Chapter 12
Thursday, 4:00 p.m.
Three ordinary-looking figures strolled through the large glass double-doors of the skyscraper housing the Vertigo Corporation’s Dallas offices. One was a tall, well-built man with grey eyes twinkling behind rectangular glasses. At his side stood an attractive woman with curly red hair that touched her shoulders. In front of them both was a skinny blond girl, brown eyes looking out of a face that had not yet lost its youth. For all the world, they might have been a husband and wife and the couple’s teenage daughter.
The guard at the security desk spotted them immediately. He was a middle-aged, balding man with more than a bit of paunch. “Can I help you folks,” he called out to them as they ambled into the lobby.
“Don’t think so,” James called back, “we’re just going to see one of the lawyers on the fifth floor. We don’t need a pass or anything, do we?”
“Not to get onto the fifth floor,” the guard answered jovially. “Lawyers like it when people with nice fat credit limits come pay ‘em a visit.”
James grinned at the banter. As the two men spoke, Moira cast her eyes around the lobby, noting the location of the elevator as well as the security camera, which sat perched several feet above the guard’s head, a small red light indicating that it was on. She gave a surreptitious tug on James’ arm to let him know that she was ready to move ahead. James opened his mouth to thank the guard for his time – but the other man spoke first.
“Now, those hot shots up on the sixteenth floor? Whole different story.”
Moira stopped in her tracks. Next to her, she saw James and Alex do so, as well. “The sixteenth floor?” James asked.
“Yeah, there’s some big shot chemical company or somethin’ up there,” the guard told him, waving a hand dismissively in the air to indicate that these matters went way above his head. “They’ve got it in their heads that everything they do is top secret, and they’ve got the security to match. Elevators won’t even take you to their offices without a swipe card.”
Shit. Moira forced herself not to react.
“Sounds like someone has a pretty high opinion of themselves,” James smirked.
“No kidding,” the guard laughed. “You folks have a good day, all right?”
Moira saw James nod to the guard as she led him around the corner, past the elevators and toward the bathrooms. The lobby was relatively sparsely populated – only a few people wandering this way or that. This made it easier for the three of them to talk in the open without attracting suspicion. Once they were out of view of the security guard, the three of them huddled. “Any idea what we’re gonna do about getting a swipe card?” James asked, in a whisper.
“Seems like we’ve got two choices, Dad,” Alex posited. “Either get ourselves a swipe card, or take the stairs.”
“I think Option B is our best bet,” Moira opined. “No guarantee we’ll be able to get someone from the Vertigo Corporation alone to steal their card. I vote stairs.”
“Knew I shoulda started my diet,” Alex winced. From her voice, Moira guessed that the girl was joking -- mostly. “But she does have a point.”
James nodded. “We’d better get into the restrooms – who knows when people will start coming down in those elevators?”
Moira and Alex, and the three of them split – Moira and Alex heading to the women’s room, and James to the men’s. Moira spent the next two hours huddling in silence in a toilet stall, crouching with her feet on the toilet seats to avoid any chance of being seen. The time seemed interminably dull and maddeningly nerve-wracking, a situation not helped by the fact that it took the security guard until just shy of six o’clock to make his inspection of the restrooms. But finally, it was done, and the guard was gone. Moira emerged from her hiding place as Alex opened the door to her stall. The two of them emerged from the room to find James waiting for them.
Moira found that the lobbby was empty and the lights had been shut off. The large, open space was now cloaked in grey and tinged in yellow-orange from the evening sunlight streaming in through the windows. James walked to the end of the hallway in which they stood, then turned to Moira and Alex and shook his head. Moira turned to Alex. “No stairs here. We’ll have to go to the other end of the lobby,” she told the younger woman. “Hug the wall, okay? We’ll need to slip right under the security camera to avoid being seen.”
Alex nodded, her expression steely. Moira gestured to James to follow them, and then slid around the corner. The three of them pressed their backs against the marble wall as they made their way to the opposite hallway, slinking more than walking. Around the opposite corner was a darkened hallway. On either side were innumerable locked doors, all of them identical in appearance. The three of them canvassed the hall, trying door after door to find the one that led to the stairs. Finally, they found it, as James pulled the handle on the last door on the left. It opened easily, revealing a claustrophobic room containing only a set of stairs leading upward.
