Right Girl

by Ellie O'Neill

  ‘I could go to prison for this.’ I heard that sound again, the sound of the siren, the boots.

  ‘They will never suspect you. It’s perfect.’ He was smiling. Well, at least he was happy.

  I nodded. I understood.

  We drove in silence. I was overwhelmed by everything I had seen and heard. We headed back into the city, the lights buzzing, my head spinning. The speaker pulled into a quiet street and pointed in the direction of a tram stop.

  ‘You need to trust us, Freya. We’re on your side. We’ll get your life back. We’re going to stop BBest.’

  I nodded. This had to end. They had to be stopped.

  ‘You’d better go, we’ve been gone too long. We’ll be in touch.’

  I climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind me, stunned. I walked towards the tram stop, to all intents and purposes looking like a normal person, but there was nothing normal anymore. Everything had changed.

  I was being asked to engage in corporate espionage, something I had no idea about, something I could never have imagined getting involved in. It was illegal. Yet if I didn’t do something, I would literally suffocate in my own life.

  I was going to take it back. I was taking back my life.

  36

  The speaker was right about one thing: I had known in my gut for a while that there was something inherently wrong with BBest. That there was something not right with this life that we were all leading. But if I was being completely honest, I wished I didn’t have to get involved. I wished I wasn’t being asked to do something illegal. I would be pretty happy to sign petitions and stay on the sidelines, shaking my fist and tutting. But it looked as though my life wasn’t going to turn out that way. It looked very much like I had to get involved. There was a giant inflatable finger pointing at me, and while I would like to outrun it, I just couldn’t. However reluctantly, I had to say yes.

  By Tuesday I was a nervous wreck. I woke with the sound of my heart pumping in my ears. I took some deep breaths and tried to maintain a calmness; if I didn’t, I knew my Waist Watch would highlight a problem. There was a slight tremor in my hands, which I knew was adrenaline. It was only 6.15 and the stuff was already coursing through my veins. This was going to be a long day.

  I proceeded like it was just another day, but even my breathing seemed to shout at me, Today is the day you break the law, today is the day. Yet I went about my business with a rigidity and robot-like conformity, because this had to be a day like any other. As recommended, I had muesli for breakfast and I drove my van to the shop. I had a delivery at seven am, a large consignment of chrysanthemums and violets were due in. BBest had ordered eight display units for the fourth floor, double the normal amount. It seemed that they wanted their offices to look extra special for the big meeting today. I didn’t know what the meeting was about, but I knew where my flowers were to be displayed and would build the arrangements according to their position in the rooms. I already knew where I would place the black postage stamp. I corrected myself – surveillance device. I would stick it on the neck of a lily and camouflage it with long, elegant leaves. It would be hiding in plain sight in the middle of the boardroom table. I knew that I was about to commit a serious crime, and that if I was caught, the consequences would be immense. But I was still going to do it. Part of me was definitely doing it as two fingers to BBest, to tell them they didn’t know me at all, to shout at them, to scream, Ha! I bet you never thought I’d spy on you. Me. Your perfect little puppet. Well, just watch me.

  I knitted and threaded my flowers together. I flared leaves outwards to provide jungle-style backgrounds. The displays were magnificent, bursting with life and vitality.

  My van was at capacity once I’d loaded them inside. The Bondi display was nestled in the centre, the others merely a prop for the main event. I smiled as I drove through the BBest gates, aware of the many cameras fixed on me. I knew now that this place, which until recently had felt so welcoming, had deceived me so badly.

  I widened my grin and drove carefully. I must not do anything out of the norm, nothing could draw attention to me today. As I got closer to the Beta building, I noticed something different. There were armed guards dotted around, many more than usual. I caught my breath. The sight of them brought back that noise, the feeling of fear in the pit of my belly. I clenched the steering wheel. I was terrified. Their androgynous black padded suits and visors surrounded the outer building. Their booted feet were planted hip distance apart, and each guard held a large machine gun across their chest, their gloved hands firmly clasping the handles, their fingers hovering over the triggers. Their heads moved rhythmically, turning from one side to the next. I couldn’t see their eyes but I felt like they were looking at me, watching as my van skirted merrily along the BBest roadway. They were reading the jaunty logo on the side of the van, taking it all in. Someone somewhere was double-checking my credentials, triple-checking that I was where I was supposed to be; someone else was running through surveillance footage to make sure I was alone, and that I was doing what I always did. Something big was going down today, and I wondered what the Luddites had really asked of me.

