by Dave Austin
"Five? It took me almost half an hour. I can't believe you fell asleep."
I looked back and Kendra also seemed to be waking up from a brief nap. We were surrounded by twice as many cars and there was already a line to get in. The sun had already said its farewell and the sky was darkening, with glowing lights popping up and tinting it yellow. There, as in our base, there was no pollution. The starry sky was not seen as a novelty, only as another night.
"Come on, let's go." Maggie repeated, "My father said he wanted to meet you."
"What did he want with you?" I asked her while I was putting on my shoes.
I straightened my clothes, pulled down the trouser sheath and made sure that the fabric in the shoulder area was not wrinkled.
"No big deal. He wanted to ask me what it was like to wear the glove and if I thought it needed any changes. Then he told me to be careful. It was weird. He’s never said that before."
"Do you think it has something to do with why we're here?" I asked her as I got out of the car and locked it up.
"Every time something like this happens, I believe that more, yes.”
"There's only one way to find out." Kendra said, already out of the car.
"I suppose so. Come with me. We don't need to be in the queue." Maggie told us.
We walked alongside the line until we got to security. We put our guns, including Maggie's glove, in one of the boxes that said "guns" and the cell phones in another that said "technology". We were given a key to open them and the boxes were thrown into a white bag that was almost full. One of the security guards, the same one who had pointed to the side, insisted on groping our pockets anyway, as well as under our arms and the sides of our bodies. His hands were thick and rough but neat. He didn't even leave a trace on the suit and concluded with a head nod and an invitation for us to come in.
"Let's go, let's go." Maggie said, and she was the first to come in, "Just clean your shoes when you come in."
I looked down and there was a brown carpet with already different fur colors, some of which were black, but I scrubbed the soles of my shoes on it. Maggie's house entrance was almost as big as my whole house. It had a crystal chandelier on the ceiling and two curved stairways to the top. It had a half-open door adorned with golden lines on the left and another all white and closed on the right.
"That's for people to store their coats, suitcases and stuff," she said, pointing to the left-hand door, "That's my dad's lab. Sometimes he spends hours there. I've heard screams and explosions and I'm pretty sure I heard other people once. Which is strange, because I've only been there four times and they were all because of the glove." She told us, also serving as a guide. After all, it was her house.
We went up the stairs to the second floor. We followed her along the long right-side corridor, the walls covered with a satin red lining and several family paintings even of relatives who were no longer alive. Then we turned left. The walls there were totally the opposite. While the previous ones were a celebration of several generations of Maggie's family, there it was a massage for her father's ego; dozens of pictures of his face, others with him holding on to some prize and by his side the bound rewards.
She bowed her head, perhaps embarrassed, but said only three words, "It's that door."
I still stopped by to see some paintings up close. I recognized her father's name, but I had no idea how many awards he'd already won. There were dozens of him, from his 20's with hair as blond as Maggie's, to the present days, already with 57, the strands of toasted yellow hair and a few whites unveiling among them. He remained in shape. He had long shoulders, suits that fit on his body and emphasized his muscular silhouette.
We were near the white door, with precise blue contours from one end to the other and flowery in the corner, when a couple left. They were already drunk, zigzagging and tripping over each other's feet. He kissed her face and she filled her cheeks with air. They were both wearing dresses, although his was dirty near his chest, since he spat every time he spoke. They waved as soon as they saw Maggie and told her that her father had asked about her. She thanked them and wished them a good party.
"You know everyone here." Kendra told him.
"Most of the guests are regulars." Maggie said, putting her hand on the doorknob, "Their parents are some of the biggest shareholders in my father's company."
She opened the door and we entered a vast ballroom, several candlesticks on the ceiling, tables with white towels at the opposite end of the room, and the rest of the space open for dancing. In a corner, a man changed the music, by reading what his audience wanted. Several couples, some young and some old, danced with their hands on each other's hips and shoulders. We had not yet taken more than 10 steps forward when a loud voice called her. The three of us looked to the right where her father was coming from, his footsteps echoing through the fragile wooden floor.
"Oh, Oh, so these are your adventure buddies?" The man asked, laughing and belittling us. Maggie was right about one thing, he did have something that caught the eye. One eye of each color; the one on the right was green and the one on the left was blue.
"Father..." She started, her voice was low as if she was afraid to face him, "We're a group of Hunters... Not children playing monster hunting."
"Yes, yes. I take it that my glove helped you a lot, didn't it? It's good. It will be even better when my daughter finally manages to control it at 100%," he said, but none of us answered his question, "I'm sorry. I didn't even introduce myself properly. I'm her father. You may know me by name, Archibald Lenetius, the owner of Lenetius Enterprises. Maybe you've even seen the name of my company announced under some of the weapons used by the top Hunters." He said and smiled, the tip of his lips bending strangely, so much so that he was struggling to maintain a smile.