Alex stepped into the room and walked to the foot of the stairs. From behind her, Moira could see that the flight of stairs led to another flight of stairs, which led to another, and then another, and then another, on upward to dizzying heights. “Looks like we’ll be at this a while,” Alex quipped sardonically, then started up the stairs, with Moira following close behind. The sound of footsteps from behind told Moira that James was bringing up the rear.
They passed a door with the number “1” spray painted on it, then another with the number “2,” then “3,” then “4,” and so on. Each had only an ordinary, run-of-the-mill doorknob on it. “Just one more to go,” Alex called as they passed the door marked “15,” all of them huffing and panting. Then they reached the door marked “16” –
And it had, not a doorknob, but a handle with a keypad on it. A keypad such as one might use to enter an access code.
Moira and James swore viciously in tandem. “Bet you it’s the same thing the next floor up,” James told Moira tartly.
“Almost certainly,” Moira answered, without the slightest hesitation.
When they reached the door leading to the seventeenth floor, those suspicions were confirmed. “Well,” James said, “I learned a little bit about outwitting these things while I was in the military … guess I could give it a go?”
“Pretty sure you’ve got a better chance than me,” Moira retorted.
“And I definitely couldn’t do it,” Alex told him. Moira saw disgust in the young woman's facce as she looked at the keypad.
James nodded, and knelt in front of the door. For a half minute, Moira watched as he stared at it, tongue resting inside his right cheek, pressing buttons in a slow, focused, deliberative fashion. Finally, the keys on the panel turned green and a beeping noise issued forth from the panel. The door clicked open.
And standing in it was a tall man in a white lab coat, goggles pulled up over his head. “What the –“ he started.
He didn’t have time to finish the question. Moira’s foot lashed out toward the man, and her kick caught him in the left temple with pinpoint accuracy. He fell forward instantly, and Moira moved to catch his unconscious body before it landed on the floor with a noise that would certainly give them away. She dragged the man out into the stairwell and laid him across several stairs, then turned to James and Alex. “Hopefully they won’t come looking for him for a while.”
Alex’s face made clear that she was deeply impressed. “Can you teach me that?”
“Maybe when you’re older,” Moira teased, prompting Alex to make a face at the older woman. “Come on, let’s go.”
With that, Moira ushered them into a long, sterile corridor, stretching out perhaps twenty yards in either direction. Some of the doors along the corridor were closed, though through the windows embedded in them, the group could see white-coat-clad scientists hard at work on projects. Other doors were open a crack, and the trio could hear murmurs of conversation from beyond, though the voices were quiet enough that they cou
ld not distinguish words. And then they came to a massive set of double doors, pulled wide open, beyond which was a room filled with computers, monitors, and projection screens. It was occupied by two men who stood at opposite ends of the room, their backs to the trio, their attention seeming fully focused by what they saw on the computer monitors at which they stared.
James turned to Moira. He pointed to himself, then to the man on the left, then to her, then to the man on the right. Moira nodded, understanding instantly, and stalked silently toward her target. As she approached, she removed her sidearm from inside her coat, her hand clenching around the muzzle of the firearm. When she got close enough, she reached out and struck the man in front of her over the head with the butt of her weapon. As the impact produced a loud THUD, she looked quickly over toward James and his target …
And saw James trip over an electrical cord that was strewn across the floor just shy of the man he was supposed to incapacitate. The man whirled, eyes going wide with alarm as he saw James. Moira leapt towards the man, determined to silence him before he could cry out in alarm. She extended the arm that held her gun, intending to cold-cock him as she had his companion, but this one was adroit and ducked out of the way of the blow. He then charged Moira, tackling her to the ground. The gun clattered out of her hand as he pulled back his arm to punch her – but before he could, Alex’s hands gripped his shoulders, and with a loud grunt she pulled the man off of Moira, shoving him back against the wall. The back of his head hit the wall with a loud THUD and he lost consciousness.
Moira shot Alex an admiring grin. “Thanks,” she told the younger woman, picking herself up and brushing herself off. Then she walked over to James and extended a hand to help him up. “Good work, there, Butterfingers,” she teased him as he accepted the hand, giving her a rueful look.
“Let’s hurry,” James told the others. “Someone probably heard that?”
“What?” Moira asked sharply. “You mean all the noise from that little commotion you just caused?”
