Dire Means (38 page)

Mark approached the ledge. Morana didn’t follow him, but held the elevator door open. “Look over the edge,” she said.

Mark leaned between the bricks and peered down. He saw a few pedestrians crisscrossing the building’s courtyard over twelve stories beneath them. A small bevy of pigeons flew under him. The view was beautiful, but Mark didn’t understand the point of it.

Morana’s phone rang and she answered it. When she hung up, Mark said, “I don’t see anything unusual.”

“Would you have rescued Pop on the edge of a building this high?” Morana asked. She took several steps sideways as if she was positioning herself for something.

“Of course I would have,” Mark said. “It didn’t matter how high the building was.”

“I believe you. Let’s go.”

Mark was puzzled by Morana’s question and sudden urge to leave.

They rode the elevator to the third floor where Raphael waited for them. They stepped out into a large, open space that looked as if it had been gutted for build out. Missing ceiling tiles exposed cables that snaked their way through the drop-ceiling framework. The bare concrete floor was dusted in patches of white drywall powder. Two waste bins the size of refrigerators overflowed with construction waste off to one side. A row of six shiny Trail Blader containers sat outside the elevator. Raphael smacked one on the side as he walked by it and the echo reverberated.

“Please excuse our mess,” Morana said as they headed for the only door on the opposite side of the space. “This location would be in better shape, but it suffers from neglect.” Inside the door, three more uniformed Trail Bladers. One of them was Nanette, the female Trail Blader who had greeted Mark when he first met the Trail Bladers in the ALCO building. She sat at a table with two men. At the sight of Morana, they stood quickly—as soldiers do for superior officers.

“Relax,” Morana said.

“Good morning, ma’am,” they said, in unison.

“Mark Denny is here to observe today. Let’s make this obtainment pristine.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they said.

Morana walked to the side of the small room and opened another door. “Mark, come see this,” she said.

He went to her and peered through. A vestibule similar to the one in the ALCO building led twenty feet to two elevator doors. The ceiling, walls, and floor of the space were padded with the egg-carton foam. A single bulb hung from a two-foot cable near the center of the vestibule, lighting the drab, purely-functional space.

“If our fodder hold true to form, we can expect our elevator to deliver them at some point between 10:00 and 11:30 a.m.”

“How do you make sure they are alone on the elevator?” Mark asked.

“It requires some luck. But in this case, they make sure for us,” Morana said. She pointed to a chair at the desk and said, “Have a seat and we’ll show you our prep.”

Nanette jumped up and offered her chair to Mark with a star-struck expression that hadn’t faded since the first time she saw Mark.

“Thank you,” Mark said, looking around. The other Trail Bladers introduced themselves, but Mark was distracted as he examined the room. The only table held paperwork, some mobile phones, a laptop, a stack of paper cups, and a box of donuts with only a few glazed left.

An unfinished pine box about four feet wide with a latch on it sat it beside the door that led to the vestibule.

Mark sat and Morana positioned the laptop so they could both clearly see the screen. She clicked a key to bring up a display. The other Trail Bladers gathered behind to watch. The screen was split with separate video feeds on the left and right.

“A few minutes ago, I called Bracks. He connected from the Nest to the building’s video system, and what you see here on the left is the stock footage that Bracks has spliced in to cover us for two hours.” The footage showed an empty vestibule with an occasional uniformed Trail Blader wheeling a data container from an elevator to a place off camera. The current time showed at the bottom of the faked footage.

On the right side of the screen, the footage showed a live shot of the vestibule. The single bulb did a remarkable job of illumination—like a candle in a pitch-black cave. Morana pressed a button on the laptop and the screen blinked to a camera mounted inside the elevator. The floor number showed in neon green superimposed over the bottom of the image.

“Latecomers,” Morana said, pointing to the screen. Two suited men carrying briefcases, and a woman in a blue dress carrying flowers rode the elevator, looking up at the floor numbers that were close to the hidden camera. The floor numbers counted up and then stopped at floor eight where the woman exited and another man entered. They rode up and all exited on floor twelve.

