Heller (4 page)

I glanced up
at the old redbrick building in front of me, calculating that it
was about six stories high. It had probably been a warehouse/office
combination in a previous life. It had a grim facade with no
interesting features except for its sash windows, the front door
and a large garage door off to its left. No external signage
indicated that the Warehouse (which is what I decided to call it)
was a business premise. There was nothing but a shining brass
street number neatly centred on the door and an unusual number of
security cameras focussed on the entry, garage door and all sides
of the street.

I shifted my
weight from one foot to the other as I waited. I’d decided to dress
conservatively despite the continuing heat, aiming for a slightly
prim and proper look. My makeup was discreet and although I didn’t
think that my bargain reproduction designer suit (half-price on
sale), in a demure shade of pale rose, was too crushed from the
long bus trip across town, I smoothed down the skirt with my hands
just in case. I’d left the top two buttons of my white cotton
blouse undone and pulled it down slightly to expose a bit more
cleavage. I wasn’t above using my assets for my own benefit when
necessary and hopefully my interviewer would be male. My scuffed
rose-coloured court shoes were pinching my feet after the walk from
the bus stop and I was having serious regrets about wearing them.
Thankfully it wasn’t as hot today, but I still felt twin trickles
of sweat making their ticklish way down my spine and between my
breasts and hoped they wouldn’t leave damp patches on my
blouse.

Glancing down,
I cursed, noticing a run in my left stocking and prayed it wasn’t
visible from the front. I patted my hair to make sure it hadn’t
escaped from its neat chignon. I’d taken a lot of care to make sure
I looked respectably presentable. I had a feeling that first
impressions would be important in this position.

The door flung
open suddenly, startling me. A small, sharp-faced teenaged Goth
stood in the doorway, so androgynous in appearance that I had to
heads-or-tails in my mind over whether it was a girl or boy. I
chose boy, but I wasn’t one hundred per cent confident in my choice
as there were no discernable lady or man lumps to give me any
decisive clues about gender. He stared up at me through his
carefully sculpted jet black fringe, thick black kohl encircling
his big, pale blue eyes. He wore black skinny jeans, a belt studded
with small silver skulls, a striped black and purple t-shirt and
chunky black combat boots. His left ear held six silver piercings,
his right ear five, and his nose three. He wore a silver skull ring
with red jewelled eyes on his right ring finger.

“Hi,” he said
in a friendly voice, “you must be . . .” His eyes dropped to his
hand where I could see something scribbled in black pen. “Ms
Chalmers, right? I’m Niq. That’s Niq with a Q, by the way”.

No help there
even. That could be a girl or boy name. “Very pleased to meet you,
Niq with a Q,” I said politely.

“Follow me,
please.” His voice was also decidedly ungendered – not too deep for
a female, not too high for a male. The boy/girl led me down a
hallway to a lift and repeatedly stabbed the up-button with a
black-painted nail. I thanked the heavens for the building’s frosty
air-conditioning and stole a surreptitious look around me while we
waited. The walls were bare redbrick and the floors polished but
well-scuffed dark hardwood. A stairwell led both up and down
stairs. Besides the front door, there was only one other door on
that level, and it remained firmly closed. There were no paintings,
rugs or plants. It was pure jailhouse and as quiet as a tomb except
for the clunking and clattering of the lift slowly grumbling its
way down to us.

As we waited
for the lift, the inner door was thrown open and four of the
biggest men I’d ever seen in my life spilled out into the hallway,
laughing at something one of them had said. They were tall,
broad-shouldered and seriously muscled. They were dressed
identically in black polo shirts with a gold
H
embroidered in script on the pocket, tucked into black cargo pants,
with black utility belts around their hips and the same black boots
that Niq was wearing. The four men stared at me with open curiosity
and I smiled at them sweetly, eyes huge with sheer astonishment at
their size. They looked intimidating, but nodded at us with a
reassuring affability as they passed.

“Guys,” Niq
acknowledged indifferently, barely casting his eyes in their
direction. They didn’t notice, their eyes fixed on me as they
clumped downstairs. The word SECURITY was plastered across the back
of their polo shirts in gold lettering. As I watched their
retreating backs, they all threw me flatteringly attentive glances
over their shoulders as they left. One of them turned back a second
time to give me a cheeky wink. I decided that I liked this place
already.

