Revolution

by Shawn Davis

  “Are you going to tell me now?” he asked.

  “All right! All right! You got me! How did you know I was so ticklish?” she said between bursts of laughter.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Call it an educated guess.”

  “I can get us into the Underworld,” Nicole said, becoming serious.

  “You’re kidding me.” Peter said.

  If she’s telling the truth, I can’t believe my luck. No one could be this lucky in one day.

  “I know the Security Director for the Underworld, Tom Burke.” Brenton said. “He was the former Security Director for my company, Cryotech International. He left a few years back when the government offered him a better deal. I’ll give him a call and he’ll get us some passes.”

  “You can really do that?” Rayne asked, astonished.

  “Absolutely. We’re still friends. He’s a good guy. He’ll hook us up.”

  This is too much to believe. She can “hook us up” with passes to the most secure place in the world? It doesn’t seem possible.

  “I’ll give him a call right now,” Nicole said, getting up with the sheet wrapped around her body.

  Walking over to the phone on the night table, she dialed some numbers.

  “Can I speak to Tom Burke please? It’s Nicole Brenton.”

  A pause.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Another pause.

  “Hello, Tom? Hi, it’s Nicole. What have you been up to? Yeah, me too. Listen, I have a rather unusual request.”

  Another longer pause.

  “Okay, here it is. A close friend of mine and I would like to check out the Underworld. I was wondering if you could give us a quick tour?”

  A pause.

  “His name? Malcom Getty. He’s the son of the billionaire industrialist, Connor Getty. You’ve heard of him?”

  A long pause.

  “Oh, no. We don’t need to go into any of the classified areas or anything. We just want to check out the general setup,”

  A short pause.

  “You can? That’s great. When do we want to go?” She turned toward Rayne and raised her eyebrows.

  “You want to know when?” Peter asked.

  “Yeah, when do you want to go?” Nicole asked, impatiently.

  “How about tonight?”

  “Can we do it tonight?” Nicole asked. “We can? Eight o’clock? Where should we meet you?”

  A pause.

  “We’re staying in the Frump Tower,”

  Another pause.

  “Okay, great, we’ll meet you in the lobby at eight o’clock. Thanks a lot, Tom. I really owe you one. Just let me know if you ever need a favor.”

  A longer pause and a small laugh from Nicole.

  “Okay, Tom. I appreciate it. I’ll see you then.” She hung up the phone and smiled at Peter. “It’s all set up. Eight o’clock tonight.”

  Rayne glanced over at the clock on the night table.

  It’s 7:15 now. That means less than an hour from now I could be inside the nation’s most secure facility. Campion would never believe it.

  “Malcom, you look dazed. Are you all right?”

  “Sure, I’m just excited. I’ve always wanted to see the Underworld.”

  “You know, it might not be as exciting as you think.”

  “I doubt that. “ Rayne said, suppressing a grin.

  “All right, I’m going to take a shower,” Nicole said, taking long, confident strides toward the bedroom door. At the last moment, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “You can go after me.” She peeled the thin sheet off her body and dropped it to the carpet.

  Despite his intimate knowledge of her, Rayne couldn’t help checking her out again. Nicole saw his eyes widen involuntarily and she laughed as she left the room. At that moment, Peter thought he understood the Greeks’ obsession with Helen.

  It all makes sense. I can see why men would want to do anything for her. This guy, Tom, probably thinks he’ll get a chance to seduce her if he helps her out. What normal man could resist her?

  Rayne didn’t bother putting on the rest of his clothes because he anticipated taking a shower when Brenton was finished. He didn’t have long to wait. He thought she must have been excited for their upcoming tour as well because she returned in less than five minutes with a towel wrapped around her voluptuous figure.

  “Get going, Malcom. We don’t want to be late. He’s doing us a favor,” Nicole said as she took long strides across the carpet toward the walk-in closet.

  Rayne showered quickly, trying to calm his racing mind.

  Can this really be happening? Do I really have a chance of completing my mission tonight? I better hurry before something goes wrong.

