I guess he’s right in a way, but then again, it could be argued that he’s wrong, too. I put a cherry tomato in my mouth and chewed. Curtis bit another chunk of his burger.
“So is there a special someone back home?” I said.
He laughed. “Not for a long time. The things I do don’t really allow for that.”
“Really? No one?”
He nodded.
“Someone you like? Come on. There has to be a special lady.” I leaned forward. “Imagine you weren’t fighting this war. Who would you like to end up with?”
He laughed with embarrassment. “It’s funny, but I’ve been in love with this one person for a long time. I even have a number of pictures of her up on my wall.”
I smiled. “Oh, yeah? Who?”
His expression turned serious. “You.”
I retracted. My eyes widened and the smile disappeared. “Oh.”
He faced the floor. “It’s weird, but the stories of you had been going around for a while, but I didn’t pay much attention until I saw a picture of you.” He stared at my face for a moment, as if studying each feature. “When I first saw it, I thought you were so beautiful. Perfect, in fact. My dream woman.”
I swallowed and looked around the restaurant, unable to look him in the eye. I’d had no idea he felt that way. I couldn’t deny that he was a handsome man, but he was also a Shrinik. Then again, Curtis was one of the good guys, but I just couldn’t see myself falling for anyone else so soon after Kevin’s death. Even the whole sexual tension with Michael and Doug confused me. Would I be a bad person for imagining being with someone else? Could it be someone like Michael? Even though it was possible that he was the mastermind of the whole thing. Then I remembered that Doug could have been listening to every word. God, I hope he isn’t. This is so awkward.
Curtis leaned back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
I smiled. “You didn’t. I’m glad you told me.”
We returned to the SUV half an hour later without saying much to each other. I felt some tension in the air, but his calm demeanor never made me feel uncomfortable. We didn’t hear from Doug until 5 p.m.
“They’re leaving,” he said. “They’re walking out of the building as we speak.”
Curtis interlocked his fingers. “See where they’re going.”
Nothing came back for a minute. Then Doug spoke. “They’re gone. A black limo took them away. The building’s clearing out, too.”
“Okay,” Curtis said. “Meet us outside your building.” He started the engine and put the car in “drive.” We parked outside the U.S Bank Tower and waited.
Doug came out in the midst of at least thirty workers and jumped into the back. We drove down West Fifth Street and took a left onto Broadway before parking at the corner of West Sixth Street. Glixima Tower was only twenty yards away.
Chapter Forty-Three
It felt strange watching Curtis change in the car. His black suit matched Doug’s right down to the size. They were much cheaper than the ones they’d worn to leave Carrie’s apartment building but still lent them a strong presence. Curtis checked the magazines of the M4 and AN-94 assault rifles and threw them into the bag. He handed a Glock to me and I put it inside my purse, hoping I wouldn’t need anything more powerful.
We conducted a quick test of our earpieces. It all seemed so final, as if these were the last few moments we’d ever spend together. It was ten past six, and the number of people leaving the building had lessened.
Curtis strapped the weapons bag onto his shoulder and checked the clip of his Glock. Then he put it inside his suit’s left inner pocket and put his sunglasses on. Doug did the same and opened the door. Curtis smiled at me and joined him outside. They stood motionless, facing oncoming pedestrians, looking every inch the bodyguards they were pretending to be. I put my own glasses on before stepping out and running my fingers through my hair. Curtis held my hand and helped me to the pavement. A number of people walking past looked at me and whispered to each other. I nodded at Doug and Curtis, and we approached the building.
“Do I really look like her?” I said.
“You most certainly do,” Curtis said.
I stopped cold after walking through the revolving doors. I studied the hall in front of us. It was probably twice the size of the U.S Bank Tower, and better-decorated, too, with aluminium walls everywhere. Two security guards stood to my left, another two in front of us. But I also saw a number of men in gray suits who didn’t look like regular office workers and were probably Shriniks or muscle for hire.
I walked toward reception, drawing glances from everyone. The guards stopped speaking when they saw me and stared, as did the men in suits, who probably wielded guns in the breasts of their jackets. It wasn’t a look of suspicion, though, but one of intrigue.
