Minions

by Addison, Garrett

  “I did. I researched myself, and that only compounded my concern that this mightn’t be entirely legal.”

  “What’s wrong?” said Lori. “All that information’s available somewhere. This just brings it all together.”

  “But financial records and conversation transcripts? Come on.”

  “It’s all legal, end of story,” said Lori. “Perhaps one day I’ll help you prove it.”

  Devlin accepted the rebuke and settled in for more reading, but the next message was from a man who’d lost his family to a drunk driver. The man held no regrets and he was confident that his wife and young children knew he loved them, but how he longed for another hour, another day, another family embrace. Devlin entered this man’s sorrow and noted a distinct air of finality in the message. After discussing it with Lori, he flagged the message with a suicide protocol. While Lori didn’t even reach for another tissue, Devlin temporarily found himself lost in this man’s sadness and decided a little fresh air might help.

  What began as a short stroll on the street became a lap of the block after deliberately changing direction to avoid Conrad, hovering outside LastGasp’. Curious about Albert, he decided to pay him a quick visit.

  It had been a warm sunny day and evaporation had removed the puddles of urine, but the smell remained just as strong as ever. Albert sat on a milk crate looking as if tranced by an afternoon sunbeam and he stood as he heard Devlin approach. “I hope you brought the coffee.”

  “Hi Albert, remember me?” Despite what Ikel had said, he couldn’t help but speak in a slightly condescending manner. He couldn’t shift his belief that the old man could not possibly be sober and tolerate the smell.

  “Of course I remember. The new guy’s come to chat with Albert,” he said mockingly. “What do you want?”

  Both Lori and Ikel had painted Albert as a ‘salt of the earth’, but likeable, if not aromatic, old guy. Devlin had assumed that friendliness would be part of the package, but immediately he felt he’d made a bad assumption. He floundered to recover ground. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that! I just thought…”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m just fucking with you,” Albert snickered to himself. “Ikel’s already told me all about you. So is this a social call, or do you want something?”

  “Well actually I just came out for some fresh air and to say hello. Ikel and Lori said you were good for a chat, so I guess I came to see for myself.”

  Albert nodded before breaking into a deep, chesty cough. He held up his hand as if to indicate that the interruption was nothing out of the ordinary and that it would pass. Devlin took the opportunity to look around the car-park, the heavy smell of ammonia biting into the back of his throat. He naturally attributed Albert’s coughing episode to the smell, and sub-consciously at first, then physically began to cough himself, though not to the convulsive degree that Albert was experiencing.

  Finally, Albert composed himself and returned to a normal breathing pattern. With bloodshot eyes, he started talking once more. “Tell me the truth. Was it a rapist, a sinner’s rant or someone who should be on a suicide watch?”

  Devlin was initially puzzled at the question before he twigged at what Albert was asking. “The latter. Poor guy lost his family to some drunk.”

  Albert nodded. “Don’t worry, I won’t write you off as the sentimental type just yet.” He sat himself back down on his crate and picked at something between his toes. “How are you settling in? They’re a good crowd up there.”

  “I’m getting there, just getting to know the ropes at the moment. Ikel and Lori are certainly nice. And David, well he’s a bit moody for my liking.”

  Albert nodded knowingly, fidgeting and looking around the car-park. “I’d offer you a seat, but I’ve only got one crate.”

  “That’s OK. I’ve got to get back anyway,” Devlin figured that his visit had come to a natural conclusion. “Can I bring you anything when next I visit?”

  “I’m not a charity. Just your company and a chat would be nice.” Albert smiled deeply, adding, “Though feel free to bring a snack if you like.” He started to laugh, but the laugh quickly degraded into another coughing episode. He waved Devlin off, indicating that he needn’t wait around to close out their conversation.

  As Devlin returned to the office, Conrad was brazen in his effort to engage him, waiting on the footpath directly in front of LastGasp’, but Devlin just ignored him and pushed past. He almost felt obliged to buy the guy a coffee, if only for his persistence.

