by Mark Lingane
They entered the archive offices. Maud and Hanson gave each other a double-cheek kiss. The smell of dust and mildew hit them immediately. The outer walls of the building were stone. Moss grew on the inside. Chambers and Hanson hesitated. The smell was different. It could have been the books.
Maud beckoned them into her office. Several ancient tomes were stacked on an equally old trellis table. A press was clamped onto the edge, fastening a sheaf of sheets. An old Edison bulb hung suspended above the desk on a wire that rose into the dark vaults above. The light reflected off the edge of an oversized guillotine, scissored open.
The rows of books creaked and groaned under the weight of ages. Information, unchanged and unquestioned, declared the absolute of their truth to all who dared inquire. You wanted facts? You came with your head bowed, meek and respectful with your white silk gloves.
Maud smiled at Chambers. “I’m not calling you by your surname.”
“Call me Reggie.” He flashed a diamond smile as bright as a sunrise on a summer day.
Maud smiled back shyly and turned to Hanson. “What’s so important that you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”
“We need info. Company records. We’re looking for the address and significant individuals of Times Squared,” Hanson replied.
“And you’re sure there’s nothing online?”
“My searches didn’t reveal anything and only attracted unwanted attention.”
“I’ll get the business directory.” Maud disappeared into one of the archive areas.
“You want to tell me who’s following us?” Chambers hissed.
Hanson stiffened. Her mind switched back to her chase. “I don’t know. I thought it was our lot, but the men who chased me were private. I think there could be a group of people of which the police and maybe the military are a part.”
“Like the Illuminati?”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe Times Squared will give us some clues.”
Maud coughed from the distant room.
“How do you know her?” Chambers asked.
“We were at university together. In art history.”
“I’m glad to see you’ve put it to good use.”
“I thought I might meet some boys,” Hanson replied defensively.
“In art history?”
“Sure. I thought they might join it to meet girls.”
Chambers shrugged. The logic was passable if ridiculously optimistic and idealistic. “You should’ve just gone down to the pub.”
“What kind of man would I meet there?”
“One like me.”
“As if I’d want to do that.” She laughed.
“Is she single?”
“Maud? No. She’s got loads of boyfriends. Sleeps around heaps.”
“So she’s experienced? I like a woman who knows what she’s doing. You look cross.”
“I’m not cross, I’m concerned. We have limited time and you’re wandering. Here she comes. Focus.”
Maud returned with a plain book several inches thick. It was a relatively new document, with a cardboard cover rather than leather. She thumped the volume down on the table and slid it over to Hanson, who opened it and started flicking through the pages.
“So, Reggie, have you been in the force long?”
“Since I was allowed. Started off in ordinance,” Chambers replied.
“Ordinance? Do you mean bombs? That sounds amazingly exciting and brave.”
Hanson glanced up at them. Maud had sidled in close to Chambers, rubbing elbows.
“Chambers, why don’t you get the Henderson details,” Hanson said. “Alan Henderson. We’re looking for an address. Henderson is a soldier. He’ll be on the electoral roll, on a base list.”
“Births and deaths. Third row from the end. On the left,” Maud said. She watched Chambers stride away and sighed.
“Stop staring; it’s rude,” Hanson said without looking up.
“Are you sleeping with him yet?”
“What? How can you say that? I’m with Rod.”
Maud laughed and turned back to face Hanson, placing her hands on the table. She leaned in close with mischief in her eyes. “I can see the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you when you’re not looking.”
“I don’t look at him in any … did you say he looks at me?”
“Ah-ha. You fancy him rotten.”
“I so do not.”
“Do.”
“I’m not engaging in this conversation.”
“Then why are you grinning from ear to ear?”
“Shush. I’m not.”
“So, what’s he like in bed?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t.” Hanson glanced around. “We haven’t done anything,” she whispered.
“But you want to. Really bad. I can see.”
“No. Never. I have Rod. That is the decision.”
“Then can I have him?”
“Do what you want. You’re your own person.”
“You won’t mind?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Stop it.” Hanson turned a page and calmed her nerves. “Anyway, he’s not interested.”
“You’re blind. You don’t deserve him.”
“Hey. You’re meant to be my friend.”
“Not when you have men like that around you. All bets, like my panties will be, are off.” Maud glanced up. “Where is he?”
“He’s probably lost. It was three instructions.”
“Oh, here he comes. And so do I.”
Hanson’s head snapped up. Chambers was struggling under a stack of ancient tomes.
“Don’t be vulgar. You’re meant to be studious, with glasses and everything.”
Chambers placed the H volume on the desk and started to search through it.
“Maud, the page is missing,” Hanson said, showing Maud the business directory.
“That’s impossible.” Maud flicked through the pages, flipping back and forth. Her eyes lit up as she swiped the pages back to the front. She pulled out a small card from a pocket inside the cover and gave Hanson a lopsided smile. “Checkout card.”
“Like at university? Who still does that?”