  Peter got ready fast. In less than fifteen minutes, he was showered, shaved, dressed, and almost ready to go. He slicked back his hair with gel and put on Getty’s gold, horn-rimmed glasses.

  The disguise is complete.

  Nicole took a little longer. She sat down at her boudoir, staring into the mirror to apply makeup to her already beautiful face. When she was done, she looked even more dazzling than before.

  As if reading his mind, she said, “I’m almost ready, Malcom.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. No rush,” Rayne said, giving her a casual smile and sauntering out of the room.

  As soon as he was around the corner, he felt like he was going to have an anxiety attack. His heart was beating in his chest like a jackhammer.

  I can’t believe I’m this close! I have to calm down before I give myself away!

  Rayne returned to the bathroom and looked in the mirror again. Straightening his tie, he thought he would have fooled himself if he didn’t know better. Leaving the bathroom, he walked back down the hall to the bedroom. Brenton was nowhere in sight. He heard muffled sounds emanating from the walk-in closet.

  “Nicole?” he inquired.

  “I’m in here, Malcom. Putting on my dress. I’ll be right out.”

  Peter started pacing. He couldn’t help himself.

  Calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down. It’s no big deal. I’m going down into the bunker I’ve been trying to get to for the past three days. It’s no big deal. The fate of the government and the country may rest on what I’m about to do. It’s no big deal. Millions of people may be affected. No big deal.

  “Are you ready, Malcom?” Nicole asked.

  Turning, he saw her come out of the closet. She was wearing a tight black evening dress, which accentuated her gorgeous curves. It was all he could do not to stare again.

  “Sure. I’m a little excited. I’ve always wanted to see this place,” he said.

  “Well, so am I! I’ve never been there either. Very few people have!” Nicole exclaimed, walking up to him and placing her arm in his. “Shall we?” she asked.

  “You’re the boss, Madame,” Rayne said, imitating the pompous voice of one of the attendants from room service.

  Nicole laughed and they walked arm-in arm out of the bedroom. Rayne tried to blank out his mind so he thought about absolutely nothing. He concentrated on the carpet, the walls, and ceiling. He studied the furniture.

  Brenton disengaged herself from his arm when they reached the door. Opening it, she took the lead into the hallway.

  “Tom is going to meet us in the lobby,” she said. “From there, we’re taking his car to another location in the city. I don’t know where. He wouldn’t tell me. I think it’s classified, or something.”

  “Oh, okay,” Peter said, studying the paintings on the wall as they walked toward the elevator.

  Nicole pressed the “down” button when they reached the elevator. The doors opened and they stepped in. Peter felt a slight lift in his stomach as the elevator began a fast descent.

  “Wow, Malcom, you really must be anxious to see this place. You’re breaking out in a sweat,” Nicole said, observing the perspiration forming on his brow.

  “Oh, really?” Peter said, feeling his forehead and realizing his efforts to calm himself wer
en’t working.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal. Everybody gets excited about something,” Nicole said, laughing and putting her arm around him.

  “You’re right,” Peter agreed, placing his hand against the small of her back.

  Brenton removed her arm as the elevator stopped, the doors opened, and they stepped into the spacious ground-floor lobby. The lobby was two stories high and furnished with expensive, comfortable looking couches and chairs. A walkway cut through the living room environment to the glass front doors. Glancing right, Rayne saw a long check-in counter on the opposite wall manned by a virtual army of hotel concierges.

  As they walked down the center aisle, Rayne observed the many patrons lounging in the comfortable chairs and couches; they were talking, smoking cigarettes and cigars, laughing occasionally.

  They’re going to be surprised in about fourteen hours. Assuming this works.

  “There’s Tom. By the front doors,” Brenton said, pointing to a tall, thin gentleman wearing a fifteen-hundred-dollar gray suit. The gentleman spotted Nicole and walked toward her. They met and shook hands.