  I saw dark shadows peppered around corners, menacing shapes skulking at the edges of rooftops, and everywhere I saw the outline of guns. I swung into my usual parking space, aware that I was not breathing. I was frozen in fear. I forced myself to inhale and heard my lungs squeal as the oxygen entered them, my head jerking back. I pulled the key from the ignition and exhaled. I had moments now, moments to reconsider, or moments to progress. It was my choice. As that thought flitted across my mind, I felt emboldened. My choice. I opened the door and walked to the back of my van. As always, I took out my trolley first and clipped the pieces together, slotting the wheels into place, arranging the trays. And one display after the other, I loaded up my flowers.

  With a clink, a clank and a rustle, I pushed towards the Beta building. A guy on a skateboard whizzed past me, a girl in a bright orange T-shirt was so engrossed in a text she almost collided with my wheels. I wanted to stop and grab her by the shoulders and scream into her face, Do you know about Project Ananke? Do you know who I am? Have you been following me? Do you know my preferences? Have you chosen my life for me? But I didn’t because today I was making my choice. Not BBest’s choice, mine. With every step, I tried very hard not to watch the lily with the postage stamp attached to its neck, but I couldn’t help myself, it was definitely lilting slightly, it had a tiny bend to the left. I reminded myself that I was a florist, and no one without training would notice this. The flowers were perfection. There was nothing to worry about, and yet I found my own neck falling to the left, mirroring the lily’s shape. Three steps and I would be at the front door, the door that I normally sailed through, but today I could see it was closed and two guards stood shoulder to shoulder, barricading my entrance.

  One, two, three.

  ‘Hello.’ I smiled at the guard’s lips, injecting as much cheery delight into my voice as I could. ‘I have a delivery to make to the fourth floor.’

  He tapped the side of his helmet. ‘There’s a florist here.’

  There was a pause, and I could only assume someone was talking back to him in his helmet. I watched him intently, my hands firmly grasping the handle of my trolley, disguising the fact that I was shaking. I forced myself to raise my chin and pretended to casually survey the front of the building.

  He turned to his guard buddy. ‘She checks out.’

  They stepped apart and the door slid open.

  ‘You have to run through security on the third before you get to the fourth.’

  I nodded at him as if I knew what was going on. I wondered what security on third was. I wheeled inside and saw the regular security guard at the desk, who nine times out of ten waved me through, was flanked by two large guards. He produced a hand scanner for me to rest my now sweaty palm on. He looked apologetic.

  ‘It’s just today, there’s . . .’ he sounded nervous, ‘. . . an important m
eeting.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I agreed a little too energetically, both of us hyper aware of the two menacing shadows at his elbows.

  The scan confirmed who I was, so he nodded and I made my way to the lift.

  ‘Third floor,’ he shouted after me. ‘Another security check.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said and pushed the button with great vigour and determination. The doors closed and I did my utmost to remain calm looking. But I was rigid with nerves about what awaited me on the third floor. I bent over my flowers, pretending to fix them, but I was nose to nose with the lily, wondering if I should chop its head off.

  Ding. The doors slid open. The third floor was buzzing. BBesters were hopping around in a frenzy, swiping tablets, shouting, moving at a fevered pace. I stepped into the lobby and was accosted by a fiery redhead who pressed her hand into the small of my back.

  ‘This way, you’ll need to go through security.’ She guided me with great force for someone so skinny.