Morana took out her phone and pressed a button. “Yes, Bracks, the feed is perfect and we’re going to run the override locally… Will do…. Thanks.” Morana turned to Mark and said, “Bracks is able to control the elevator from the Nest and he usually prefers to secure and transfer the fodder once they have entered. However, for this obtainment I will control the elevator from here.” She typed a few keys and clicked the mouse several times before a box popped up on the laptop screen with buttons labeled
OVERRIDE, RETRIEVE CAR, OPEN DOOR,
and
RELEASE CAR
. She used the mouse to drag the box of options to the side so the live footage remained in view.

“We are ready,” Morana announced.

The Trail Bladers sat back in their chairs for the stakeout. Nanette hummed a song while she filed her nails. The two male Trail Bladers went back out into the gutted space and returned a minute later, pushing two of the large Trail Blader carts.

“Do you have any questions, Mark?” Morana said.

“When you—
we
— take control of the elevator, why wait for fodder to step out of the elevator—why not pull them from inside the elevator car? They can’t get away.”

“Because of screamers,” Raphael said.

Morana dismissed Raphael with a ridiculous look and then answered Mark with her consummate professionalism. “Drawing them into the vestibule gives us total control over sound and movement during obtainment. Silence is as crucial to our stealth as visual concealment. After our separator wall descends, fodder sounds cannot be heard more than three to four feet away from them. The vestibule creates muteness and fodder can scream as loudly as they wish.”

“Have any fodder ever escaped?” Mark asked.

All the Trail Bladers laughed. Morana only smiled and shook her head. “That isn’t possible,” she said. “If they step off the elevator, they’ve made an irreversible commitment to our mission.” Mark glanced at the faces of the other Trail Bladers. Nanette wore a slight, pleasant smile, as did the men, who nodded in unison. Their connection to one another was eerie.

Mark asked the men some generic, safe questions: how long had they worked for Trail Bladers, how had they met Pop. Each was eager to talk about Pop, referring to him as Papa and unable to heap enough praise on him for wisdom and the goodness of his mission.

Morana’s phone rang. “Yes… Okay, thanks.” She pressed a button on the phone and tossed it back to the table. “The fodder are in motion—heads up.”

The male Trail Bladers pulled the wooden box away from the wall, unlatched, and opened it. They removed Taser guns, tossing one to Nanette, whose face had become serious. One slammed the box shut. They lined up at the door, holding their Tasers up beside their heads as if they would soon kick down the door to rescue a hostage. Raphael positioned himself in front, ready to open it. All looked to Morana for the go-ahead. She nibbled her cheek as she studied the laptop screen.

“Way to step, guys,” she said. “Mark, please stand behind me so you can see on screen. You’ll wait in here.”

He obeyed, and had a front-row seat at a live obtainment. His heart pounded and he wiped his hands on his shirt.

On the laptop, he saw the video feed from the camera mounted inside the elevator where one woman rode down. Morana placed her mouse on the Override button on the screen and kept her finger there. The woman on the elevator got off at the lobby. Two more people entered, rode up to floor five, and exited. “This could be them,” Morana said. The empty car continued up to floor seven and its interior brightened when the doors opened. A man and a woman entered, standing a few feet apart from one another. Mark recognized them from the footage he’d seen in the Deedlog room. The man was tall and thin. He had brown, combed-back hair and wore a white, pressed, dress shirt and tie. The woman adjusted her skirt, pulling it at the sides with her arms straight and wiggling her hips for a better fit. She wore her hair in a ponytail. Both stared straight ahead, their empty hands at their sides.

“They’ve entered the car,” Morana said, her finger raised to strike the button.

