by Ronda Pauley
The massive construction of the building dwarfed Abbi who, at five-four, felt small and insignificant in its shadow. She waited with Louise as workers finished removing the tape. Finally, investigators left the building, allowing the girls to enter.
Abbi had strict instructions to follow, procedures, false identity and a script given to her by a familiar but mysterious woman who did not want her true identity or her relationship to Abbi to be known. She was to be called Mrs. Hightower.
Marble steps led up to the portico. Abbi and Louise, still outside, climbed the few steps up to the large brass doors. Then they sat down as if trying to take it all in. Above them, along the roofline, they read the engravings of the member states. Abbi turned around to look up at the colorful flags of the western hemisphere as they swayed high in the sky against a backdrop of gathering clouds.
The brass doors were open but the entrance remained heavily guarded.
Abbi noticed that Louise glanced at a window to catch her reflection.
“You’re fine. I’d hire you,” Abbi said with a quick grin. “Watch for GK.”
“Abbi, you think I don’t know. But I think I’ve figured out who Gate Keeper is. You don’t have to be so secretive with me,” Louise said, chiding her. “Anyway, my parents are in town and I want to call them before we go in.”
“Be patient. We need to park our butts inside here until GK contacts us, and the fewer people who know the better. And please don’t say his name.”
Abbi straightened her sleek overly-large skirt that was bunched up at the waist and adjusted her necklace.
“Do I look old enough?” she asked as she poofed her blonde wig and allowed herself a moment of doubt. At sixteen Abbi could easily pass for twelve or fourteen, not something most girls want. She wanted to pass for twenty-four. She hoped the clothes and the makeup carried off passing for twenty.
“Twenty-two or -three, maybe,” Louise said. She flicked some lint off her own skirt.
“Sure I do. So do you,” Abbi said, only Louise really did. Then, with determination, she added, “Let’s do this thing.”
The girls picked up their briefcases and went into the building through the heavy brass-clad doors that opened up to the massive lobby. Ahead they saw a curved marble stairway, still roped off in caution tape because of the early morning bomb attempt. A heavy woman in a security uniform blocked their entrance to the rest of the building.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave,” she said. “Unless you have state business and I see suitable identification.”
Abbi flashed an official-looking badge and the woman let her pass--but not before scrutinizing her I.D. carefully, passing the security wand over her, checking her handbag and briefcase, and asking a few questions. The contents of the briefcase raised an eyebrow, but the security guard closed up the briefcase without comment.
“Who are you here to see?”
“That information is most confidential. We have a very sensitive situation here. Let’s just say I’ve been summoned by someone on a higher government payscale than yours.”
“That’s not funny.” Turning to Louise to avoid any further interaction with Abbi, the woman said, “And you, Miss?”
“Oh, Mademoiselle Soufflé is with me,” said Abbi, blurting in quickly. “If you need it, I have a memorandum here for you.”
The security officer took the note, looked at it briefly and handed it back to Abbi without looking at her.
“I’ll still need to check you, Miss,” the security officer said to Louise.
Louise, used to this routine, handed over her own empty briefcase for inspection, the contents having been removed and placed in Abbi’s, and raised her arms for the security wand.
“You’re good,” the security officer said. “You apparently need a lot of maps.”
“Just in case,” Abbi blurted in. In case of what, she didn’t know. “What can you tell me about the offices? Have most of them closed for the day?”
“The Venezuelan staff has not returned. They went to an early lunch. The others are back up and running.”
“We’re supposed to wait in the lobby until the Venezuelan delegate comes for us,” Abbi lied. “Would you mind if we sit over here in the conservatory?”
“They may not be returning, but you can wait. Anywhere that isn’t roped off is fine,” the security guard said.
“Thank you,” Abbi said, happy they were through with that.
Abbi moved out of the security guard’s earshot and called Shoe Clerk.
“Was this a set-up or what? We’re in the building, but there was a bomb attempt here. GK is nowhere around. Now what?”
“He’s been delayed. If someone doesn’t come in 15 minutes, call me back,” Shoe Clerk said.
The girls moved toward an isolated area of lofty palm trees at the center of the lobby. The hope was that this would give them a vantage point but keep them out of the traffic. Abbi could see inspectors loading up camera equipment into a small motorized cart along with bags of evidence they had collected. These inspectors were preparing to leave the building.
Gate Keeper was still nowhere around.
A bench that was situated under the palm trees but near the stairway gave them a place to rest while they waited.
Louise slid one shoe off and rubbed her foot.
“I think I’m getting a blister,” she said.
“Get over it,” Abbi said. Then she reached into her briefcase. “Here,” she added, handing Louise a small bandage mechanically.
“I forgot you’re a walking first-aid kit,” Louise said. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” Abbi said unconsciously. Thoughts of her mother’s safety occupied Abbi’s mind.
‘Know what you want. Picture it,’ her mother would say. ‘That’s the first step toward getting it.’
She pictured her mother safe and well.
“Things had better go smoothly,” Abbi said.
