Termination Notice (Action Girl Thrillers)

by A. D. Phillips

  Lucy stepped out of the car and walked briskly toward the gate. She seemed to have shook off her hangover. There were no wobbles or head-rubs along the way. No sleepy eyes. Lucy bore the expression of a soldier in enemy territory, constantly on the lookout for unexpected trouble. She approached the barred entrance, stared directly into the camera above, and gave the electric buzzer a firm press. It beeped in acknowledgement, then fell silent. After five seconds Lucy tried the doorbell again. And then a third time.

  “Are you alone?” Adrian asked through the intercom.

  “You’ve got enough eyes,” Lucy said aggressively. “See for yourself.”

  The security camera rotated to the extreme right - past Lucy - then the other way.

  “Worried I brought the cops?” she enquired. “Is there a reason I should have?”

  “Thought you might be with that reporter woman. Kristina Malloy. She’s been leaving messages on my phone all evening. She wants my perspective on Fitzroy, why I hired him to work at Taurus. Don’t know what she wants me to say. It’s not like I knew the psycho personally.”

  “It’s her job to ask difficult questions.” Lucy spoke with soft-voiced innocence, and kept a straight face. “I’m alone, Adrian. Are you going to let me in?”

  There was a loud buzz, and the electronic lock disengaged. Lucy stepped through the gates as soon as the gap was wide enough, and walked around the statue to the gloomy front porch. She was already at the door when Adrian unfastened the catch. He was dressed in his work clothes - minus the suit - with his silk tie hung loose around the unbuttoned collar.

  Lucy shoved past him without waiting for an invitation.

  “Come right in,” Adrian said. He waited for the gate to close all the way before he shut the door. “I don’t mind.”

  Adrian followed Lucy into the living area. Television and computers were switched off. So were most of the lights.

  Lucy circled around the futon, and pressed the squashed down cushions. “So this is where you were, sweating away in the dark. Why weren’t you at the office? Something on your mind?”

  “What? Like having a gun pointed at me?” Adrian retorted. “That might be a normal day for you, but for me it was intense. I thought I’d take a break. Work from home.”

  He opened a cabinet door - black glass with a chrome handle, matching the other furniture - and took out two long-stemmed glasses. The crystal decanter was an exact copy of the one in the Taurus president’s office, except with red wine in place of water.

  “Not for me,” Lucy said. “I’ve decided to quit drinking. But if it makes you feel better about things.” She leant against a wall. From there she had a full view of the living room. “It’s not like you to leave someone else in charge, Adrian. You’ve always had a more… hands-on approach.”

  Adrian stopped pouring, with only a tiny amount of wine in his glass. He left it where it was, put down the decanter, and turned around slowly. “What’s going on, Lucy?” he asked forebodingly. “Something’s happened.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Stop playing games,” said Adrian impatiently. “You storm into my house. Give me wary, suspicious looks. Ask where I was. Whatever you’ve found—”

  “Gordon Levitt’s dead.” Lucy did nothing to soften the news. “So is Jenna.”

  “What!?”

  Adrian staggered back into the cabinet. He looked as rattled as the glasses and decanter. Lucy stepped past the futon, and put herself between Adrian and the exit.

  “They were both strangled,” she stated bluntly. “Tonight. In your building. Someone tried to kill me, too. Only he screwed up.”

  Adrian gripped the cabinet to steady himself. “But I thought Fitzroy…”

  “He didn’t do it. But we know the killer worked for Taurus.” Lucy’s eyes bored into Adrian. “Or still does.”

  “You don’t think…” Adrian gasped without finishing the question. “You’re wrong.”

  “I’d like to believe you.” A quick blink, then Lucy’s icy gaze returned. “But with all the deaths at your company, we’re starting to run out of suspects. Do you have an alibi?”

  Adrian was left speechless. The cabinet wobbled behind him.

  “Can I take that as a no?” Lucy asked.

  “If it makes you feel safe…” Adrian raised his clammy hands. “Arrest me. How did that work out the last time? I thought we’d made a connection. Obviously I was wrong.”