“Progress is slow here.” Maud ran her finger down the list of names on the card until she reached the last entry. “Last week. Can’t read the name. Actually, more like initials.”
“You’ve got CCTV in here?”
“Yes.” She indicated the small black camera in a corner of the hall.
Maud led Hanson into the small security room and powered up the recording system. They stared at the blurry black-and-white footage.
“Honestly, what are you meant to tell from this?” Hanson said.
“I said progress is slow here. Wait. He’s new. I don’t recognize him.”
They watched the figure move across the screen in stop-motion; one frame every three seconds.
“Who’s the old guy?”
“That’s the director,” Maud replied.
“Who’s that next to him?” Hanson squinted at the image. “It looks like …” She stood up slowly. The room suddenly felt small and dark. Her skin went cold as fear crawled up her spine. She turned around. Maud was gone.
“… you.”
The metal bar came crashing down on her head, knocking her unconscious.
“Where’s Tracy?” Chambers said. He was still looking through the H volume.
“She’s freshening up,” Maud replied.
“The Henderson page is also missing.” He tapped the cover of the volume.
Maud grabbed the book, her face a mask of concern. “Really? That can’t be.” She searched through the pages.
“You been friends long?”
“Since university.”
“What did you study?” Chambers asked.
“Physics.”
“Tracy said you met in art history.”
“Oh, yes, we did. Yes. I meant art. Physics mino
r. But a secret love.”
“Strange combo.” He stared into her face. “You seem young to get such a great job. You must’ve been lucky or known the right people. And, of course, being as pretty as you are …”
She slowed her search through the pages. The lights flickered.
“It’s odd,” Chambers said, “you’d think people desperate enough to wipe info about Times Squared on the Internet would do something about this place.”
She paused momentarily as she turned the pages. “Do you think we’re in danger?” She didn’t look up.
“Hard to know.”
“I’m sure I’m safe with you.” She licked her finger and turned the page. Her fingers wrapped around the bar hidden in her pocket.
“Don’t know if anyone’s safe. They seem to know everything Hanson’s going to do. But not everything that I’m going to do.” He pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket.
Maud glanced down at the page then up into his face. Her face twisted into disappointment.
“They know everything!” Maud said.
She swung the metal bar, catching him on the side of the head.
34
HANSON REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS to a repetitive thud. Her hands were behind her back, fastening her to a chair in Maud’s office. The sharp smell of petrol filled her nostrils.
“Hanson, you all right? You awake?” Chambers voice came over her shoulder. Turning her head, she saw they were tied back to back.
“I’ve got a killer headache.” She flexed her arms, feeling the tightness of the bonds. Thud. Thud.
“Some friend you’ve got there, Hanson, tying us up like this.”
“She wasn’t that much of a friend. She kept running off with my boyfriends. But she was here when I needed her.” Thud. Thud.
“Convenient, that.”
“It sure is warm in here.” Thud. Thud.
“You’d think with the high roof it’d be cooler.”
“Listen to you, Mr. Grand Designs.” She fought against her bonds. It was impossible. The more she struggled the tighter they gripped, and the deeper the plastic ties cut into her wrists. Thud. Thud.
“Maud’s been a while,” Chambers said. “I thought she’d take the chance to perform an evil-genius monologue.”
“Do you smell something?” Thud. Thud.
“Yes. You thinking,” Chambers replied.
“I’m being serious. Burning.”
The smell of burning paper filled her nose. Smoke started to filter into the room from the ceiling down. Thud. Thud.
She started to cough. Flames licked around the doorway.
“Chambers. Reggie, there’s something I want to tell you.”
“Can’t it wait?”
She stared at the flames as they gripped the inside of the office. In an instant, the dancing yellow and orange was everywhere, crawling up the walls and over every surface.
“I don’t know if we can get out of this one.” Her emotions swelled, and tears dripped down her face before evaporating in the heat. The thudding continued, now rocking her chair.
She paused. Thud. Thud. “What are you doing back there?”
“You’d be amazed how many times I hear that,” he panted. Thud. Crack. “Quick, down on your knees.”
“You’d be amazed at how many times I don’t hear that.” Hanson was pitched forward, crashing down onto her shoulder. The jarring pain stabbed through her.
“I need you to wiggle with me,” he said. “I’ve knocked the guillotine off the desk. It’s the only sharp edge I can see.”
They bumped and twisted their way across the floor as smoke continued to pour in and fire engulfed the room. Chambers could sense Hanson weakening. He maneuvered the guillotine between them, feeling for the edge. He slipped the plastic bonds in between the sharp edges.
“I’m sorry if I cut off your fingers,” he called over his shoulder.
Hanson coughed.
He squeezed the handle and the blade cut through the bonds. They pulled themselves free of the ties and staggered up. The shelves cracked and books from the top levels cascaded down. Chambers leaped over the sliding pile, catching his feet. He turned and beckoned to her, but she froze.
“Quick!” He held out his hand for her.