The lift
landed with a thumping shudder and the wooden doors slowly opened
with an agonising screech. We stepped in and Niq repeatedly pressed
the button for the second floor. The doors reluctantly closed. A
nervous energy seemed to radiate from the little Goth as he chewed
on a thumbnail while staring up at me intently through his fringe.
He seemed, not hostile, but strangely excited by my presence. What
was
that
about?

“You look like
that chick in that lame ad. You know, the one about the cereal,”
Niq said. He suddenly burst out in a shrill, overjoyed singsong
voice, “
I’m the happiest girl in the nation now I’ve cured my
constipation!
”

I cringed at
hearing that corny jingle again. I wasn’t going to admit to that,
so I shamelessly lied. “It wasn’t me, but I hear that all the time.
I guess I do look a bit like her.” Niq stared at me suspiciously as
if my protest wasn’t quite believable. I gazed back with wide-eyed
innocence. I had to admit I was impressed though – it was an
uncanny impersonation of my hammy acting.

One of those
awkward silences descended. I smiled at him briefly and raised my
eyes to the lift ceiling, surprised at its intricate timber inlay.
I thought that must mean that the lift was quite old because lifts
weren’t built like that anymore. I hoped it was safe as it slowly
ascended, screeching misery all the way. To take my mind off that
worry, I turned back to the little Goth.

“So Niq, do
you work here?” I teased gently. He was only thirteen or fourteen
at most and so slight in stature that one of those huge security
men could have crushed him with his bare hands.

“No,” he
smiled shyly and peered up at me through that black fringe. “I’m
still at school, but I will work here when I finish. I want to work
here now, but Heller says it’s important for me to get a proper
education first.” He rolled his eyes at that sensible piece of
advice like a typical teenager.

“And who’s
Heller?” I asked conversationally, barely stifling a yawn. The rave
club next to our unit block had been pounding out thumping bass
until five o’clock in the morning. I had finally properly fallen
asleep at one minute past five, only to be woken up at three
minutes past five by a garbage truck noisily making its way down
the street.

“You don’t
know who Heller is?” he asked me with genuine surprise. “But –”

Before he
could finish, the lift shuddered and stopped suddenly for a few
ticks before continuing again, unbalancing the both of us. Alarmed,
I clung like a gecko to the lift wall, my palms flat against the
side to brace myself.

“Are you sure
this thing’s safe?” I asked, slightly shaken.

“Hasn’t
crashed yet,” he replied, brushing the hair back from his face and
smiling up at me again.

And thankfully
it didn’t today either. At last the lift stopped with a terrifying
lurch that made me reel against the side of the cabin, my hands out
for balance again, my stomach leaping into my mouth. The doors
opened and I prepared to step out to face my interview ordeal, but
unhappily the lift hadn’t made it to its destination. Instead, it
had decided to discontinue the journey about two metres short. We
were caught between floors.

“Uh-oh,” said
Niq, pressing the close-door button frantically. Nothing happened.
He then pushed on the up button. Again nothing. Niq turned to me.
“I think it’s died.”

“You think?” I
asked, a little sarcastic.

“
Daniel!
” Niq screamed suddenly, making me jump.
“Daniel!”

From the gap
in the lift, I saw a pair of legs walking quickly towards us.

“Oh my God,
I’m so sorry,” a man apologised profusely to me, kneeling down to
peer awkwardly into the lift cabin. “Don’t panic. I’ll get you out
of there as soon as possible.” Then he turned to Niq, crossly.
“Niq! I knew I should have brought Ms Chalmers up myself instead of
trusting you. I told you not to use the lift. You know it’s not
safe.”

I shot Niq a
smug
told-you-so
smile.

“Sorry
Daniel,” Niq replied, pulling a face back at me.

“Okay, let me
think for a second. Niq, I’ll get you out first and then you can
help me with Ms Chalmers. Grab onto my hands and use your feet to
climb up the walls of the cabin.”

Daniel leaned
down into the cabin and grasped Niq’s hands. He hauled the little
Goth up until Niq was dangling from the floor of the next level,
legs kicking out wildly as he tried to maintain his grip. I watched
with interest, wondering how I was ever going to complete the same
obstacle in my suit and heels when one of Niq’s chunky boots
unexpectedly cracked into my nose. I shrieked in pain and staggered
against the lift wall, holding my face, my eyes tearing up
uncontrollably.