From their vantage point, the girls watched. These trees, towering over them, draped and sheltered them while large potted plants with pink and yellow blossoms engulged them. Abbi and Louise remained relatively secluded, and Abbi waited for Louise’s older brother to appear. After the people loaded up all the equipment, a security team escorted the investigators out of the building.
“Just call him,” Louise said.
“I would if I could but I can’t so I won’t,” Abbi said with a twisted smile.
Then, without warning, Abbi was witness to a scene that would play over and over in a succession of nightly bad dreams.
To their right and barely within sight, Abbi saw the figure of a thin young man, perhaps not much older than herself. He looked hungry. He entered the building and successfully passed by the security guard through the metal detector.
Feeling his gaze seek her out, Abbi looked directly into his eyes and saw hatred, cold hollow hatred. It was a gaze she had never really seen before. A chill came over her and she wiped her hands down her arms to relax the goosebumps.
The man’s mannerisms looked robotic. His face, intense. Abbi tried not to stare. Shivers continued to run down her spine. She wondered if a man could be so evil as to have no soul. He gave Abbi a look of intense hatred. After that, the man seemed to look through her. Instantly she sensed why he was there.
The man glanced at his cell phone. Suddenly, he clutched his belly. A look of panic controlled his face. He ran past the bench where Abbi and Louise sat and then continued toward the widely curving staircase that led to meeting rooms on the next floor.
In the corner of her eye Abbi caught the security guard putting her hand on her gun and then yell, “Stop!”
If the security guard shot her gun, Abbi and Louise would be in the line of fire. Abbi hopped off the granite bench and pulled Louise down to the floor with her. She gathered up their briefcases into a makeshift kind of fort, knowing that it offered no protection at all, and scooted under the bench as much as she could, pulling Louise in with her.
From some
where a phone sounded. Abbi looked back at the man. It was his phone! The man turned toward Abbi and had a confused, contorted face. Instantly, a horrible moaning sound emitted from within him. A brief delay followed, then a muffled blast. The man slumped onto the second step of the stairway, eviscerated, his insides spilling out and trickling down onto the marble step.
Abbi fainted.
FORTY-TWO
Tina returned to her bedroom and fell into a feverish sleep. She woke up a couple of times when her father tried to get her to drink something.
“You have to try, Tina. You’re sick.” He raised her up to give her a sip of a soft drink. “You’ll be glad to know I was able to get that computer delivered!”
“Thanks, Daddy!” Tina said.
Tina tried the softdrink and then pushed it away.
“I’m hot and I’m cold. I just want to sleep.”
Her father lightly pinched the back of her hand.
“You’re getting more dehydrated, not enough fluids. Try.”
He held out her drink. Tina took another sip.
“I am trying!” she said. “I’m dizzy and I have this awful headache. If I drink more, I’ll just throw up.”
“Don’t go back to sleep yet. Try to drink as much as you can. Do you think you can handle another cracker?”
“Sure! But I’ll get the crumbs in my bed!”
“I care about you. I don’t care about crumbs in the bed.”
“Will I be able to use the computer in here?”
“You should be able to, but don’t do the social media scene. You won’t, will you?”
“Why would I do that? I want to look up this disease, and see what I should be doing.”
“Start with drinking more. Clear things. I have broth and a lime gelatin. Do those sound good?”
“How’d you do that?”
“Remember, I picked them up at the drugstore when I got your medicine.”
“My head is hazy. I just forgot.”
“Wait here. I’ll get you set up. You can download a movie once I get our account established, but this identity thing will hold that up a few days, I think. I’ll probably need a credit card.”
“It’s OK, Daddy. I don’t plan to be awake long.”
She closed her eyes for a moment while her father brought her more crackers and mustard. When she opened her eyes, he was bringing in the laptop.
“Remember what I said.”
“Of course, Daddy!”
“This isn’t fancy but it will serve the purpose. I got the student model, and it will work pretty well with music. Not so much on games.”
Tina tried to eat the cracker but was afraid it would gag her.
“I don’t play video games much anyway,” she said. “And I can’t eat the cracker.”
“See what you can drink. Want some broth?”
“If it isn’t too much trouble, I’ll try,” she said. Tina still felt hot and cold, shivery, yet sweating. “You won’t get sick too, will you?”
Her father was already in the kitchen. He yelled back, “I shouldn’t. I got my shots for it at my old job. Stupid of me not to see that you had all of yours. I’m trying to be a better father.”
“I know,” Tina said quietly. Then she murmured, “I love you, Daddy.”
“Don’t worry about a thing. I’m right here. Let me know if you learn anything new that we should try.”
“I’m pretty tired, Daddy. Maybe I’ll do it later.”
After he brought in the broth, her father set the computer nearby and left her alone to try to eat more. He checked to see how often to give her medicine.
“You’re good to go! Hit your glass with your spoon if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Daddy!” Tina said as her father closed the door.
Instead of trying to eat and drink, Tina sat up straight on the bed and pulled the computer onto her lap. Signing in as GUEST on this new computer, she immediately went to her old social networking page and sent a message.
“I know what U were doing, Gopher. How many other girls have U sold? It’s gonna catch up w U.”