He stepped forward and held Kendra's hand, kissing her palm. She frowned her nose and forehead but didn't draw her hand back. She did what she could to seem interested. Then he stretched out his hand and we shook hands and, as Maggie had said, he squeezed hard enough till my bones snapped. He had a very characteristic smell; a mixture of lavender and gunpowder. I assumed he'd been messing with guns and perfumed himself to disguise it.
"Oops, sorry. I forget that sometimes people can't stand a strong greeting." He said, and laughed again, the voice surpassing the music, "Well, I've got important people waiting for me. Enjoy yourselves. There's plenty of good music and great food."
He left us and walked towards some men who had just arrived. One of them had a silver suitcase in his hand, handcuffed to his arm, and they all had gray suits and sunglasses covering half their faces even though we were inside the house. Maggie's father stood in front of them, hiding them from whoever looked at them, and placing his hand on the shoulder of one of the five men, leading them to an emergency exit in one of the corners.
"Where does it lead to, that exit?" I asked Maggie.
"It's a staircase that leads to the first floor. My father's office is behind the stairs we climbed, just a few steps away. Do you think they'll go there now?"
"I think so." I answered her, but I couldn't be more wrong.
Her father opened the door for the men, waited for everyone to enter and closed it behind them. He returned to the party, greeting those with whom he had not yet spoken, always with a smile on his face. We didn't know exactly what was happening, but we decided to act as if everything was fine and dance together. Kendra told us to get going while she rested her feet a little.
Maggie and I went to the center of the room. I put my hands on her wide hips and she laid her hands on my shoulders. We swung our bodies, dancing to the sound of the music; a woman playing the harp and a high-pitched male voice on top. Nobody noticed us. They were more interested in dancing or indulging in conversations with people as wealthy as themselves.
Another group of five men came in. This time they all had red hair, three of them with beards up to their chests and two without beards, but all five of them had metal chains on their wa
istbands. They stood in the entrance and waited for Maggie's father to see them. He shook their hands, and, as before, led them to the door, opened it, and closed it after they had entered.
"What the hell is going on?" I asked Maggie, even though I knew she probably didn't have an answer, "Will someone else do the business?"
"No. My father likes to have control over everything. He would never let anyone else handle his business. Maybe not all the groups have arrived yet?"
"That must be it. Sure." I told her. I couldn't shake off the idea that something wasn't consistent with our plan and with our information, "Did you recognize any of them?
"Not really. I've never seen them before." She answered me and moved closer to me.
She leaned her face against my chest, and we danced. When I looked down, I could see that some tears were running down her face. She closed her eyes and struggled to hide them, but her skin was wet, and her eyes did not keep any secrets. I massaged the back of her head and whispered in her ear that everything would be fine.
Kendra came up to us, "Look who just walked in."
We both looked at the door. A small, slender, black-haired man with bald spots at the front, wearing a purple suit that made him stand out. It was different than when I was on TV. He had trimmed his sideburns, shaved his beard, and the hairs on his eyebrows that almost covered his eyelids had vanished. And yet, there was no doubt who he was; John Shinner, one of the main speakers pro Hunters, who was also a member of the Hunter General Council. He was accompanied by two black, muscular, tall men in striped black suits. They were taken to the emergency exit. This time Maggie's father still had a few words with the man but didn't follow. He had barely closed the door when another group came in.
"Shit." I released it. The couple next to us heard me and squinted their eyes at me.
"Do you know them?" Kendra asked me.
"Yes, damn it. Elisa stole a letter from him with the date of the council meeting. And I... I helped her. They might remember me. I better move." I said, and I spun until I had my back to them, and Maggie had her eyes on them.
I was surprised that he was there, he was supposed to be on the council, but there was no mistake, it was him. Something strange was going on.
The albino was at the door and at his side the same two men who wished they'd kicked my ass. He scratched his white beard and sniffed his fingers. As opposed to the formality that her father showed to the other groups, this time he hugged him. A long hug with a pat on the back.
By the face that Maggie was making when she saw it, no doubt she had never seen him there before. Her father took the three men to the door while we pretended to dance. When he got there, he raised his arm and signaled to the man who was in control of the music.
He stopped the song and asked everyone for a minute of their time, " A big round of applause for all of you who are here. Let this be a night you won't forget." He said.
It would be weird if we were the only ones not clapping. So, we did. We got distracted for a moment and it was enough for her father to disappear with the albino.
"Shit. It was a distraction. How did we fall for this?" I asked. I was angry with myself. It was apparent what it was and yet I had let it slip through my fingers.
"Now what?" Maggie asked, looking at the door.
"Let's see if we can get in from there. If not, we have to go back to the first floor and find a way to get into the office without getting caught." I answered her and started walking towards the door.
"Good, sounds super easy." Kendra said, with sarcasm on the tip of her tongue.
I tried to open the door, but it didn't move an inch. There wasn't even a lock on our side.
"There used to be a lock here. My father must have taken it away." Maggie said, only after I'd been looking like a fool.
