondering who the empty space was for.
"Please", said Grieg, "tuck in". As if to show them the way he grabbed a croissant and started to take bites from it.
"What is this, Mr Grieg?" asked Lexa. "Are you just trying to be Darth Vader or something?"
"Darth Vader?" said Grieg, adopting a faux-hurt tone of voice.
"You know, with the food and the guys with guns standing around us. It is a bit Empire Strikes Back, isn't it?"
"I suppose it is a bit like that" Grieg responded, "but the truth is that I wanted to see you myself and get your measure, but I didn't know how long it would be before you arrive and I always get very hungry when I'm waiting, so I thought I would make sure to have a little something ready for when you did arrive. And I thought, I bet they'll be hungry too, what with all the stress and everything, so why don't we all have an early breakfast while we get to know each other. So please, have something – you both look like you're hungry".
"Given that you have us at your mercy, Mr Grieg", said Claire, "I think it is safe to say that the things you have here are not poisoned, so I will help myself to a bite". She piled some pastries onto a plate. "And I'll have some coffee too. And orange juice". She poured herself drinks into a cup and glass respectively.
Lexa did likewise. But both she and Claire remained guarded. This was not a good situation to be in.
"I really was beginning to think that I would never have the pleasure of your company", said Grieg, before taking a bite out of a pain-au-chocolat. "My people were meant to bring you here earlier today, which I think would have been better for everyone, really. I mean, it would have been so easier to have this conversation in the early evening rather than the middle of the night, don't you think? But my fellows disappointed me somewhat, so I had to hope that you would come here of your own volition. And you did".
Claire swallowed the last of the Danish pastry she was eating and washed it down with a swig of coffee. "Look Grieg, what's this all about?"
"What's what all about?"
"This! All of this! These people with guns. The attempt to kidnap us earlier today. What are you up to? What are you trying to do? And what have you done with our colleague?"
"Ah", said Grieg. "You mean your colleague Mr Ryan?"
Claire and Lexa looked back at him awkwardly, still unsure as to how much Grieg knew and how much information they should concede to him.
"Our colleague", said Lexa. "The one who was abducted from the Cartwright Friendly. The one we understand to have been brought here in one of your vans. What have you done with him?"
"There's no great secret", answered Grieg. "In fact, it might be handiest if he told you himself". He turned to one of the armed men behind him. "Could you ask Mr Ryan to join us?"
"Yes Mr Grieg". He went out through another door.
"He'll be here presently", said Grieg. There was an awkward silence then, as Claire and Lexa had no idea how long they would have to wait. It turned out, though, that they did not have to wait for long. The guard came back with Ryan after less than five minutes, so they must have had him waiting in a nearby room.
"Hello Claire, Lexa" said Ryan as he walked into the room. He looked different from when they had seen him last. His grooming was better, for one thing. And he had a nicely pressed trousers and jumper outfit on. He no longer had the long hair he had been sporting the last few times they had seen him around the Organisation's office – his hair now was cut short in a neat and functional style. And the scratchy beard he had started growing when he had started investigating the strange music publication the Chief had given him, why that was gone too.
Ryan looked very different to when Claire and Lexa had seen him last, but it was not the clothes or the hair or the absence of a beard that now struck them. It was the moustache growing on his upper lip – a moustache just like that of all the other men working for Grieg, a moustache that was clearly an imitation of the facial hair of the great man himself. Claire and Lexa realised with horror that they were far far too late to even think of trying to rescue Ryan. He was one of them now.
26/11/2011
An inuit panda production
0 comments:
Post a Comment