Tina logged off and set the computer aside, ready for sleep. She would see him imprisoned. For the rest of his life. Gopher and then Ramon and then others.
Some hours later her father knocked on the door.
“It’s Mrs. Hightower on the phone. Do you feel like talking?”
Tina had been in and out of a restless sleep. Not able to get comfortable. Not able to get enough to drink.
“I’m awake,” she said.
Her father brought the phone in.
“You’re burning up,” he said. “This can wait. We’ve got to get you to the hospital.”
“I’m afraid she’s too sick,” he said to Mrs. Hightower.
“No! Let me talk to her!” Tina said.
Her father hung up.
“Please! If I die, they won’t be able to get the other girls. There are lots of them! Call her back. I know things. I want to talk.”
“Sweetie, go back to sleep,” he said, but before he could close the door Tina started getting sick again.
“That does it. We’re going to the hospital.”
He grabbed a shopping bag and bent over to help her.
“Let’s get you to the bathroom,” he said.
“Call her back,” Tina said.
“I’m calling the squad.”
“Am I dying?” she asked.
“Not on my watch, Baby,” her father said.
He reported her illness to the dispatcher. “Hurry!” he said.
Tina struggled to get to the bathroom where she washed up and cleaned her hair that had gotten in the way.
“Do I smell bad?” she asked, poking her head out the door.
“You’re fine. The squad will be here right away. Are you able to leave the bathroom now?”
“Daddy, Daddy, I think I’m dying,” Tina said.
FORTY-THREE
Security personnel who had left the building just moments before came running back into the lobby. Abbi crawled out from under the bench and sat up, still on the floor. She tried to regain composure. Her eyes and ears didn’t seem to work right.
Louise crouched beside her near a potted plant.
Abbi couldn’t think. Her head had a swirling sensation.
“Louise? You OK? What just happened?” Abbi asked. Her voice sounded odd to her and she noticed a faint humming.
“It was awful! That man was killed! He must have been shot,” said Louise, urgently continuing. “I think you passed out for a minute. Are you OK?”
“What? Shot?” Abbi asked, shaking her head. She only heard part of what Louise had said and the part she heard didn’t make sense against what she saw. Abbi faced Louise to read her lips.
“Yeah, shot.”
“No, he wasn’t shot,” Abbi insisted, speaking louder than she should.
Then she noticed a spot of blood on Louise’s chin.
“Dang! Are you sure you’re OK?” Abbi asked in alarm.
She touched Louise’s face to rub off the blood and stopped when she realized it was not Louise’s blood.
“Oh no!” Abbi said in a hushed tone. “It’s his!”
“Get it off me!” Louise whispered.
Abbi took a small bottle out of her briefcase and poured a generous amount of antiseptic cleanser onto a tissue to wipe Louise’s cheek. Afterward, she threw the tissue into a planter and said, “Yuck!”
She wiped her hands vigorously on her jacket. Then they checked each other all over to see if there was more blood on their clothes.
No, not a gunshot, Abbi thought. It seemed to be an internal explosion from the
man’s stomach.
The two girls hugged, thankful they were alive.
Abbi looked at the man on the stairs. Odd smells filled the air, smells she couldn’t identify and didn’t want to breathe. The staircase railing had been damaged, the lower portion of the balustrade shattered.
The strange
, woozy fainting sensation returned and Abbi wobbled when she tried to get up. Her ears still hummed. She really didn’t like the smell. She was afraid she was getting sick. Louise steadied her.
“We’re not in Kansas anymore. Are we Toto?” Abbi asked.
“You doin’ OK?” Louise asked, with a nervous laugh. Suddenly, in her natural dramatic flare, she yelled, “We have to get out of here!”
Abbi’s head, like cotton candy forming in its machine, had a swirling sensation as if her brains were spinning, taking new shape.
“Do your brains feel funny?” she asked Louise.
“I’ve felt better,” Louise answered. “And my ears are ringing. We shouldn’t be here.”
“How can you say that?!”
“I mean right here. Can’t you see we’re in the way?” Louise asked.
A text message appeared on both girls’ cell phones.
“CHANGE OF PLANS. WAIT THERE. SOMEONE WILL SEE YOU.”
“Oh, if he only knew!” Louise said. “What do you suppose GK has cooked up?”
“He probably knows something about this. Better tell him we’re OK,” Abbi said.
“But are we?” Louise asked.
Abbi abruptly stood up, despite the dizziness, not yet fully aware but determined to focus on their mission. She tried not to wobble. Her sluggish mind, in a pseudo dream-state, prevented her from thinking and acting normally. She fell back to the floor, feeling really sick. Louise leaned over her.
“Let me have her, Mademoiselle!” said a voice, both familiar and soothing.
Abbi focused on the large black man in his high-dollar suit. The fog in her mind gave way to recognition. And then she vomited, barely missing his shoes.
“Big Sam!” Louise called. “She needs you!”
Even in her sick fog, Abbi was surprised to see Big Sam. She slurred her words, sounding drunk when she said, “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“It looks to me like the little lady needs a doctor!” Big Sam said. “And maybe you do too, Miss.”