James looked hurt at the comment, but apparently decided not to pursue it, Instead, he sat down at one of the computers and started typing away, the tap-tap-tapping noise filling the room for a moment. Moira looked over his shoulder. “Here we go, a file called ‘Weaver,’” he murmured, clicking on the file and opening it. Complicated DNA sequences appeared on the screen, with a menu of sub-folders appearing off to one side. “Jackpot!” James whispered triumphantly.
“This looks like everything we need -- should be more than enough to prove illegal genetic experimentation. They even kept logs of the whole history of the project!” she crowed, pointing at one of the sub-folders, which was titled “Project History”.
“Yeah, but what’s this?” James murmured in reply, as Alex stepped forward to look over his shoulder. He dragged the mouse over a folder called “Weavers,” and double-clicked. A long roster of names flooded the screen.
“What the …” Moira whispered, shocked.
“Dad,” Alex pointed to the screen, alarmed, “that’s my name.”
“Yeah,” James nodded soberly, scrolling downward. “I think this may be a list of everyone they’ve ever tried to make into a Weaver.” He turned his head to Moira. “You guys can subpoena all the people on this list – with that many people testifying against them, no way a jury can ignore it. Even O.J. couldn’t have gotten off with –”
Moira felt the blood drain from her face.
“Moira?” James asked. In response, she pointed to the screen. The look of concern on his face barely registered in her mind. In the middle of the screen was a single entry, seemingly no different from any other.
“MCBAIN, MOIRA”.
And above it, another entry, “MCBAIN, IAN”. James’ eyes narrowed and his jaw hardened. “Alex,” he whispered, reaching out a hand, “hand me the drive.”
Alex reached into one of her coat pockets and pulled out the thumb drive she had brought for copying the company’s files. James inserted the disk into one of the computer’s ports and began copying. The progress meter ticked slowly upward.
Ten percent … fifteen … twenty …
“Those are definitely footsteps,” Moira whispered harshly, as the meter reached forty percent. “I’d make it … at least four people, coming this way.”
She cast her eyes around the room. There was plenty of computer equipment here, some of it on racks and stands, but few good hiding places. Many of the obstructions were too narrow for a person to hide behind effectively, and many others were too short for crouching. “Don’t think we can all stay out of view,” she whispered anxiously.
“And we can’t leave yet – the download isn’t finished,” James answered.
As he was speaking, Moira realized that Alex was no longer next to them. Apparently James realized it too. “Alex!” he hissed. “Where are you –"
--
Before her father or Agent McBain could stop her, Alex had walked out into the hall – and right into the path of the four armed security guards coming down the hall toward the room where her father and Moira hid. They stopped in their tracks at seeing her. “You? What are you doing here??” one of them asked in a harsh, clipped tone.
The woman at the speaker’s side turned her head to him. “Does it matter? Our orders are to detain any unauthorized persons on this floor until police arrive.”
Alex swallowed hard, summoning her courage. “I’m not unauthorized,” she told them, clasping her hands behind her back and staring the guards down defiantly.
The man who had first spoken regarded her contemptuously. “No children work for Vertigo,” he spat.
“No,” she answered, her composure not wavering in the slightest, “but Dr. Rickston works with a number of them, doesn’t he?”
“Where’s your security card?” the lead guard asked.
“Clear card?” Alex asked, suddenly nervous and trying not to sound it.
“All of Dr. Rickston’s patients are given cards that get them access to this level,” he told her, reaching for a pair of handcuffs. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to come with us.”
“Ooooo-kay,” Alex answered, in a cautionary tone, holding out her arms, “but my mother won’t be happy if you call the police on me.”
“Boo hoo,” the lead guard answered, clearly unfazed, “why should I care about that?”
Alex grinned tightly at the man as he started to cuff her. “Because my mother is Ainsling Cronlord. One of Dr. Rickston’s main clients.”
This stopped the guard in his tracks, and he and his fellows exchanged anxious looks. “You’re Cronlord’s daughter?”
“I am,” she nodded, trying to project confidence, “and she brought me here for an appointment with Dr. Rickston. You want to drag her back down here and make her explain all of that to you?”
The guard swallowed nervously. Apparently Ainsling was just as intimidating to others as she was to her own daughter. “That’s all right,” he answered. “What was that noise we heard? Sounded like a bang or a crash?”