  “Good to see you, Tom.” Nicole said. “Tom, this is Malcom Getty of Cryogen Inc. Malcom this is Tom Burke, Security Director of the Underworld.”

  “Nice to meet you, Malcom,” Tom said, reaching out and shaking Peter’s hand.

  Rayne manufactured a fake smile and gave him a firm, confident handshake.

  “Nice to meet you,” Peter said, immediately sensing something wrong.

  What is it about this guy that is sending up red flags in my brain? He looks more than just familiar. He looks like someone I know intimately.

  The man in the suit had slicked-back, thinning black hair and wore gold, wire-rimmed glasses. He had a long, thin face and a perfectly straight nose. Peter’s face turned ashen when it suddenly came to him.

  It’s the same man who interrogated me.

  “Malcom, are you all right? You don’t look so well,” Nicole asked, placing her arm on his shoulder.

  “No, no, I’m fine. I must be coming down with something. I’m feeling a little out of sorts.”

  “Do you feel well enough to take the tour?” she asked.

  “Oh, sure, absolutely,” Peter said, looking away from his former interrogator for a moment. Garnering all his willpower, he turned toward him with a fake smile plastered on his pale face.

  “I’m sorry, Tom. I must be coming down with some sort of stomach flu. It just hit me quite suddenly.”

  “That’s okay, Malcom. Maybe it was something you ate,” Burke suggested.

  “I guess it’s possible. Our last meal was room service,” Brenton said.

  “Room service in the Tower is usually pretty good,” Burke said, narrowing his eyes as he studied Rayne’s face. “Malcom, I can’t help getting the feeling that we’ve met before. Is that possible?”

  “You also look quite familiar,” Peter said, feeling his heart beating so hard in his chest he thought it was going to explode.

  “I’m usually quite good with faces,” Tom said. “Right now, I can’t remember where we’ve met before. Give me some time and it will come back to me.”

  “Now that you mention it, it is possible that we’ve met before,” Rayne said, hoping a ruse would allay Burke’s suspicions. “Maybe it was at one of President Frump’s fundraisers.”

  “Well, wherever it was I’m sure I met you before,” Burke said. “But let’s get going. There’s a lot to show you. Follow me, we’ll take my car.”

  They pushed open the glass front doors and walked across the courtyard to the street. A black anti-grav limousine hovered by the sidewalk. A black-suited driver stood by the limousine awaiting the passengers. The driver opened the back door and held it for them. Burke embarked first. The driver opened the second back door. Nicole got into the limo and Peter followed. They sat down on a comfortable leather seat opposite Burke in a spacious cabin in the rear of the limo.

  “Would you like a drink?” Tom asked, gesturing to the fully equipped wet bar.

  “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Peter said, forcing a grin on his pale face.

  “Malcom, they have your favorite. Captain Morgan’s,” Nicole said, smiling as she pointed to a bottle on the bar.

  “Oh, that’s great,” Peter said. “Would you like anything, Nicole?”

  “No thanks.”

  “And you, Tom? Would you like anything?” Rayne asked.

  “No thanks, Malcom.” Burke said, leaning forward until his elbows were resting on his knees.

  Burke had his hands pressed against each other in front of his face in a simulation of prayer. He was studying Peter’s face intently. Peter ignored him and poured himself a drink. He saw a bottle of Coke on the end of the bar, but he declined to pour it. He preferred to drink his rum straight at the moment. Pausing, Rayne smiled at the other limo guests.

  “To the Underworld,” Peter said, feigning a light tone as he lifted his glass in a toast.

  The other passengers smiled back as he took a sip of his drink. He wanted to swallow the entire thing in one draught, but he thought restraint was a better option at this time. Burke continued to scrutinize him as if he was studying an enigma.

  “Forgive me for staring, Malcom,” Burke spoke through his folded hands. “It’s just that you look so familiar. I’m still trying to put together where I met you before.”

  “Maybe it was at one of Frump’s boring meetings,” Nicole offered, laughing.

  “Yeah, it could have been,” Tom agreed.

