*****
Three hours later my case file was logged and I arrived outside the security gate of Global Net. The area in which it resided was a fifteen minute drive from Little Dreamers, sitting on the outskirts of the city and bordering suburban neighbourhoods. Well maintained public parks and stylish roadside fruit stands announced this was a little closer to the upmarket zone then Little Dreamers.
Waiting in its nest of trimmed green grass and blossoming flowerbeds the Global Net building was silent. It was housed safely behind a bordering eight foot chain link fence. With the sun sitting near its peak the glass structure virtually exploded with reflected light flares.
I sat for a moment in the driveway scanning the property, watching and thinking. The security gate towered before me. When I did climb from my vehicle, a feeling of isolation set in. Which was odd since my every instinct told me people were nearby, just out of sight, doing business, answering phones, busy with general office corporate life.
A look over my shoulder revealed an enormous storage facility across the road. It showed little activity and appeared only partially functional. Enormous towering metal containers and an unmanned forklift were visible. But not a soul could be seen.
It dawned on me that since Global Net was flanked on all sides by roads, was opposite a storage facility that apparently operated at night, and had nothing in terms of decent signage; the place was virtually an island. It was as separate as was possible for corporate real estate to be.
I reached through my vehicle’s window and gave a blast on the horn. A second later an early forties man emerged; balding and blue uniform tight over a mound of belly A flashlight dangled from his belt. He could only have been a fulltime security guard.
“Help you?” he asked. His little eyes studied me through the gate.
“Yes, sir,” I replied, “Sorry to disturb. I’m here on official D.O.M business. I’d like to enter and have a look around, if I may.”
His eyes narrowed. “If it was official you wouldn’t be asking permission, Enforcer.”
“Ah. Yes.”
No, I did not yet have a search warrant. And only after Gill had scrutinised my report would I be granted one.
“May I enter for a look around, sir?” I asked, “It’s connected to a case I’m working on and would be of great help. Would only take a moment - I’d be gone before you knew it.”
“Entrance by appointment only,” he muttered. He rolled his eyes as if I’d just used a salad fork on my fish.
“Yes. I see. Thank you.”
I looked beyond him into the property. The Global Net parking area occupied the space between the building and gate. There were dozens of parking bays, close to a hundred. None were occupied.
“How many people work here?” I enquired, turning back to the guard.
His brow morphed into a scowl. He had recognised me now for what I clearly was; ‘one of those damn trouble makers’.
“What business is it of yours?”
“Just curious.”
“Why?”
“If you look behind you you’ll notice there are a hundred parking spaces and not a single car.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “And?”
“It’s a work day. Where are the people who work here?”
He stared. His eyes began to glaze.
“Well?” I pressed, “Where is everyone? Is it an off day? How many people have you let in or out today? How many people have you ever let in or out of this establishment?”
His mouth popped open.
“Yes, that’s what I thought. What is your name, sir?”
His expression said I had just asked for a gourmet Venezuelan cheese recipe. I took a deep breath, found my Place of Calm, and eased out an Ambience Tweak. One I hoped would override spells already in place.
“Pal? I asked your name…”
‘You and me, we are unspoken brethren,’ the spell said, ‘We both work in an industry that involves security. This gives us a special bond that allows us such privileges as shooting the breeze, sharing meaningful industry related small talk, swapping humorous stories and, most importantly, being relaxed in one another’s company.’
Clarity came to his eyes and he grinned. “Phillip. Yours?”
“Jet. So, what’s the deal with this place?” My tone suggested I had frequented enough ‘places’ to have a valid opinion.
“Easy gig,” he replied, shrugging, “Got a TV in my hut. Chill out all day. Call my girl on the company phone and just talk shit for hours. Paid in cash, always on time.” He leaned forward with a grin. “Sometimes I even hit a little…” Thumb and forefinger were pressed together and air sucked between them. “… at lunch and just zone out.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
We shared a hearty laugh.
“So what kind of people? Building looks pretty nice.”
His smile turned uncertain. “I.T. folks. Nice enough. Don’t speak to them much. Old woman who pays me is nice, though. Always gives me a tip when she comes through.”
“Nice. Maybe she’s sweet on you.”
He laughed again, a bellowing sound that shook his body of pudding from head to foot. “She’s in her seventies, man.”
“So Phillip. Any chance I can get in for a peek around? Would really help me out. Duties and all, you know?”
“Nah, sorry brother.” He gave an embarrassed shrug. “That’s the one thing these people are anal about. No in or out without an appointment.”
“Sure. Okay.” I met his gaze. “Open the gate, Phillip.”
“I said…”
I increased the output of Spirit. He hesitated, mouth opening and closing as two spells fought for dominance.
“Open the gate, please,” I repeated.
‘Sure. But, don’t tell anyone I let you in, okay?”
“I won’t. Promise.”
The gate clattered aside.
I climbed back into my car and headed for the building’s entrance. Phillip waved like we were lifelong friends. My car moved into the property and beyond the parking bays. Isolation closed in like a fog. Not even a discarded cigarette butt or sweet wrapper gave testimony to life having ever existed here.
Upon arriving at the foot of the building I stopped, popped open my door and mounted four brick steps to a glass entranceway. Locked. Behind the entranceway a lobby and reception desk could be seen, but not a flicker of movement.
“Hello? Enforcer Clarence on official D.O.M business. Hello?”
Nothing. I sighed in frustration. An urge to kick in the glass was near overwhelming. My body buzzed with the potential my grandmother or mother might be hiding inside. Perhaps both. I headed back to my car.
“Dispatch,” I said into my car radio. “Clarence.”