“Oh, yeah, I accidentally knocked over one of the monitors. Silly me. I picked it up, though, and it still works,” Alex answered.
“Ah, well, be more careful. Dr. Rickston gets upset if people fuck with lab property,” the guard told her.
Alex nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go back in there and keep waiting for him. That okay?”
The guard nodded. “He just went to get dinner. He should be back soon.”
With that, he and his three companions turned and headed in the opposite direction. Alex headed back into the computer room, only to be swept into an enthusiastic embrace by her father. “Holy shit, honey!” he congratulated her breathlessly, and this time there was no paternalistic tone to his words. He sounded as if he were talking to an equal. Or even a superior. “That was amazing.”
Alex smiled sheepishly as he released her. “Thanks, Dad,” she answered. Even Moira hugged her and gave her a tight grin.
�
�All right, the download’s done,” James told them a moment later, pulling the thumb drive from the port. “We’ve got what we need. Let’s get out of here.”
--
11:30 p.m.
James Cronlord sat at his daughter’s bedside in the hotel room they shared. He had done so many times as she had grown up, and it should have felt familiar to him. Instead, it was suddenly alien. He felt out of place, as if he didn’t belong there. He leaned over, hands clasped in his lap, and spoke softly. “I called your mother and told her what we had on her. I think she and the Wells Society are gonna back off,” James told his daughter, then hesitated. “Moi – Agent McBain tells me that you want to help her out at the FBI. Try and put your … whatever it is … to some use.”
Alex nodded. “You always said it was best to make lemons out of lemonade,” she smiled softly at him.
James grinned wryly. “And here I thought you never listened to me. But are you sure? I mean, you’d get behind in your –“
“Agent McBain and I already had this talk,” Alex told him impatiently. “But I feel like I could really help people this way. And besides … it just doesn’t feel right, you know? Walking into homeroom tomorrow like nothing happened.”
James knew all too well what she meant – it was roughly how he felt right now. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Well, if she can get you the waiver, it’s okay by me. At least for now. But don’t you go getting yourself killed, all right?” He wagged his finger at her, another gesture that felt out of place and antiquated. “You’re … you’re all I’ve got.”
In the soft light of the bedside lamp, James’ features showed a deep sadness. Apparently Alex saw it, because she reached out and put one of her hands on top of her father’s. “That makes two of us.”
James chuckled mirthlessly. “I never imagined myself as a single parent.”
His daughter smiled warmly at him. “You’re off to a great start
James looked down at her curiously. “How do you know?”
She smiled again. “I’m still alive.”
He looked disturbed. “That’s not a very high standard to set.”
“We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”
Epilogue
Alex ran frantically over the uneven ground, her feet seeming to almost have a mind of their own as she raced desperately down the gravel road. Ahead of her, she saw a street sign saying “Mockingbird.” Good, she thought, at least I have some idea where I am. She desperately pulled out her cell phone, hoping it had enough battery left to call her father. If he was still alive.
In her panic, she tripped over one of her own shoelaces which had become untied, falling face-first onto the street. She got up, fear and adrenaline coursing through her as she cursed herself. Always were a clumsy bitch. She felt drops of blood start to trickle from a cut she had opened on her knee, but she ignored them as they stained her white sock red. There would be time to clean her injuries later. Maybe.
She cast a desperate glance behind her, afraid of what she might see – and there they were. A horde of them, shambling forward mindlessly, lifelessly, gazes staring straight ahead. They moved in lockstep, like soldiers marching in formation. They looked human, but the guttural grunts and groans that issued forth from their mouths were not noises any human would make.
In a way, the figures advancing on her were almost cartoon-like – caricatures of the people they had once been – but Alex did not begin to find them funny. Taking a deep breath into lungs that already burned from exertion, she propelled herself forward again. Every second she stood still narrowed the gap between her and them, and she doubted that they would show her much more mercy than the other people she’d seen them slaughter …
As a thrill of fear coursed quickly through her body, Alex awoke in the hotel room she and her father shared, jolting upright in an instant, shaking and covered in sweat. Apparently her panting and gasping for breath was not quiet, for her father stirred from his place on his own bed. He rolled over, turning on the light.
“Alex?” he asked, reaching for his glasses, looking concerned.
“We have to stop them,” she breathed quietly.
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