  “Where were you, Adrian?” Lucy pressed.

  Adrian’s steely resistance seemed to collapse. “Right here,” he said weakly. “I’ve got cameras all over my house, but they don’t prove anything. I could have altered the timestamps. But I didn’t. I know this looks bad, but I didn’t kill Jenna. Or Sophie. Or the others. All I’m asking for is a little faith.”

  “Don’t know if you’ve seen the news, but I’m off the case. After I saved you from Fitzroy, I got suspended. Faith’s in short supply right now. I’m not sure whether the man standing in front of me has genuine feelings, or if he’s playing a twisted game. So until the case is over, we should—”

  “Wait a minute,” interrupted Adrian. He paced about in thought, hand on his chin. “You said the killer attacked you?”

  “Took me by surprise. Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”

  “But there was a struggle?” Adrian’s mouth remained open when he’d finished.

  “I got in a few blows here and there. Took a shot at him with a magnum. Unfortunately, I ran out of bullets.”

  Adrian ripped off his tie and discarded it on the cabinet. Lucy - looking somewhat perplexed - remained still as he unbuttoned his shirt. Adrian pulled his left arm through the sleeve, and gave it a sharp, powerful tug to force his hand past the cuff.

  “I want to show you something,” he said, breathing quicker.

  Lucy watched Adrian go through the same routine with his right arm. Adrian’s sweaty shirt slipped off his hairless, smoothly-toned back, and floated down to land behind his feet. Seen in the dim light, Adrian’s naked chest had a bronze-brown, waxy texture. Sweat had collected around his firm nipples and shallow belly button. He was a perfectly healthy man, with no sign of scarring.

  “Seen it all before,” Lucy said. “There’s no point in looking for bullet holes. Like I said, I missed.”

  “But you hit this guy. Can you see any bruises?”

  Adrian turned round and bent over so light spread to his curved back. He placed his hands on the cabinet shelf corners, and lowered his waist so Lucy had a full, unrestricted view. There wasn’t a mark on him.

  Lucy’s glare softened a little. “No I can’t,” she agreed. “Take off your pants and shoes.”

  “It’s been a while since you asked me to do that.”

  Adrian was smiling when he turned to face Lucy, but she remained deadly serious. She stepped away and put a few feet between them. Adrian followed her instructions, beginning with the laced black shoes. Adrian unfastened his leather belt, dropped his pants, and kicked them off his foot. His genitals bulged under his golden-yellow briefs.

  Lucy kicked the trousers behind her, and stamped down firmly on the leather belt. “Don’t get too excited. Just taking precautions. Your right foot. Lift it up.”

  Adrian - looking bemused - did as requested. Lucy grabbed his ankle and felt the ridge of his foot. First soft prods, then probing flicks with her index finger, and finally a fierce backhand slap.

  Lucy gauged Adrian’s reaction the whole time, and squeezed his toes for a few seconds when she’d completed her tests. There were no squirms. No sudden jolts of pain. Nothing to suggest she’d made Adrian uncomfortable, or triggered any pain. Lucy released her grip. Though still wary, she appeared satisfied.

  Adrian exhaled sharply, and rubbed his swollen toes. “Don’t tell me you kicked this guy in the balls too.” He cringed as he gave his privates a nervy grope.

  “You can put your clothes back on now.” Lucy stepped off the belt. “I’ve seen everything I need to.�
��

  Adrian collected his trousers. “But not everything you’d like to?” He paused to pull the pants above his briefs. “You know, there’s still enough wine for two.”

  “I need to stay alert,” Lucy said coldly. “I’m not drinking while there’s a killer out there.”

  “Just when I thought I’d softened you up, out comes the ice maiden.”

  “Two people died tonight,” Lucy reminded Adrian pointedly. “So enough with the flirting. This isn’t one of your damn games, where you press a button and they magically spring back to life. Jenna and Levitt are dead. That makes it four people this bastard’s killed. It could have been five. Because I let my emotions get the better of me. So forgive me for keeping this strictly professional.”