A man and a woman were seated at the reception desk. The woman wore an impatient look, so I walked toward the man. He gave me a huge smile but rescinded it when Doug and Curtis appeared beside me.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked
I leaned forward and smiled. “I’m here to see Barry Clark.”
“And you are?”
I swallowed. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Bethany Carpenter.” Asking for a meeting with the company’s CFO and claiming to be his goddaughter was very risky. But from the way Michael spoke about Barry, he always worked late, and we just had to take the chance that the real Bethany wouldn’t turn up. According to her Twitter account, though, she hadn’t been to L.A. since she divorced Michael just over three years ago. That gave us confidence that our plan would work.
The receptionist’s eyes lighted up. “Oh, Ms. Carpenter. Welcome back. I’m so sorry about Michael.”
I nodded.
“Please go on up. Mr. Clark will be so glad to see you.”
I smiled at him. He must have met Bethany a number of times, judging by his reaction. I must really look like her then. I guess I just don’t see it. “Thank you,” I said.
He smiled and I walked toward the elevators. Then I took my glasses off. All the guards and the men in suits were looking at us. Some were on their phones, too.
“They know,” I said.
“Just act calm,” Curtis said. We kept walking. The elevators were about five yards away.
Two of the guards started walking toward us. I grew more and more worried. “They’re coming.”
Neither Doug nor Curtis spoke. We stopped and Doug pushed the elevator button. The elevator in the closest shaft was on the thirtieth floor. I turned back toward the reception area. The guards were now only a few steps away. I gritted my teeth and looked away.
“Ms. Carpenter,” I heard one of them say.
I swallowed, turned around and tried to steady my voice. “Yes?”
The guard took his hat off. “It’s David, ma’am. David Phelan. Remember, I used to drive for your father.”
Doug nudged my shoulder. I smiled. “Oh, yes. How are you?”
“Really well.” He paused to clear his throat. “I’m really sorry about Mr. Galloway.”
I coughed and nodded. “Thank you.”
He put his hat back on. “Please say hello to your dad for me.”
“I will.”
He nodded and walked off, but two of the men in suits stopped him for a quick conversation. The closest elevator was now on the tenth floor, and the men were still staring at us. The next thirty seconds felt like ten years, but then I heard the chime and the elevator door opened. I rushed in without looking back. Doug and Curtis followed and took their glasses off. I hit the button for the sixtieth floor. Barry Clark worked there, from what Michael had told me, and if the guards were suspicious, they’d be even more so if we went to another floor.
We didn’t say a word to each other in the elevator. It was much larger than most I’d seen, with the ceiling maybe eleven feet high. The flashing red light at the top of the wall served as a constant reminder that our every move was on camera. We had go
ne past the tenth floor and kept going up. I didn’t take my eyes away from the changing red numbers of the floor display: 15, 20, 25. When it hit 30, the elevator stopped. I swallowed and looked at Curtis and then Doug. They faced ahead and didn’t return my gaze.
The doors started opening. I took quick breaths through my nose, hoping the barrel of a gun wouldn’t appear. Two men and a woman smiled at us when the door opened. I returned one of my own. They got into the elevator and I edged left with Doug and Curtis. They all appeared to be in their late twenties. One of the men was balding on top, while the other had short blond hair. The woman wore a navy suit and had long dark hair that didn’t look like hers.
I could feel her staring at me, but she didn’t say anything. I kept my eyes on the changing numbers above. We had now gone past the fortieth floor.
“I know you, don’t I?” she finally said.
I stared at her in silence for a moment. “Maybe.”
She shook her head. “No, I definitely do. You were all over the news recently. Weren’t you married to Michael Galloway?”
The men stopped talking and stared at me.
“You’re Bethany Carpenter, right?” the woman said.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“No way,” she screamed. Then she clamped her mouth shut. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … You must be really broken up about his death.”
I didn’t say anything. Doug nudged me in the back.
“I am,” I said. “It’s been awful.”
The elevator stopped moving. I glanced up. We had reached the fiftieth floor. The anxiety returned.
