The Hazing Tower

by Leland Roys

  Godfried had given her Alex’s satellite phone after he passed out. She wondered if he had one here the whole time; for some reason, that made her smile again. She remembered she had to go outside to use it; she had used a sat phone a couple of times on the force for raids when no cell phone service was near. Sat phones needed a clear view of the sky to work well.

  “Mikey, it’s Nikki — the crazy girl from the gas station today.”

  “Nikki! Is everything OK?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. You don’t need to call my friend.” She could hear him laugh. “Sure, this is like a spy movie! It’s the most excitement I’ve had in, well, forever!”

  “Thanks, Mikey.”

  She suddenly felt exhausted. She’d been running on pure adrenalin all day and it was starting to wear off. And for the first time in forever, she was in no pain. None. It felt like heaven. She walked back inside, locked the huge doors and went to the bedroom.

  She looked to her side at the other bed. The room was huge. She must be crazy, totally crazy. She walked over and picked up the gun. Just in case, she said to herself.

  She pulled the sheets over her. She hadn’t felt this good for as long back as her memory went. No pain. Her eyes started to close as she tried to focus on Alex in the bed next to hers.

  Sleeping next to her abductor — Nikki, what are you doing? Then she remembered she was already dead. She fell asleep.

  • • •

  Spiffed

  Hunter’s cell woke him up. He put his arm to the side and felt for her. He always did. Ten years later and he still did. The bed was cold and empty. He looked at the clock: 1:05 a.m.

  If it was his cell, it was important, but he wasn’t sure if he actually cared anymore. Addiction is hard to break, even after it has taken everything from you. He knew that all too well.

  “What is it?”

  “Sir! You need to get down here.” The caller sounded like he would explode with excitement.

  “This better be good.”

  “Trust me, it is.”

  Hunter drove his beat-up Volvo down the dark road. The radio had been busted for years, but sometimes, if he hit it hard enough, it would come on. He smacked it a couple of times — nothing. He stared out at the headlights. This obsession, this addiction, it had ruined him. He lost it all, his wife, his son, hope. This was his life now. The Volvo groaned as he shifted gears; the engine didn’t have much life left in her.

  At first he had a reason, he had hope. Hope drove his obsession. That was long gone; now, there was no reason to continue. But he did, he always did. The radio snapped to life. He slowly pressed the selection for classical music; if he pressed too hard, it would go out again.

  He didn’t even remember the drive. He had taken this route so many times. Stupid, he thought to himself. How could he be so stupid! He drove past the site and snapped back into focus. Had he been followed? Twenty years with the CIA and he forgets the drive; he really had lost his edge.

  He drove in circles until he was sure he had no tail, then went back to the site. It looked like a normal warehouse from the outside.

  He cleared through gate security and pulled into the “hangar,” as they called it. A couple of old airplanes, never used, were parked around him.

  Walking through the side door, he stood in a dark hallway and waited. After about a minute, a door slid open where no door had been obvious before.

  He was in.

  “Sir! Wait until you hear this.” It was Jeremy. He tended to get very excited, but he was a genius with anything technical.

  “Like I said, this better be good for 2 a.m.”

  They walked over to a huge complex of computers. It was just the three of them, Hunter, Jeremy and Leonard, another tech guru who had the advantage of being able to translate geek talk into English.

  Jeremy was beside himself. “OK, sir. So you were right about Dianne. I mean tapping her phone, sir. I don’t know how you knew, but it’s shocking.”

  “Can we speed this up,” Hunter asked. He was starting to become interested.

  “Sorry, sir. We got a hit; she got a call. And the voice, the voice you gave us, Nikki— the ESU member. Sir, it’s a 100 percent match — which is impossible, of course. She’s dead.”

  Hunter didn’t seem bothered by that statement at all. “Did you trace it? Where was the caller?” He sat down now, fully involved in what he had just heard.

  “It was spiffed, sir! And I mean spiffed in a major way.”

  He sighed. “English, please.”

  Leonard took over. “It was blocked. And by blocked I don’t mean caller ID; it was rerouted through an encrypted subnetwork. Sir, in summary, whoever did this, they are good.”

  “How good?”

  Leonard looked over at Jeremy. “Sir, it’s the best we have ever seen. The person that did this would be a genius. It’s a work of art; it’s better than anything we have at the agency, anything.

  “It gets better. There’s more. So, we couldn’t trace the call, but we could do one thing, one of Jeremy’s tricks.”

  Jeremy spoke excitedly. “We holed out and cold-called it.”

  “What he means is,” Leonard added, “we were able to get the call that came from the same phone seconds before this call. It turned out it wasn’t a call. She picked up and started to dial, then stopped; that’s how we got it.”

  “Play it.”

  Jeremy started the playback.

  Miss? Is the phone broken again...

  Miss! Are you OK?

  You! What’s your name?

  Mike, everyone calls me Mikey.

  Mike, Mikey, is this a sick joke?

  It’s 2013. What is this?

  Miss. I don’t understand. It is 2014. It’s September 2014.