  A line had formed akin to airport security with guards ushering people through. My eyes quickly scanned the situation, desperately trying to ascertain what they were looking for. I saw a walk through X-ray gate, which would be scanning for concealed weapons, my handbag would be searched, and it appeared that I would also be patted down. I would have to hand my phone over too. I looked at my lily. The redhead pushed me to join a queue and I dutifully shuffled forward. There were three people ahead of me. I was the only one pushing a trolley of flowers. And then I saw the guards at the top of the line, they were pulling people out and scanning items and bodies with large sword-like batons with blinking red lights. They were looking for hidden electronics, I was sure of it.

  I felt like every part of me was screaming, Guilty! It’s her. Arrest her. My face was red, I was sweating, and my eyes must have looked suspicious. Yet, I shuffled on, even though my heart had fallen out of my body and exploded on the floor. This was it. This was how it started and ended. As casually as I could, I surveyed the room, possible exit points, and in milliseconds I ran through possible life-altering decisions. I could turn and run. I could refuse to let the flowers be scanned because they might wilt due to radiation. I could swallow the lily head, although that would still probably be picked up by a scanner or the X-ray machine. I had to do something, and fast. There were only two people in front of me.

  I bent down to my flowers and started to fuss over them, pulling out a leaf and putting it back in. I guided my hand to the rear of the lily’s head and with my nails ripped off the bugging device. It nestled into the centre of my palm and the weight of this secret burned into my skin. There was one man ahead of me.

  Now I was carrying the device, now I had no excuse. What was I doing? I looked around the room once more, I felt a wildness, an animalistic sense of doom wash over me. My ears pricked up. I heard a familiar voice.

  ‘Mason!’ I shouted.

  He looked up from his tablet and instinctively grinned and started to saunter towards me. With each step, I saw my opportunity. I had to steel my nerves. I channelled every femme fatale in every spy movie I’d ever seen – I felt my lips pout and my cheekbones rise as my eyelashes fluttered.

  ‘Freya, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.’

  And I have been trying to ignore you and your suggestion of an open marriage.

  He leaned his body across the rope railing, so his chest was inches from me. It was now or never, I thought, as I threw my arms around his shoulders in an embrace and firmly slapped the surveillance stamp onto the neck of his T-shirt.

  ‘Hey, hey.’ A guard pushed his baton between us, the cold hard plastic pressing against my chest. ‘She has to get through security, no fraternising.’

  ‘Please,’ I said, trying to sound like a Sweet Valley High prom queen, ‘I’m just saying hello to my fiancé.’

  ‘No touching until you’re through.’

  I widened my eyes expressively at Mason, who looked more than a little confused, and I moved to the top of the queue. I passed through the X-ray machine, was patted down, my bag was searched, and my flowers were scanned. My hand print was taken on a tablet once again, and then I was through. I had passed with flying colours. Mason was waiting for me, his eyes creased in confusion.

  ‘You’re happy to see me?’

  I smiled at him flirtatiously for the benefit of the guard, of the camera, of BBest. ‘Of course, you’re my ninety-three per cent,’ I purred.

  I reached behind his neck and drew him close to me for a kiss, a long, lingering, inappropriate-for-work-time kiss, and as our lips touched, I slid the stamp off the collar of his T-shirt and back into my palm.

  ‘I know, I just thought, maybe we should have a chat.’ He looked surprised by the intensity of the kiss, and rightly so.

  ‘I’ve got to deliver these to the fourth floor and then–’

  He interrupted me. ‘Today is pretty full on for me too, RealTime is in for a meeting, that’s what all this is about.’

  ‘Sounds fascinating. I’d better go, I’d love to be a fly on the wall at that meeting.’ I blew him a kiss and sashayed towards the lift, just another BBester leading a BBest life.

  37

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t be late,’ Anna said happily. ‘Even with all that rigmarole downstairs, I still knew you’d be here in plenty of time.’

  She looked at me like a clucky mother hen and I felt like an idiot for not seeing it before. The way she’d randomly reached out to hire me; how she knew Cat was my friend; her boundless enthusiasm for my flowers; her helpful suggestions for Granddad. I knew without a doubt that she was part of the Ananke project too. She had studied me. She thought she had me figured out, that she knew every bit of me, that I was predictable and forever obedient. But she didn’t know me, I thought, and I was strangely proud of myself as I balled my hand into a fist, hiding the camera. She didn’t know me at all.