  Adrian left his shirt off, and edged closer to Lucy. “I wouldn’t call it strictly professional. A visit in the early morning hours to give a suspect a strip search. Strictly speaking, this isn’t any of your business. Now that you’re suspended.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a personal interest in the strangler case now. It started when he tried to kill me. And you seem awfully cool about his latest victims.”

  “It’s just my way of coping.” Adrian looked down guiltily. “I have been thinking about it. All evening, and that was before you told me Fitzroy wasn’t the killer. When that reporter finds out about Gordon and Jenna… I should get some rest. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Adrian headed to the door. When he realised Lucy hadn’t followed, he turned to see her leant against the futon backrest.

  “Somebody should watch the house,” she said in answer to his curious glance. “Since we’re both targets, it makes sense for us to stay close.”

  “I’ll show you the security room.”

  Adrian escorted Lucy out into the hallway, and directed her to the left. “So we’re clear,” he said, “you’re staying at my house for professional reasons.”

  “For professional reasons,” Lucy confirmed, though she didn’t sound wholly convinced.

  Adrian smiled in response. He took Lucy past a framed Crimson Shadow poster, opened a black glass, chrome-handled door, and extended a flat palm to show Lucy inside.

  “Just like at Taurus,” she observed.

  Except for the smaller scale - approximately four to one - and more limited camera coverage, Adrian’s home security setup was a carbon copy of Gordon Levitt’s. A wall of monitors displayed live feeds from various interior rooms, front garden, swimming pool, and cul-de-sac. The desk and swivel chair were identical to those in the Taurus security office. The only notable differences were the missing guard and weapon. When Lucy checked the drawers, they were empty.

  “Right down to the furniture,” she said. “Is this an empire building thing?”

  “If I find something works well enough the first time…” Adrian remained near the door and watched Lucy affectionately. “I like to hang onto it. Something I learned from a mistake I made a long time ago.”

  Lucy ignored the thinly-veiled compliment, and watched the streamed images. “You like to make copies. Are there are any backups of the company server room drives? The killer wiped the security footage.”

  “I asked Tania to do some analysis. Based on her findings, I came to the conclusion it would be too expensive and impractical to store multiple files.” Adrian noticed a disdainful glance from Lucy. “How was I supposed to know someone would sabotage my company from within? Go on a killing spree? Whoever the strangler is, he knows everything about me. The night he killed Sophie, he shut down the security system here. Now he’s done the same thing at Taurus. He knows I don’t keep backups. Any evidence that was on those hard drives is gone for good.”

  ***

  Tania slid her Taurus Studios ID through a reader just inside the server room door. Unseen locks clunked within the frame. Pressurised air hissed as vacuum seals expanded at the top and bottom. An indicator light changed colour from green to red. There was a prolonged beep, and the temperature readout on the thermostat was replaced by text: Environment Secure.

  Tania made her way past the damaged hard drives, and stepped over a snaking power cord. Smashed glass fragments had been swept into tidy piles, and the strip lights replaced. Despite the repair work, electronic systems were barely functional. Wires criss-crossed all over the place, clipped to exposed circuit boards.

  Tania paused to check an orange-red cable that connected a mostly intact data bank to the central console. With a nod of approval, she ducked through a metre-wide gap between two wires, and moved around the console to the only active terminal.

  “All right,” Tania said to herself. “Let’s open a back door.”

  Faced with a flashing prompt, she touch-typed a series of complex commands: abbreviated instructions followed by alphanumeric, non-intuitive filenames and slashes. Tania’s eyes alternated between the monitor and sealed entrance. Even when the programmer wasn’t looking at the screen, she rattled off keystrokes without making a single error. When she finished, Tania pressed the enter key with a self-satisfied smile.

  Icons appeared on screen: floppy disks for executable files, paper sheets for documents, and folders to designate directories. Tania moved the mouse pointer over a folder labelled SECURITY SYSTEM BACKUP, double clicked to open it, and selected a camera icon numbered 305.

  “What have you been hiding, Mister Pryce?” Tania asked rhetorically.