  (Then the sound of a buzzer and a door closing,

  then the call ended.)

  Leonard and Jeremy both smiled with pride. They played the full call to Dianne for Hunter three times.

  “Sir, here is where it gets really weird. So we figured it must be a tape of her, a recording, since she is dead. Get this. It’s not. It’s not a recording, not a copy; we ran the software on it, it’s real. Sir, that’s not possible; we read her file, just like you. She had a terminal genetic disease. She couldn’t be alive when this call was made; it’s not medically possible.”

  “It’s possible,” Hunter responded, rubbing his eyes.

  “Sir?” Jeremy asked.

  “She isn’t dead.”

  “But, sir . . . ”

  He cut them off, “Here is what I want. One of you focus on the call. I want every sound analysis we have done on it. I want to know what season it is, what angle the sun is, what type of shoes she was wearing, everything. By the end of the week I want to know who manufactures that buzzer and where they are used. The other — you can draw straws to decide — I want to focus on Dianne. I want every resource we have watching her. She told Nikki to contact her again; when she does, I want everything. Make sure her cell is owned by us, nothing left out, nothing.”

  They both nodded. He knew they were the best; that’s why he pulled them onto his team. If anyone could do it, they could.

  “Sir, there’s something else,” Leonard added, almost whispering. “One thing we could track were pings, I mean people. There was another person tapping that phone.”

  “Dianne’s phone at the station?” Hunter asked.

  “No, sir, the mystery phone. The phone Nikki called on, someone had it tapped.”

  Hunter nodded his head. “Let’s keep that part between us, OK?

  “Guys, listen. This second tap: well, let’s just say I already had started to feel this was heating up. We need to go to level two.” The two techs both nodded.

  “I understand if you want to move onto something else. I know you have kids, wives. This could get dirty fast.”

  “No way,” the pair both said at once. “We need to see this through.”

  Hunter walked slowly into his private office and shu
t the door. He pulled the blinds and swung out the board. He posted a picture of Nikki on the board. In the center was a faded black and white photo of a man and next to him a color picture of a gorgeous woman.

  He talked to the wall almost every week. “Nikki, how are you involved in all this?” He actually felt he might be getting closer after all this time.

  And clearly so was someone else. It could be CIA; it was very possible. They could have a whole separate team on this; doubtful though, they had given up on this a long time ago, considering it a dead end.

  He looked back at the board. Maybe he should give it up as well. His reason for all of this was gone now. He sat down and pulled out the bottle. He had been mostly sober for a year now. His son would have been 10 in two days. He took a drink and closed his eyes.

  • • •

  Time Lapse

  Nikki felt so warm, so happy. The sun was shining. She opened her eyes. Alex! She jumped up and looked over to his bed. It was empty. Still in the same pink pajamas, she felt around the sheets and located her gun. Still there. Still loaded. And still no pain.

  For a moment, she thought about just staying there. She couldn’t remember feeling so good. If this was a dream, or if she was dead, she was in heaven. Maybe she should just stay. She felt the silk sheets between her fingers.

  Bacon? Did she smell food? It seemed all her senses were on overdrive. She still had the buzz in her head. It seemed less loud though, like background noise now.

  She walked down the hallway, following the smell. The place was enormous. She could get lost if she made the wrong turn. The smell became intense as she entered a huge kitchen, the biggest she had ever seen. It looked like a restaurant.

  She raised her gun, “Hey!”

  Alex turned around, “Nikki, you’re awake.”

  “Where’s Godfried?”

  “He’s here. He never works on the weekend, but he insisted he be here today.”

  As he spoke, Godfried entered the kitchen.

  “Miss! I’ve been making you a special breakfast.”

  “Godfried, I want to take a shower. Can you show me?”

  “Oh, miss. I’m sure Sir Alex can help you . . . ”

  She cut him off. “I want you to show me.” She realized she was using her gun as a pointer and lowered her weapon.

  He beamed with pride at her comment.

  “Of course, let me show you. I have a favorite shower, I think you will like it.”

  Favorite? she said to herself. So there are probably a hundred showers here.

  She met Alex’s eyes. He looked worried, almost sad. She scowled at him. She felt bad after she did it, but what the hell! He went back to his work with the food.

  Godfried showed her to a huge room, the most awesome shower room she’d ever seen. If she wasn’t in this situation she would kiss the floor.

  “You don’t trust Alex, miss?”

  “I trust you more.”

  “I see.” He beamed again. “I assure you, he would never harm you, not in a million years.”

  She sighed. “Would you mind waiting outside? I mean, by the door.”

  “Of course not. Take your time. I put some clothes in the closet for you. I think they will fit; let me know if they suit your style.”

  Godfried shut the door behind him. Nikki stepped out of her bright pink pajamas and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked good. Actually great. Her body was tone and tan. How was it possible? She was so sick before. Her skin had been pale. She had stopped looking at herself in the mirror toward the end.

  Her gun was really becoming annoying. She set it on the vanity, figuring she might as well just give it to Godfried. She clearly had lost her mind and wasn’t going to shoot either of them; she still wasn’t sure why. She looked at herself again. It was like she was looking at a model; it couldn’t be her.