  ‘No problems, Anna.’ I swung my trolley through the lobby of the fourth floor. It was a lot calmer here. There were no guards. In fact, there was no one here. It was empty. Other than Anna flapping around, the floor was deserted. I pretended not to notice that there was anything unusual going on. I hit my first destination, the hallway, and positioned my first display. I fussed and preened at the flowers, hoping that Anna would disappear so I could reposition the stamp on the lily without her seeing. Second, third, fourth display; I whizzed around the floor and finally Anna retreated into her office. I made sure my back was to the only visible camera in the room, but I was aware there could be more, they could be anywhere, as I crouched over the trolley and bugged the lily. I arranged some leaves to hide it as before. It was invisible, but the lens was perfectly positioned. On to the fifth and sixth displays, kitchen and men’s toilets. Seventh, ladies’ toilet, and finally I moved to the Bondi meeting room. The large oak table was prepared for a meeting, there were glasses of water placed at every seat, writing pads, tablets. At the back of the room was a tray of food – sushi and salads. There was a light scent of lemon that was refreshing and relaxing. I picked up my final display and placed it in the centre of the table, the lily pointing towards the top of the table. I splayed the leaves outwards and delicately fixed everything into position. Dangerously beautiful. I took a moment, relishing my rebellion, and slowly made my way to the lift. There I found Anna and Cat at the doors, acting like their coffee had been laced with Mexican jumping beans.

  ‘They’re early, they’re early!’ Anna shouted.

  ‘What are you doing here, Freya?’ Cat’s face had turned purple, her eyes popping excitedly.

  ‘My job.’ I looked at my trolley and back to Cat.

  ‘They’re early, they’re early!’ Anna was like a dog chasing its tail.

  ‘I’ll just make myself scarce,’ I said in my smallest possible voice. I didn’t even know if they heard me because, just as I backed away and attempted to blend into the wallpaper, the lift doors opened with a hiss and an electric vibration, a buzz of expectancy akin to bees in a hive, f
illed the air. Maybe twenty people fell out, but all eyes were on one. The Queen Bee himself. RealTime. He was dressed all in black and wore a black pork-pie hat. He was smaller than I thought he would be in the flesh. He flashed a dazzling smile as he confidently burst through the doors. There was an aura, a star-like quality to him, and it was difficult for me to peel my eyes away. He was mesmerising. He was luminous.

  ‘Anna.’ He shook her hand and warmly ran his left hand up her arm. It was impossible to know whether he was greeting an old friend or a business colleague for the first time.

  Anna’s face had crumbled like a smashed pavlova, she was in smithereens. She barely managed to pull herself together, and her voice quivered as she said, ‘Delighted to have you here, we’re so excited about this project, it’s an honour to be working with you.’

  ‘The pleasure is all mine,’ he said, and grinned right at her, like she was the only person in the world and they had all day to stop and chat.

  Anna turned to her left. I saw that her face had gone pale and her hand was shaking as she gestured. ‘This is Cat, who has just moved onto the fourth floor.’

  Cat stepped forward enthusiastically. She shook RealTime’s hand.

  And then he was walking towards me and I felt dizzy and hot and like I might pass out. And I saw the nods of approval from his entourage, agreeing on how he was a man of the people, he never forgot the little people. That was me, the little people. Just a measly florist, clearly busy at work in my apron, pushing a trolley; a nobody, really. He thrust his hand forward, and I stared at it like it was a foreign object: his perfectly manicured nails, his ebony skin.

  ‘You must be responsible for these beautiful flowers.’

  I felt my hand reaching out. I looked into his eyes and I was disarmed by the cold blackness of his irises. He smiled, emanating warmth and good humour, but his eyes, the windows to his soul, betrayed him. His hand was smooth and warm in mine.