  It was as if Brenton’s comment had broken a spell because Burke then turned his attention to her and smiled charmingly.

  “Nicole, are you enjoying your stay in the city?”

  “Most definitely,” Nicole said, winking at Peter.

  “Am I missing something?” Burke asked.

  “No, it’s just an inside joke,” Nicole said, smiling.

  “Tell, me, Tom, how’s your wife?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

  “She’s doing great. She’s down at our place in West Palm Beach. I don’t know how she can stand the heat this time of year, but she’s crazy about the place year round.”

  “I’m sure she’s relaxing in an air-conditioned bar,” Nicole said, laughing.

  “You’re probably right.”

  Rayne was so worried that Burke would recognize him that he didn’t notice the limousine speeding down the street. Glancing out the window to his left, Peter saw the buildings race by his vision in a blur. Burke and Brenton began talking about the West Palm Beach Yacht Club and Rayne found he had an instant’s reprieve. He used the free, unobserved moment to gulp down the rest of the rum and pour in some Coke as a chaser. He had never been a big drinker, so the straight rum was burning his throat.

  Scooping up some ice from the wet bar’s ice bucket, Rayne poured himself a full glass of Coke. He drank it quickly and enjoyed the feel of the cold liquid drowning out the heat in his throat.

  “Malcom, have you ever been to the Yacht Club in Palm Beach?” Nicole asked.

  “No, I’ve never been there,” Peter answered, truthfully. “I hear it’s great, though,” he added, lying.

  Rayne was beginning to feel more relaxed. His head felt lighter, at least. When his throat had cooled off, he poured a shot of rum into his Coke and sipped it. Rayne pretended he was listening to a story Brenton and Burke were talking about involving the “old days” when they worked together at Cryotech. Rayne just hoped his luck would hold out a little longer.

  If Tom Burke recognizes me an hour from now, after I’ve raided the computer down in the bunker, that would be bad. But if he recognizes me now, that would be much, much worse.

  Chapter 32

  The Underworld

  By the time he finished his second rum and Coke, Rayne felt relaxed enough to join the conversation. Burke and Brenton were telling amusing stories from their college days, so Rayne had no problem adding a few of his own.

&nb
sp; Burke seems to have at least temporarily put aside his obsession to find out where he remembers me. If my luck can hold out a little longer, everything might be all right.

  The limousine parked in front of a nondescript building. The driver exited the front and walked around to the back to open the door for them. Tom Burke led the way across the sidewalk toward the building. The sign above the glass doors seemed innocuous enough; BUREAU OF STATISTICS. They entered the building and walked through a large body scanner; it was similar to the one Rayne had walked through when he arrived at Virtual-world.

  Something in Burke’s possession set off the scanner because a pair of guards met him as he left the machine. They recognized him right away and nodded at him. Burke nodded back and continued to walk briskly across the lobby floor.

  The unlikely group crossed the spartanly furnished front lobby and approached a pair of elevators. Burke veered toward the elevator on the left and Rayne and Brenton followed. The Security Director swiped his wrist across a scanner and punched a numeric code into a panel. The doors opened and they stepped in.

  When the doors closed, Burke punched another numeric code into a second panel below the main panel listing the floors. When he finished punching in the seemingly long and complex code, he pressed the button on the bottom of the main panel, reading “B,” which Rayne assumed meant basement. The elevator dropped rapidly. He could only assume they were dropping toward the Underworld.

  The elevator continued its rapid descent for an agonizing three minutes. Rayne thought they must have traveled fifty floors underground by the time the doors finally opened to a bright steel corridor.

  “Welcome to the Underworld,” Burke said with a dramatic flair, smiling as he led them out of the elevator.

  The Security Director walked ahead of them down the brightly lit, steel-walled hallway. Rayne and Brenton followed him, walking side-by-side. Nicole flashed Peter a nervous smile. He feigned a reassuring one back. She reached over and held his hand while they walked.

  As they approached a security checkpoint, the guards recognized Tom Burke and waved them through.