  The water was like heaven, the perfect temperature. She lost track of time. The steam and heat filled her senses. Her mind slowed down a bit as she tried not to think about the insanity for awhile. Her mind had told her to run, run now! But something else told her the world had changed. She couldn’t explain what she was feeling; it made no sense. She was different. Something had changed inside her. She felt alive, energized. Her emotions seemed amplified, and then her senses, almost like a volume knob had been turned all the way up.

  She thought about Alex. She actually hadn’t stopped thinking about him since she woke up the other day. He clearly could have killed her. They let her drive away, why? Was it a long con? A way to gain her trust? But that made no sense. She didn’t have any money; she was worth no ransom. None of it made sense.

  Then there was the most pressing matter. She was dead. She tried to block it from her mind. The diagnosis had been clear; there was no cure. It had been almost a year, and yet she was stronger, healthier than she had ever been. It wasn’t possible.

  She focused on slowing down her breathing and it calmed her. She focused on the steam and the glorious water, her mind clearing, the racing thoughts slowing down. She closed her eyes and let the water surround her.

  Almost an hour must have passed. She shut the water off and stepped out onto the warm floor. She dried off and pulled on a thick white robe that was waiting for her.

  It was like a wave, a huge wave hitting her all at once. She started to cry. She fell to her knees, put her head down and cried, uncontrollably. She saw it as if it was happening right then. She saw his eyes as he pulled her back to the ledge — the look of fear in his eyes, fear that she would fall.

  “Miss! Are you OK in there? I’m going to call Sir Alex!”

  Alex slowly opened the door. “Nikki, it’s me, Alex. May I come in?” He looked inside.

  She nodded her head, she was sobbing and it shot through him like a knife.

  He opened the door. She looked so sad, totally broken inside. He had known that feeling himself, when you begin to feel the change inside you, the realization that the world will never be the same. He tried to speak and nothing came out.

  He sat down next to her. “I’m sorry, Nikki.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. “Why? You saved me. I remember now; you pulled me back onto the ledge. Am I dead now? What’s wrong with me?”

  “You’re not dead, Nikki, far from it.”

  “I’m sick, I think I’m sick, Alex. I saw you fall. You fell saving me. How can you be alive? It’s not possible.”

  He took her hand. He felt warm and strong at the same time. She didn’t try to pull away. She didn’t care that she was sitting on the floor in a robe. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. She tried to wipe her tears, but they came faster than she could clear them away.

  “Nikki, you are not sick. I will explain everything, I promise. I am to blame for this, all of this. I understand if you hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you. I don’t understand. I feel lost. I remember it all now, I saw your eyes when you pulled me up. You were scared. You were scared I was going to fall. You sat next to me when I was sick. Why? How did I get here? My mind feels like it won’t stop!”

  “Do you want me to leave? I apologize for coming in. I was worried for you.”

  “No! I mean, not now. Just sit with me. Can you just sit with me for awhile? I don’t want to be alone.”

  “We can sit for as long as you wish.”

  She felt herself grip his hand harder. She looked at the gun by her side. She kicked it away and it slid across the floor. She closed her eyes and put her head on his shoulder.

  He softly touched her hair. It felt soothing beyond all reason. She could feel herself drifting off again. This time she didn’t try to stop it. There was no fear anymore. He had saved her, somehow he had. Her memories were clear now. She saw him sitting by her bed for what must have been months. He looked worried. She could see his face like it was happening today. He clearly was not a killer. Somehow he had been there for her, that was all that mattered. She felt safe now, safe and warm. She felt his hand on h
er hair and felt electrified. She closed her eyes and started to dream.

  • • •

  Strangers

  Rebecca opened the balcony doors and took in the view. The Eiffel Tower glowed in the distance. It lit up the sky like a master painting.

  She lit a cigarette and leaned against the rail. It wasn’t the same; it never was, not after she left. She thought back to the last time she had cried. She saw Mia, asking for her mother. She remembered Mia holding her hand so tightly as they arrived in New York City; she was so scared, and so brave at the same time.

  The flashbacks never ended. She had stopped crying at some point, so many years ago she couldn’t remember now. Maybe she had forgotten how to cry. The world had changed, and she had changed with it. Alex never changed. He was the same. She hated him for that. Of course, she knew she was lying to herself. She loved him more than she could comprehend. She tried so hard to forget him. It was useless. She would never forget. She could never stop loving him.

  She heard breathing behind her. No place was safe. They would always find her. She didn’t lock the doors; what did it matter? Everything had come down to this. She had to be flawless. The slightest mistake and it would be over. The decades of planning — it all hinged on her acting tonight.

  “Is it done?”

  She slowly turned around and faced him. He was hideous. Even in the dim light she could see the skin hanging from his face like a death mask. He looked even older than before, which wasn’t possible, of course.

  “And if he didn’t? You will kill me right here? Why not just get it over with? You are done with me anyway.”

  “We still require your assistance. He will listen to you.”