“It was nice meeting you,” the woman said. She walked out with both men, who nodded at me.
I sighed and leaned against the back of the elevator. We started moving again but stopped on the fifty-second floor. Worry now filled my mind. The door opened, and this time three security guards and two men in suits greeted us. Curtis and Doug stepped forward.
“Is there a problem?” Curtis said.
The men stood still, staring. Then one of the two in suits put his right foot inside. “Could you please come with us, Ms. Carpenter?”
I looked at Doug. He edged closer to the man. “What’s this about?”
“Mr. Clark wants her to wait for him in one of the conference rooms down here. He’ll be coming down soon.”
Doug looked back at me. Curtis nodded, silently asking me to say something.
“Why can’t I go to his office?” I asked.
“He would prefer to meet you here. That’s all I know.” The lift started closing, but the man’s leg stopped it. “Are you coming?”
I tapped Doug and Curtis on their shoulders and stepped out. The guards and the men stood aside.
“After you, ma’am,” one of the guards said.
Doug walked ahead and I followed, with Curtis by my side. The five other men stayed behind us. Did they know? Were we walking into a trap? We walked into a large office space with rows of desks stretching back about a hundred yards. We walked down an aisle on the left side of the hall. I peered into the distance and saw that the path curved left, probably to another set of desks.
Most of the seats we walked past were empty, but I did see some heads poking out from behind computer screens to take a peek. I heard a radio behind us crackle. I looked back and saw one of the suited men take a step back before answering it. I met the gaze of his partner. He smiled at me as he walked. I leaned toward Curtis’ ear. “They know.”
“I know,” he said. “Be ready. We’ll have to make our move soon.”
I looked back again. The man on the radio waved at the others.
“Wait, please,” the other suited man said.
I stopped and turned around. I saw Doug’s hand edging toward the gun in his inside jacket pocket. The man who had spoken on the radio walked back toward us and looked at his colleague. Then he nodded and blinked, as if giving him a signal. Curtis swung his forearm across the windpipe of one of the guards, sending him to the ground, gasping for air.
The other guard reached for his gun, but Doug shot him in the head with his Glock. The two suited men reached for their guns, but Curtis leaped on one and tackled him to the ground. Doug grabbed me by the waist and hauled me down. We fell on top of an aisle desk, smashing a flat-screen monitor. A bullet whizzed over my head and struck a window at the end of the row of desks we’d stopped at, cracking it. Screams rang out in every direction, but no one ran.
I grabbed the Glock from my purse, but Doug pushed me under the desk behind us and rolled in the opposite direction. Another bullet came but struck the ground, missing Doug by inches. The two remaining guards charged forward, guns in their arms. Doug spun around and fired three times, dropping one of the guards to the floor. The second guard fired back twice before I caught him in the chest with a clean shot. He fell on top of the first downed guard, his dead eyes still open.
Doug rolled under the desk opposite mine when the man in the suit reappeared, firing his gun nonstop. Doug continued rolling until he was out of sight. The man jumped over the desk and then another in pursuit. I fired after him but missed. I started crawling out from under the desk with my finger on the trigger of the Glock and saw Curtis’ perspiring face. On the floor beside me, he put his finger to his lips and I nodded. He turned and leaped over the opposite desk and chased the man after Doug.
I heard gunshots fly in his direction, which smashed screens all around me. I couldn’t stay there just because Curtis told me to. I rolled from under the desk and looked to my sides. The three guards were dead on the floor, as was the suited man Curtis had tackled, with a gunshot wound to the chest. Another shot went off and more screams came from all over the hall. I squatted and edged past the next row of desks and two more after that. Three more gunshots came before everything went silent. I waited, listening for anything. Then I started a countdown from five in my head. I didn’t know what else to do when I reached zero except to stand up and shoot. I’d reached two when I heard running feet. I aimed the gun high but waited. They drew closer and closer. I stood up.
“Rachel.” Curtis said. He stood a few feet from me with his hands in the air.
I kept the gun trained on him and took deep breaths. I’d been so close to shooting him. I lowered the gun and sighed. Then Doug joined us. I could only assume the man who had been chasing Doug also lay dead somewhere.