  It was apparent as soon as Devlin entered the building that the mood was different, but it took some time to identify exactly what was wrong. Instead of what had previously been a casual work environment, he was met with a decidedly hostile atmosphere. Initially, it seemed that he’d interrupted some heated debate between Glen and David, but not a word was spoken between them as soon as they had company. Whatever the cause, the mood did not improve with Devlin’s entry, or even the subsequent arrival of Ikel and Lori from the bunker. David soon stormed from the building, leaving Glen to make light of the situation.

  Despite his best efforts, Glen could not mask a tension that remained long afterwards. Everyone else had adjourned to the bunker, but not a word was spoken among them. There was no idle banter, no passionate discussion about a message flagging, or even subjective conversation about a potential sender identification.

  Glen made an appearance in the bunker and made an announcement. “David is leaving.” He silenced the volley of questions that ensued, particularly from Lori and Ikel, and continued. “He’s got his reasons, but it’s his call and that’s OK.” He left the bunker immediately.

  Devlin was slow to embrace complete deference to Glen. He was beginning to understand why Ikel and the others thought so highly of him, but he was not so easily silenced. He followed Glen from the bunker intent on finding out more and intercepted him in the kitchen. “Can I talk to you about David and why he’s going?”

  “I’ve already said all that needs to be said on the matter. David’s history.” There was nothing sinister about the way it was said, but it was said with an air of finality. Devlin considered pressing the point, but he left it at that.

  Devlin was in no mood to return to the bunker. It felt like when he’d survived a round of redundancies at work many years earlier; most of the people remained, and effectively nothing else had changed, but a gloom was present. Whether David had left of his own volition or was pushed or sacked, the work group dynamic would be changed regardless. He opted to head back to his room at the hotel.

  Chapter - 29.

  Having left work early, this was the first time that Devlin had spent any time in his room during daylight. It occurred to him that at least one down-side of living at a hotel was that his room was never really ‘his’ room. He knew that even after weeks in-situ, if he lasted that long, his room would look no different to how it looked now. Perhaps there would be several days’ worth of casual clothes all cleaned and pressed and hanging in the wardrobe whereas now the wardrobe was empty, but the room would never be home. While his first impression of the room was that it was spacious and luxurious, he now saw it for what it was, just a room.

  Devlin was surprised at his reaction to David’s departure because he knew he’d miss the perpetual ‘stick in the mud’ attitude. Particularly in comparison with easy-going Ikel and friendly Lori, time with David was almost a chore, but it was tolerable. Glen was sure to recruit someone to take David’s place and Devlin couldn’t help some apprehension that any newcomer might well be worse.

  Whether he liked the guy or not, he felt like he needed to find out more about why David was leaving, and it occurred to him that David may well still be in his own room in the Hotel. With this in mind, he grabbed one of the obscenely overpriced bottles of Shiraz from his in-room bar and headed for David’s room which he knew to be only five doors along the corridor.

  David was not very friendly as he greeted Devlin at his door, but he did invite him in
after Devlin held up the bottle of wine. “Come for the news?” David asked cynically. He poured two glasses after removing and savouring the smell of the cork.

  Devlin drank from his glass, enjoying the taste but nothing more. “Glen spun me the line of people leaving when they are ready. I guess I want to know whether you are in fact ready?”

  “Ready. Not ready. It doesn’t really matter. I’m leaving.”

  “But why?”

  “I didn’t play by the rules.”

  “Does that mean that you can’t play by the rules, or you were busted for not playing?” Devlin asked earnestly as he watched David nervously pacing in his room. David had obviously consumed quite a quantity of alcohol since leaving the office; with several spirit bottles on the bar were uncapped and somewhat depleted. He gathered that David wasn’t entirely comfortable in his departure.

  “Caught with my hand in the cookie jar, does it matter that I was eating the cookies or that I was caught? I’m fucked in any case,” David replied, slurring the occasional word.