The doors closed and the elevator car dimmed. “Come on, come on, come on, do it,” Morana said to the screen. The couple smiled, turned to one another, and embraced in a passionate kiss. Morana hit the Retrieve button and the words “YOUR CARGO” flashed continuously at the bottom of the video screen. Serge’s hands reached out to his side during their kiss, feeling for the elevator buttons until his fingertips found the red Emergency Stop knob. He pulled it, but the car didn’t stop.

“Don’t panic, fodder, don’t panic,” Morana said as she leaned closer to the screen.

The couple stopped and checked the floor display as it continued to count down through floors five and four. Serge pulled the Emergency Stop button a few more times as the elevator car came to a stop at floor three. When the door didn’t open for ten seconds, Serge checked the knob to make sure it was pulled out as far as it would go. Satisfied that they had disabled the elevator, they giggled. Within a matter of seconds Serge had his pants around his ankles and had Denise pressed against the elevator wall. Her skirt was hiked up and her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Bingo,” Morana said. “Here we go.” She scanned the room, checking each of the Trail Bladers who had taken their positions and held their tools. They all nodded to her. Mark swallowed and realized how dry his mouth was. He crossed his arms and felt his heart thumping under them.

Morana’s finger clicked the mouse. The elevator doors slid apart, exposing the couple just after they had dropped to the floor. Serge banged his head on the wall as he rushed to jump off Denise. He hopped in a circle, trying to yank his pants up. Denise jumped up to her feet, and in one smooth motion, pulled her skirt back into place at her hips. She checked to make sure her blouse was still buttoned and then combed her fingers through her ponytail to fix it.

Serge opted not to buckle his belt. Instead he pulled his shirt out and covered his half zipped pants. Denise stepped away from him, and they both peered out the door into the dim vestibule.

“Hello?” Serge said, aiming his voice into the padded room.

“What floor is this?” Denise said.

“I don’t know,” Serge answered.

“Press the emergency button again—it might be jammed.”

“I did,” Serge said. He pulled and pushed the red Emergency Stop button again and again, but the elevator did not respond. “Let’s find the damned stairs.” They stepped out of the elevator and walked tentatively toward the center of the padded vestibule holding hands, Serge leading the way.

Morana clicked a button that said “CLOSE & LOCK.” The elevator door closed behind them. A moment later the foam-lined separator wall slammed down into place, locking the couple in the vestibule.

Morana motioned to the Trail Bladers, and said, “Now.”

Raphael barged through the door and the uniformed team poured in single file, their carts in tow.

Morana struck a key on the laptop to release the elevator, sending it back to its duties. She then went to the crate, took another Taser from the box, and walked through the door with her gun held comfortably behind her back. She pulled the door shut behind her, leaving Mark at the table to observe the next events alone on the laptop’s screen.

The Trail Bladers approached Serge and Denise who stood under the light bulb trying to gain a bearing on their surroundings, the bizarre mechanical wall, and the Trail Bladers who now surrounded them. Raphael and another Trail Blader rotated the carts so that the removable sides faced Serge and Denise.

Morana and Raphael raised their Tasers to Serge and Denise, and the dots of laser sights danced as they had on so many other fodder.

Then, in a calm tone that was almost hospitable, Morana said, “Each of you enter a separate cart willingly.”

Serge turned and bolted full speed toward the separator wall, but he didn’t make it. Morana squeezed her trigger, and probes embedded in Serge’s back, stiffening his body as he slammed into the padded separator and then fell to the floor. He let out a quivering scream. The ticking sound of the Taser stopped after five seconds and Serge’s stiffened body went limp.

On the laptop screen, Mark saw Denise’s mouth open wide and her curled fingers shook beside her face as she screamed. The vestibule was so well padded that he heard nothing. He turned the volume up on the laptop. Denise bent her knees slightly and leaned forward with her hands raised as high as possible in surrender. She began a trembling walk toward a cart. Morana stopped Denise by holding up her hand and said, “Wait. You, second.” She stepped closer to Serge and said, “You, first. Enter the cart willingly.” Serge rolled to his stomach and looked up at Morana with a pale look of terror. “OK, OK, OK,” he said.