A slim brunette woman halfway down the row of desks rose from the floor moments later. Her face, hands and legs all trembled. A man of no more than twenty sitting a few yards from us stuck his shaking head up, too.
“Everybody, out,” Curtis shouted.
More heads appeared, but everyone just looked at us without moving.
Curtis waved his gun in the air. “Now!”
Everyone still on the floor bolted out of the room. Some ran toward us, while others took the path that curved left at the end of the hall. A radio crackled and we all looked at the floor. The radio lay beside the dead suited man.
“Stefan,” a voice said. “Stefan. Albert.”
We stood still as the last three people ran past us. The voice from the radio kept calling the same names, but then it went silent. Curtis pulled the M4 from the weapons bag and threw two AN-94s to Doug and me. “We can’t stay here,” he said.
Doug turned around. I started to do the same but froze. I saw a tall man turning the corner at the end of the hall. I recognized the long hair and the Mackintosh jacket. It was Lorenzo, wearing the exact same clothes he’d had on when he killed my husband.
“Guys,” I said.
Doug stopped moving and looked at me. He followed my gaze and just stared. Curtis saw Lorenzo a moment later and stepped in front of me. We backed toward the elevator, never taking our eyes off Lorenzo. The radio crackled a few more times, but we ignored it. Lorenzo screamed and ran forward. Curtis raised his Glock and fired, but Lorenzo spun right and dodged the bullet as if it were traveling at two miles an hour. It struck a window, sending glass everywhere.
Lorenzo looked at us and laughed.
“Go,” Curtis shouted.
We hurried toward the elevator. The familiar white glow surrounded Lorenzo’s head, and the slithery organisms emerged from his skin. He ran forward again. This time Curtis fired automatic rounds at him from the M4. The bullets struck Lorenzo’s body but bounced off, though a number of the organisms fell to their deaths.
Lorenzo was still coming as we reached the elevator. The closest one was on the fourteenth floor, and we didn’t know what or who would come up with it. Lorenzo was now less than twenty yards away, his lizard snout frowning at us. But he had slowed his pace, almost toying with us now. The elevator had reached the thirty-fifth floor.
“It won’t get here in time,” I said.
Curtis looked above the elevator doors at the flashing red numbers. “We’ll take the stairs then.”
We all backed toward the door leading to the stairwell. Lorenzo charged at us, and we opened fire, pushing him back farther and farther until he dropped to his knees. Doug stopped firing and held the door open. “Come on.”
We’d sprinted up two floors when we heard a loud growl. We reloaded our guns. The growl came again and we continued running. We’d reached the fifty-sixth floor when the ground started shaking as if the building were imploding. Then the wall to our right crumbled and debris flew everywhere. We ducked and shielded ourselves. Lorenzo shot through the hole in the wall and landed a few yards from us, covered in dust. Dried green blood still covered his body. Curtis crawled to his gun and fired at him, but he kept coming. We all rose to our feet and backed up the stairs. Curtis unstrapped the weapons bag with the C4 and handed it to Doug. “No matter what happens, make sure you blow the core up.”
Doug took it and nodded. I glanced back at Lorenzo. His fists were clenched, as if ready to pounce. Then Curtis stopped stepping back with us. He growled at Lorenzo and dropped his gun. White light surrounded his head. His body grew, and scales protruded from it. Lorenzo charged forward and leaped into the air. Curtis jumped, too, and they collided a few feet from us, opening another gaping hole. They rolled on the floor, some of their organisms becoming detached from their bodies. Doug and I turned and continued sprinting up the stairs. The organisms that had left Lorenzo’s body charged toward us. Doug and I turned and opened fire, but more and more kept coming. One climbed up my leg. I screamed and thrashed until it fell off. The crashes and bangs from the Shrinik duel grew louder and louder, but we just kept going. After we cleared the sixty-eighth floor, we heard the sound of running feet descending toward us, along with shouts to clear the way. It had to be guards or, worse, more Shriniks. We burst through the doors and sprinted to the western stairwell.
The Children Who Time Lost Page 42