  “So did you choose to leave?”

  “LastGasp’ is all about trust. If Glen doesn’t trust me, or I guess I don’t trust him, it doesn’t matter. Without trust, LastGasp’ is nothing. Without trust, I can’t work there.”

  “That doesn’t actually answer my question.”

  “I don’t frankly give a fuck as to whether I’ve answered your question?” David sculled the last of the wine in his glass and immediately poured himself a refill.

  “What does a Media Analyst do when he leaves LastGasp’?” Devlin asked, looking to start some conversation as a distraction to the drinking. “I think I asked more or less the same question when I started.”

  “My answer then was a little naïve, though I can’t remember even the gist of what I said.”

  “I think you said ex-employees typically don’t keep in touch.”

  “Something like that.” David sighed and then drank the last of his wine straight from the bottle. “Actually, can you please take Lori a message?” He scribbled a brief note on the hotel stationery and sealed it inside an envelope. “Of course, I’d take it myself, but …you know the deal.” He handed the envelope to Devlin and then ungraciously coaxed him to the door.

  Devlin took the hint and proceeded on his errand with only a simple goodbye.

  Chapter - 30.

  Devlin took his time in delivering David’s message. He figured he was under no obligation to deliver the message immediately, only to deliver it, and as such he allowed himself to be distracted. He headed to the car-park to discuss matters with Albert, taking a roundabout route and enjoying the mid-afternoon sunshine on the way.

  As well lit as the car-park was, it was still substantially less bright than the sunshine outside. Combined with the ammonia fumes, Devlin’s eyesight was struggling to adapt to the changing light to see if Albert was even there. “Albert?” he called out.

  “I’ve heard,” Albert announced before he was even visible, slipping into view only after Devlin was almost on top of him. “No great loss. Maybe his replacement will be better.”

  “So no deep seated compassion for the man from you then,” Devlin quipped. He’d anticipated Albert’s almost obnoxious forthrightness, but still his comments seemed more than a little harsh.

  “Don’t sound surprised. You’ve bitched to me about him. I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Well yes. He wasn’t a favourite of mine, but still, I didn’t want him to leave under a cloud,” Devlin conceded. “It’s just changed the mood in the bunker, that’s all.”

  “That will pass. It always does.” Albert fumbled in the pocket of his excessively out-of-season coat, and only after extracting a phone did Devlin understand why. He answered the phone looking at Devlin, nodding but without saying a word. “Glen wants you upstairs.” He waved Devlin off before starting another chesty cough.

  Chapter - 31.

  By the time that Devlin joined the remaining staff in the lounge room, LastGasp’ had almost an air of sedition about it. He could tell just by looking at Ikel and Lori that they were in a confrontational mood, and it appeared that Glen was going to keep them waiting until he was ready. Revolution or not, Glen was still in charge but his forever loyal employees were looking for an explanation. No-one looked particularly happy, and Devlin’s arrival seemed to only add an urgency to the room.

  With his staff assembled, Glen took control. “Sit down and listen in. I’d like to explain some things about David.” As ever, he was calm and collected, and in just a few words Devlin could feel the ambient tension reduce. “I’d like to explain David’s departure as clearly as I can, knowing full well that you’ll want to get his side of the story, if you haven’t done so already.” Devlin felt himself lower his eyes like a teenager being confronted for some regrettable misdemeanour.

  “I’ll miss David as much as any of you, arguably more so. He’s been a good friend, and he’s worked well. It’s sad he’s gone, but we’ll all move on.” Glen sighed non-committally looking at everyone, but no-one. “It’s funny, you know. Had it been anyone else, David would have been a voice of experience, because he’d already experienced losing someone. But alas, you’re all going to have to trust me and learn from it. Actually, it’s this that LastGasp’ will miss the most, because David had a sense of maturity about him that will be missing in the short term, until at least one of you step up. And I know you will. Until then, we’ll cope.”