Another series of shelves collapsed behind her. Chambers dashed back through the fire and grabbed her, pulling her through the flames. They charged to the rear service door. The solid sheet of ancient oak and steel was locked.
“Let me think.” Hanson placed her fingers against her forehead and closed her eyes. “We’ll have to go through the front door. They’re glass panes.”
“You want to break glass in a fire and let in fresh oxygen?”
“It’s all we’ve got.”
They turned to face the inferno in front of them. The entire building was awash with flame. They covered their mouths and dashed forward. Shelves splintered and broke, the wood exploding under the intense heat.
“Where are the sprinklers?” Hanson said. “These places drown in HSE rules and regulations expecting disasters like this.”
Another beam cracked and tumbled to the ground, smashing a dozen shelves on the way. They leaped over the broken beams and fallen shelves toward the entrance. And on a table in the center of the foyer, stapled to the wood with a pair of scissors, was a collection of pages. The missing pages.
Chambers picked up a flaming chair and smashed it against the glass doors. The glass rocked under the repeated blows.
Hanson turned to face the desk, step by step. Time slowed as she approached.
The clang of Chambers smashing into the glass boomed out behind her. Then he picked up a small podium, charged at the doors, and flung the piece through. The glass shattered. Cool air rushed in, and the room exploded.
“Hanson, come, now!”
“No, the address.” She snapped her head around toward Chambers. “We need it.”
One. Zero.
The draw toward the paper was irresistible. Her hands distractedly reached out and froze; she was lost in the inferno.
A small window next to Chambers exploded, showering him with glass and wood, with once piece smashing into his head. He staggered around, dazed and disorientated.
The information was within her grasp. The beam above them creaked. Hanson closed her eyes momentarily in desperation. She turned and charged toward Chambers, grabbing the stunned man around the waist and they both staggered back. The beam cracked and fell across the desk where Hanson had been standing. Zero. One.
They tumbled out through the shattered doors as the fire intensified. Glass windows blew out and paper exploded up into the night sky. They crashed down into the small pond, extinguishing their burning clothes. The swans panicked and flapped away. More windows erupted as the flames continued to destroy the building. They crawled out of the water and watched the building burn.
“We lost the information,” Hanson sighed.
“Not quite. I got the name of Times Squared’s CEO. Clive Poundriff. You heard of him before?”
“That can’t be right. He’s the CEO of Candle Fire.”
“He also owns the other buildings.”
“Is that why you took so long? I thought you were lost.”
“I know how a library works.”
The burning pages fluttered down around them.
“This was deliberate,” he said. “You don’t destroy hundreds of years of information unless it’s saying something you don’t want said. She did a bit of weird gloating before you came around. Said history is written by the winners.”
“What if we’re in the middle of an information war? Records are disappearing. Are we fighting against someone … or something?”
“Whatever it is, we’re being seriously hunted as a result. I’m not sure how long we’ve got until something final happens.”
“We’ve got tonight.”
“But the information we were after is gone. What now?”
She rolled over, rested her hea
d on his chest and winked.
“You didn’t tell me she kissed you.” Hanson said.
They were hurrying along the street, away from the growing chorus of emergency-vehicle sirens. She could feel her temper rising as the image of Maud and Chambers together gnawed away at her.
“In a weird psycho-bitch way.”
“Did you kiss her back?”
“You don’t want to waste an opportunity. Could’ve been dead minutes later.”
The comment dug into Hanson like a dagger. “How could you kiss her?”
“I didn’t kiss her back. Anyway, she was all teeth and tongue. No sense of grace, just desperation. I didn’t really enjoy it, definitely not as much as she did.”
“Stop it. I don’t want to hear.” She clasped her hands over her ears and ran ahead.
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” Chambers ran to catch up.
“You can head off for a raunchy night with your bad girl. I’m getting the information,” she shouted over her shoulder.
Chambers grabbed her wrist and pulled her around. She slapped him across the face. He stood back, shocked.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Just for once why couldn’t …” it be me? “Why couldn’t you think above the waistline?” Just for once pick me.
“What is going on in your head?”
She glared at him. “Promise me you didn’t kiss her back.”
“What? Why is it so important?”
“Promise me!”
“Fine. I didn’t. I said it before and it was the truth. And I wouldn’t have under any other circumstances either. Tell me what’s so important.”
“It shows that I can trust you. It means you put duty before your own … feelings.”
Chambers shook his head. “Is that what you do?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Tracy, it’s always about you. Everything is about you. You won’t let anyone in, and you make the whole world about you and your ambition. And it makes you impossible. You hide behind your badge, your duty, saying it’s you. But it isn’t. You’re just scared, like all of us.”
“How dare you say that? You don’t understand. You don’t understand me.”
“I understand, all right. You’re on a crusade to be right. Because if you’re right you don’t have to stop to see who you are, or who you’ve become. Only in our mistakes, in our weaknesses, do we learn who we are. The big thugs back home are exactly like you. Afraid to stop spinning, because a top that doesn’t spin falls.”