The truth is that we were all nervous and the fear of failure was causing us to make mistakes. It didn't take us long to realize that wasn't the way we were going to get in. We left the ballroom, crossed the same corridors as before and went down the stairs. There were still people coming and the security guards were still at the door. We followed Maggie to the back of the stairs, where another door gave us access to an even longer corridor with several doors on each side. The roof was arched and along the hall there were different statues, mostly busts of family people. A red carpet covered the floor from one end to the other. Maggie stopped at the third right side door and knocked on the door.
"What are you doing?" Kendra asked her.
"Seeing if anyone's here, right? Imagine us going in and having dozens of eyes on us."
"You're right. But no one seems to be there. They should be in the tunnels by now." Kendra said and leaned against one of the walls, "This thing about us not having guns with us sucks. We're vulnerable," she said, and her words couldn't have come at a worse time.
A waiter came through the door we had entered. He stared at us for a few seconds before he moved forward and asked us what we were doing there.
"I was just looking for my father. I assumed he was here." Maggie answered and smiled.
"I see. Still, you know your father hates being visited without warning." The man said. He had a machete in his hand and was wearing a black garment.
"I know, but it was important. Do you know where he might be?"
"I have no idea, but you have to get out of here now."
"What if she wants to stay here and wait for her father?" Kendra backfired.
"I will be forced to take you out of here forcefully." The man answered. He was entirely sure of himself. There was no trail of hesitation in his voice.
"I'd like to see you try." Kendra took another chance.
The man began to move closer to us. I knew what Kendra was doing. The further away he got from the door, the more chances we would have of disarming him and knocking him unconscious without him being able to call for help. In a space as wide as that, and with the music so loud, even if he shouted the most likely it was that his screams wouldn't be heard by anyone.
Suddenly, the man fell to the ground. The body bounced off once and then it didn't move anymore.
"Of course, you needed me to come," a single voice, as bitter as it was soft, depended on her mood, said.
"Elisa! You came!" Maggie was the first to say.
"I was not going to come, I really was. But then I remembered something James told me. We're a team and we have to work together."
"What about the attack on the council?" I asked her, holding back the happiness of her decision to show up.
"Everything stays the same. The only difference is that I won't be there."
She said, "So, what are we waiting for? Are we supposed to get in that door?" She said and took a pin out of her hair.
"Elisa, before that... There's something you need to know. The albino's here." I told her and watched the look on her face shift.
"Are you sure? That's weird. He should be on the council. Oh, shit. No. I hope nothing weird happens." She said and knelt in front of the door, trying to force the opening with the pin, "Don't worry. There's no door that can stop me."
And she was right. In a few minutes we heard the door unlock. She opened the door just enough to look inside and confirm that there was no one inside.
"What about him?" Maggie asked, pointing to the man still lying on the ground.
"We better bring him with us. I think I see a rope here. We can tie his arms. All that's missing is something for his mouth." Elisa answered her and opened the door for us to come in.
"I have an idea." Kendra said and tore a piece of the bottom of her dress, "Use this to cover his mouth. I can move better this way."
I carried the man to Maggie's father's office and put him up against the white wall. Elisa tied his hands behind his back with the thin black rope and made a knot in the back of his neck with the fabric of Kendra's dress, stuffing the man's mouth.
"Why the hell does your father have a rope in his office?" Kendra asked, and no one had to answer
to her to conclude, "Oh. I see. We better get going."
I hid my laughter and finally looked around. There was a mahogany table in front of us and behind it a window covered by two red curtains. Around the room, which was circular shaped, the upper part of the walls was covered with more pictures of him while the lower part had small closets with a few knockoffs of weapons that the company had produced and photos with Hunters using them. On the table there was an open dossier, with dozens of sheets wrapped in transparent paper, and a black felt pen on top of one of them. Maggie went near the table and sat in her father's padded chair, the kind that not only spins but also allows the back of the chair to be leaned over.
"I've always wanted to sit here." She said, before focusing on the open pages, "Hm, hm..." she murmured as her eyes sailed the pages.
"What does it say?" Kendra asked her.
"It's just company expenses. It says here that they spent millions producing weapons for Hunters, as they're supposed to, but then there's the letter R underneath it and it says that they spent millions on them, too. But that's not all. There are other letters here with expenses in the hundreds of thousands. I don't know what my father's into..."
"The R must be for Reapers. The rest of the letters... Well, we better watch out from now on." I told her. The secret door that Maggie had told us about and that gave access to the tunnels was right in front of me.
It didn't look like a door except for the dotted perforations around the white wall. It didn't even have a lock or a place to enter a code. There didn't seem to be any way in. I looked at Maggie, but she seemed lost in her thoughts.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Shit. We're really not lucky." Kendra said, "Maggie, wake up. Now what?" She said and clapped in front of Maggie's face.
"Yeah, I'm sorry." She said and stood up, walking to one of the paintings on the wall. It was the only one where she appeared. She must have been three, four years old at the most, and they were in the woods surrounding the house, having a picnic. Her mother was still alive and kissed her father's cheek. She pulled out the painting and put it down carefully on the floor, "The problem is, I don't know the code." She said.