  Devlin thought Glen’s speech was nothing extraordinary, but it served its purpose. His assembled audience was silenced, temporarily at least, and their attention was distracted from their concern for the departure of a peer, a friend. However, it did not satisfy Devlin’s curiosity but Glen silenced him with a gesture of his hand before Devlin could utter a syllable.

  “I’d like to leave you with a quick video, and I’d like to re-iterate my security concerns.” Glen stood and pointed his remote control at the bank of televisions. He left the building leaving Devlin, Lori and Ikel fixated on the preliminary static of a video.

  It didn’t take long for Devlin to work out he was watching security video of LastGasp’, semi-professionally collated into a multi-scened movie. The quality of the imagery and associated sound was excellent. High resolution and in full colour, it was more than adequate to identify people right down to skin blemishes and the subtleties of breathing patterns. Since his first day, Devlin had been well aware he was under surveillance in the building, but he was taken aback at the extent of the surveillance evidenced in the video. He’d naïvely assumed that there would be some dead-zones in the building, invisible to the cameras, but clearly he’d been mistaken.

  It was apparent that the subject of the video was David Yeardley, the latest now ex-employee of LastGasp’. Initially everyone watching assumed that the purpose of the video was to allow some degree of sentimentality, in much the same way that home movies had become routine at twenty first birthday parties. There was nothing amusing in the watching, other than sly nose-picking caught on camera as clearly as the subsequent expression of relief on David’s face. Clearly, he was happy to remove the nasal obstruction.

  Devlin also watched the evolution of David. Vision of the bunker and David with unfamiliar faces, presumably other past employees, gradually progressed, presumably chronologically, to include Lori, then Ikel, and finally Devlin himself featured. It was also easy to see David’s confidence decrease and stress increase as time, and the video, continued. Smiles became fewer, and increasingly erratic outbursts featured more and more prominently. David was burning out, slowly but surely.

  After several minutes, Devlin and the others naturally came to wonder about the purpose of the video. Glen didn’t seem the sentimental type, and this was clearly apparent in the movie and Devlin began to look for Glen’s intent or hidden agenda. It was reasonable that security was relevant to the movie, based on his preamble and his incessant pre-occupation with the subject. Gradually, Lori and Ikel both started look
ing at each other and to Devlin, which served to confirm that Devlin was not the only one struggling to understand why Glen considered it so important that they all watch.

  Suddenly, it all became apparent when an unknown face appeared on the video, re-focussing everyone’s attention. It was a woman, tall and leggy, and suggestively dressed. The video, clear as ever, showed David greet the woman at the door, escort her to the kitchen and then proceed to the lounge. David had broken Glen’s golden rule, inviting a stranger into the building.

  “Fuck!” Ikel said what everyone was thinking. “No wonder he left!”

  “No. Glen would have sacked him on the spot for this,” Lori added, not prepared to miss a second of the video.

  Of course the point was moot. Whether David left of his own accord when confronted with the video, or Glen summarily terminated his employment was irrelevant. There was no way he could remain part of LastGasp’, that much at least Devlin now understood.

  The next question raised in watching the video was the identity and the purpose of the woman, and why David would breach security so blatantly. It didn’t take long for this question to be answered. Soon the small-talk between David and the woman progressed to what was clearly foreplay, but only after cash was exchanged. Only the ceiling based or similarly high mounted camera position and the lack of a musical soundtrack separated the vision of David from amateur pornography. Ikel laughed inappropriately, but unavoidably, testament to his youth and immaturity. Lori and Devlin were silent.

  Then the scene in the video changed. Clearly another night, clearly another woman, clearly the same David. And another. And another. Commitment to LastGasp’ was not the only reason why David was so routinely on the night-shift.

  Glen timed his return perfectly. No sooner had the video stopped, that he appeared on one of the CCTV screens, waiting outside the building, buzzing to be allowed in. “No-one is allowed in here except us, or people explicitly sanctioned by me,” he re-iterated as soon as he reached the sitting room. “I want you all to go, now, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”