“Dispatch. Go ahead, Clarence.”
“I’m waiting on a warrant for a property. Global Net. Could you possibly notify Commander Gill that sooner would be better then later?”
There was a crash of glass against white tiles. My head snapped up. The entranceway was shattered, and standing beside it my demon looked at me mutely. I gaped in disbelief.
“Clarence…?” the car radio said, “Warrant for Global Net? Please repeat.”
“Hold, dispatch.”
I dropped the radio, mouth hanging open. The demon stared. I reached into the car for my emergency flask of coffee. Half was drunk in one long gulp. The lid was twisted back on and I stormed back up the steps.
“What are you doing?!’ I snapped at it. “Are you insane?!”
The demon proved it’s sanity by remaining silent.
“You can’t do that,” I roared, “I never gave you permission!”
It nodded its head into the building lobby. I gaped, jaw cranking but no words emerging. It repeated the gesture.
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” it said.
My eyes widened. For a long time there was only the gentle whisper of wind through hundreds of empty parking bay
s.
“My God you son of a bitch,” I spat, “Go away.”
It faded and my eyes flicked off back across the parking lot. Phillip the security guard was nowhere to be seen. My attention turned back to the building.
“Hello?” I called out, “There seems to have been an accident.”
There was no answer and I stepped passed the threshold into the lobby. The sound of crunching glass was loud in the tiled area.
“Hello?”
I passed through the lobby and onto the ground floor. The area was empty. Not a desk or chair to be seen. Even the walls were bare, threaded with hollow troughs where electrical cables should live. A glance down revealed the cement floor was kept moderately clean, but a faint network of footprints could be made out in accumulated dust. I took a final glance around, nerves singing, and followed the clearest set deeper into the building. My footsteps echoed a melancholy beat.
The further I advanced the darker the shadows became, sunlight fading and a damp smell springing up to take its place. Trapped coils of icy air broke over my legs and penetrated my trousers. The footprints continued between two dusty pillars and disappeared through an archway. I followed, and beyond the archway emerged into a door-lined corridor. Empty offices were glimpsed on either side as I proceeded.
Finally the corridor ended and I was faced by a bigger more intimidating door, one that would have belonged to an office manager. The dust footsteps told me my destination lay on the other side. I reached out and the instant before my hand touched the doorknob a fleeting sensation of déjà vu whispered a sultry ‘welcome home.’ Then the oiled hinges were giving access to a lofty office.
Inside sat a stark contrast to the rest of the building. One so extreme I could have sworn I had slipped into a parallel universe. Windows covered by wooden blinds allowed bars of sunlight to illuminate a carpeted floor, polished wooden desk, filing cabinet, and laden bookshelf. To my left was a chair once occupied by young Ken. And on the wall behind it a collection of charts.
I stepped forward and scanned one of the charts, which at first glance appeared to be a section of sheet music. But upon closer examination I realised the many strange symbols and markings were not concerned with music at all. But magic. It was a diagram of a spell. The title read ‘Delayed Reaction: Refined’ in hand written ink. Some of the others charts were titled ‘Virus’, ‘Experimental 002’, ‘Quicker Spread’, and ‘Crowd Surfing 009’.
I turned my attention to the desk. An A4 paper on the wall behind the desk was labelled with ‘Little Dreamers Day Care,’ and listed twenty names with an age and table of notes.
Augustine, Kerry5Impression FailSecond Attempt
Bachman, Timothy4Impression FailNo Potential
Buford, Lisa5Impression FailSecond Attempt
Bosworth, Ken6Impression SuccessExcellent
“Young Ken,” I muttered to myself.
The ‘impression’ had been a success on the poor boy. An impression, I assumed, involved a dog named Buddy.
I reached down and pulled open a drawer. In the first were pens, paper and a box of labels, in the second a stack of notebooks. I took a notebook and flipped through it, finding page upon page of names followed by a tick or cross. The vast majority being crosses. Some were accompanied by a comment such as; ‘Major Potential’, ‘Class 3’, ‘Resisting - Caution’, ‘Excellent Candidate’, ‘Moderate Response’. After turning back a few pages I found a tick beside the name; ‘Bosworth, Ken’ and the note ‘He’s our boy’.
I now turned to the cabinet and found hundreds of files. Each was arranged with a name in alphabetical order. I flipped through and found; “Carlson, Judy”. A brief glance through the file revealed a photo of the girl aged about five, plus various forms giving a detailed breakdown on a young couple named Alex and Sidney Ferguson. The girl’s parents. The father did not look even remotely similar to the ‘Cowboy’ I had seen in Judy’s head. At the back of file was an old crayon drawing of a black horse.
“A horse named Albert,” I muttered to myself.
The file was replaced and I kept searching. I found ‘Hastings, Linda’, and again ‘Bosworth, Ken’. Each contained similar detailed information on the person and their parents. With a deep breath I now flipped back the C’s and found; “Clarence, Jet.”
“Damn it.”
I reached for the file but an instant before my fingers closed on the cardboard surface I froze. My heart hammered. The hand was withdrawn. The drawer was closed.
“Not now. Please, not now.”
I turned, intending on checking if anything was to be found on the other floors of the building. But the unmistakable sound of an approaching vehicle stopped me. I jogged back to the lobby and peered out through the broken doors, cursing myself for not parking my car out of sight. Gliding up the driveway approached a black vehicle. The windows tinted and exterior polished to a mirror shine. It parked beside my car, the engine cut, and doors opened.
Philip, the security guard, stepped out first. His expression was somewhere between confused and sheepish. The dark haired young man followed. Then emerged my grandmother.
Balance - Book 2 Page 49