  A captioned window opened on the screen, and played surveillance footage of the president’s office. The camera was fitted above the door, with a forty-five degree, front-down angle of Adrian’s desk. A slight greenish tint suggested the images had been recorded at night, and a low-light filter applied.

  “Who are you shouting at?” Tania wondered aloud.

  Adrian paced heavily around his office and yelled at a mobile phone. He stormed off-camera then back into view. With no audio, the context was a mystery. After a lengthy monologue, Adrian threw the cellphone on his desk.

  Tania paused the high-definition video, and used a zoom-in function to centre on the phone’s screen. Underneath a thumb-sized Taurus Studios logo was a name. Miles Dawson.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lucy snored peacefully, shirt sleeve fluttering under her nose. Her squashed cheek nested in the crook of her armpit, providing protection from the hard-surfaced desk in Adrian’s security suite. Lucy’s discarded shoes lay under her stretched-out legs. The plastic heels jammed beneath the wheeled tri-bar acted as a wedge, and prevented the swivel chair sliding back. Fortunately for Lucy, whose buttocks were delicately perched on the seat cushion edge.

  The monitor bank emitted a series of chimes - a classic burglar alarm sound effect. Lucy began to stir, still half asleep as she scratched her chin. Then she jerked upright, and almost fell off the chair. Grabbing the desk for support, Lucy lifted herself back onto the cushion. Her eyes were wide open now, sharply focused on the screens.

  Red text flashed over an image of the swimming pool: Motion Detected. The same message was on another monitor that showed the side path. A ground floor window was wide open. Chipped wood and splintered paintwork suggested its frame had been forced. Sunlit patches brightened the surrounding bricks. Lucy checked the time on the screen caption: 07:52.

  “Shit,” she exclaimed.

  Lucy sprang to her feet and opened her mouth, about to yell. She clammed up when she saw the frenzy of activity out front. News vans - identifiable from painted network logos, roof-mounted satellite dishes, and antennae - were parked outside the gates. Television reporters in winter coats stood beyond the bars, backs to the security camera as they talked into cordless microphones.

  Lucy scanned the other monitors. Adrian was sound asleep in bed - with her anxious face reflected over the dark backdrop - but there was no sign of an intruder. Lucy pointed to the kitchen camera that showed a rack of sharp, gleaming knives on a black, L-shaped counter. She glanced down at her shoes, but opted to leave them behind.

  Lucy stepped into the hall. Her nylon stoc
kings insulated her footsteps. The burglar alarm dropped in volume as Lucy slid the security room door closed. Breathing quietly and treading on her tiptoes, she began her search.

  ***

  A flashlight beam moved across an obsidian-black, altar-like computer desk. The simplistic, solid glass cuboid had eight inbuilt, chrome-handled drawers - four at either end - and a carved-out recess for legroom, but was otherwise featureless. Loose paper, sketches, and spreadsheet printouts were scattered around a luxurious, leather-cushioned office chair. Beneath the strewn litter, the wooden floor was a black sheet that seemed to absorb any light that fell on it.

  The intruder - a hunched, shadow-cloaked figure wearing dark clothes and surgical gloves - rifled through the upper left drawer. More papers piled on those already dumped. So did plastic document wallets, a sticky-note pad, and miscellaneous stationery. Wind whistled through the open window, followed by a wooden clack as the damaged frame swung shut. Once the disturbed papers had settled, the intruder gently closed the drawer and moved onto the next.

  “Freeze!” Lucy yelled.

  Light shone from the hallway, giving the knife she carried a silvery glint. Its serrated blade looked sharp enough to cut through bone. Lucy held it edge-on, angled across her chest. Her stance was menacing, her knees slightly bent. If required, she was ready to strike a deadly blow.

  The intruder didn’t move a muscle as Lucy flipped the light switch. A row of wall lamps - milky-white pyramids in chrome settings - illuminated Adrian’s study. Momentarily blinded, Lucy saw a crouched silhouette point a handgun. She blinked as her eyesight adjusted.