“Oops, sorry!”
Niq shouted down to me, finally managing to swing one leg onto the
floor and quickly scrabbling to pull the other one up as well,
escaping the lift. Niq and Daniel stared down at me anxiously.

“Oh dear. Are
you all right?” Daniel asked with concern.

I touched my
nose tenderly. It hurt like hell. I hoped it wasn’t broken.

“Sure, it’s
nothing,” I lied bravely, blinking away the tears. I took off my
tight shoes and tossed them up onto the floor above. I threw my
handbag up as well. This was going to be very inelegant. Thank
goodness I had worn my best pair of panties today!

Daniel grabbed
my hands and I tried to do what Niq had done, climb up the wall of
the cabin using my feet until I could throw one of my legs onto the
floor above my head. Unfortunately my stockings made my feet
slippery and I couldn’t maintain a grip on the polished timber
panels of the lift wall. Daniel was trying valiantly to drag me up,
almost pulling my arms out of their sockets in the process, but it
was no good. He just wasn’t strong enough and Niq wasn’t able to
reach. Daniel let me go, promising to be back in a second. I
thought briefly of removing my stockings, but decided that there
was no way that I was going to start taking off my clothes in a
place that appeared to be full of men.

Daniel
returned quickly, talking softly to someone else. Another pair of
shoes appeared in the gap, fashionable glossy pointed black
shoes.

“Heller will
be able to get you out, Ms Chalmers,” Daniel told me in his
soothing voice. “You’ll be free in a minute.”

A different
man knelt and reached his arms down towards me. I couldn’t see him
well from where I was but lifted my arms up helpfully and before I
could even take a breath, he gripped my forearms and forcefully
pulled me up. He wasn’t gentle and I scraped my entire body as he
dragged me out of the gap between the top of the lift and the
floor. I stumbled with the momentum of being hauled up and fell
with a great lack of dignity on my hands and knees at his feet.

I sat back on
my haunches and looked up at him. I had to look a long, long way
because he was very tall, well over two metres, with a muscular fit
body, cheekbones you could slice your hands on and a sensuous
mouth. A light tan emphasised his spiked, razor-cut blond hair and
incredible glacial blue eyes. His teeth were very white and even.
He was exceptionally well-dressed, completely in black – black silk
shirt (with a gold
H
monogrammed on the pocket),
black suit, black shoes. He wore an expensive silver watch with a
black face and a chunky silver ring with an engraved
H
logo on his left ring finger.

He was the
most astoundingly beautiful human being I had ever set eyes on in
my whole life. He was more beautiful than an entire host of
heavenly angels, more beautiful than the progeny of the most
beautiful gods who had ever reproduced. He was simply drop-dead
deliciously divine. My eyes goggled and my pulse quickened. My
mouth dried up. I had to urgently press my lips together to stop my
tongue from lolling.

I had just met
Heller.

He bent over,
grasped my arms again but more gently this time, and pulled me to
my feet. I managed to steady myself, gaping up at him in stunned,
stupid, silent wonder. My eyes were gigantic in my face and not one
cogent word formed itself in my brain and made its way down to my
mouth. I was literally dumbstruck. I’m from a tall family and am
very tall for a woman at 180 centimetres (about six feet for you
old-fashioned folk), but I felt tiny standing next to him. His eyes
raked my face intently and frowning slightly, he took a monogrammed
handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me.

“Your nose is
bleeding,” he commented, a charming northern European accent
tingeing his voice. German? Danish? I took the handkerchief and
gingerly dabbed at my aching nose, eyes fixed on him still. Would I
ever be able to look away?

“I kicked her
in the face,” Niq confessed. Heller turned his frown on Niq before
stepping alarmingly close to me. My heart started racing. He
reached towards me, gently grasped the bridge of my nose with his
fingers and moved it around carefully. Somehow I managed to stifle
my yelp of pain, although my eyes watered again. When he stepped
back afterwards, I suddenly wished he hadn’t, despite the extra
pain he had caused. I wanted to catch the scent of his tantalising
cologne again. He stared at me and frowned once more, his blue eyes
boring into mine relentlessly.