Crouched at the entrance to the facility with his gun aimed down the barrel of the deep red passage, Gilt smiles to himself. But as soon as he has stopped smiling, he feels the butt of a gun pressed against the back of his head. Rising to a standing position, he raises his arms in the air, slowly turning around. It’s Syl___. The car is parked behind her. She takes his gun and puts it back inside his jacket. Putting her gun away, she looks at him intensely, as if about to issue a reprimand, before noticing his badly wounded arm. She immediately rips off some of her own clothing to wrap around it as blood drips steadily out of it. He falters a little as his adrenalin ebbs away. She puts her arm around him.
‘Come on. Let me take you away from all this.’
Gilt looks at her.
‘You’ve had enough it. I know. I heard about..’
His eyes begin to form tears.
‘I know. I know. You didn’t really sign up this again. Forget about the mission. It’s over.’
She helps him into the car, gets into the driver's seat, starts the engine, and pulls away.
Chapter 5: Deathtrap
Plaza Hotel
Royal Suite
8.03
Gilt is woken by a brief hissing sound. He opens his eyes. He stares blankly at the ceiling.
8.15
Standing in front of a gas stove, Gilt cooks breakfast. The doorbell rings. He pauses. Then leaves. He returns holding a dinner jacket, dry cleaned, on a hanger.
9.29
Sitting on a stool at a ghostly transparent blue breakfast bar, he finishes the last page of a copy of the New York Times, placing it down next to an empty plate, next to an empty glass. His head turns slowly towards the bathroom door.
9.59
Putting the dinner jacket on, Gilt casually collects some holographic chips from the worktop next to the stove. They click together in his hand. He pockets them and exits. Closing the hotel room door shut, his fingers trace its surface for evidence of something. Then he abruptly turns and walks down a dimly lit passage. He turns the corner where a greek statue stands. It has a head on its shoulders. But Gilt doesn’t notice. He calls for a lift. The doors open immediately. After pausing for a moment, as if unsure, he gets in.
10.03
The lift doors open. He descends a wide set of glass stairs down to an incandescent white floor. He approaches one of several dark red tables, and removes the chips from his pocket. They make a small stack. Looking up, he nods to a croupier standing before him.
‘Welcome back, Mr..?’
‘You know my name.’
A waitress appears with a drink on a tray. Slowly bringing the glass to his mouth, Gilt takes a sip. He relaxes a little and sighs, his eyes gazing ahead, as if beholding an infinite beyond.
10.29
Standing at another table, Gilt shakes a hand back and forth. Things vibrate brightly within. As he gestures his arm to throw them onto a maze of light suspended before him, his body flinches. Particles of light fall. Attempting to mask the pain, he smiles weakly, trying to regain composure.
10.59
Gilt sits before a confusion of spiralling black, red and green. He moves some of an impressive stack of glowing chips. A woman puts her hand on his shoulder. The wheel continues to spin. As if remembering to perform an action, he moves his hand to cover hers, as his eyes remain locked on the spinning roulette wheel, which after some time, eventually comes to a stop. Gilt loses. Pocketing a few remaining chips from the table, he turns to the woman by his side and stops in slow-motion recognition.
‘Sylvia _____?’
12.43
Gilt and Sylvia sit together on stools circling the central bar, immersed in waves of mist as they emerge from crevices within its monumental green crystal form, which gently pulsates with light. Sylvia touches Gilt’s arm affectionately. A blonde lady in a light grey wool suit drifts towards them with drinks suspended above a black square tray. Gilt visibly winces as he raises an arm to take the glass from her delicate, outstretched hand.
13.30
As Gilt places his drink back down, he knocks over one of the many previous ones. He watches it smash silently on the incandescent floor. Sylvia leans in to kiss him. He remains passive. She stops and sits back, cautiously. Looking at her, Gilt checks his watch and straightens his jacket.
8.03
Gilt is woken by a brief hissing sound. He opens his eyes and stares blankly at the ceiling. He rises.
8.15
Standing in front of a gas stove, Gilt cooks breakfast. The doorbell rings. He pauses. Then as if remembering something, he leaves, then returns, holding a dinner jacket, dry cleaned, on a hanger.
9.29
Sitting on a stool at a ghostly transparent blue breakfast bar, Gilt finishes the last page of a copy of the New York Times.
9.59
Putting the dinner jacket on, he casually collects some holographic chips from the worktop next to the stove. They click together in his hand.
10.29
Gilt stands at the end of a round red table. Things vibrate brightly within his hand as he shakes it back and forth. As he gestures his arm to throw them, his body flinches. Particles of light fall.
10.59
Gilt sits before a confusion of spiralling black, red and green. A woman puts her hand on his shoulder. He turns in slow-motion recognition.
‘Sylvia T____?’
13.30
As Gilt places his drink back down, he knocks over one of the many previous ones. He watches as it smashes silently on the incandescent floor. Sylvia leans in to kiss him. He remains passive. She sits back in her seat again, somewhat cautious.
8.03
Gilt is woken by a brief hissing sound. He rises.
9.59
Gilt casually collects some holographic chips from the worktop next to the stove.
10.59
Sylvia puts her hand on his shoulder.
13.30
She leans in to kiss him. He starts to kiss her back. But then stops. Feeling the ring on his hand, he gets up, taking steps back away from the stool. Gilt continues looking toward Sylvia whilst taking steps backwards, stumbling.
8.03
Gilt is woken by a brief hissing sound.
13.30
Sylvia leans in to kiss him. He kisses her back for a few moments. Then his head starts to droop down. He looks down at the ring on his hand. Placing her forefinger under his chin, Sylvia lifts his head up. His eyes are red.
13.42
Gilt staggers into the hotel bedroom and collapses onto the bed.
8.03
Gilt is woken by a brief hissing sound.
13.30
Sylvia leans in to kiss him. He kisses her back with some passion. After a little while, his head starts to droop down. He looks down at his ring. Sylvia slowly eases the it off his finger. She puts it in his jacket pocket. Emotional, Gilt lifts his head up to stare at her.
8.03
Gilt is woken by a brief hissing sound.
13.30
Sylvia leans in to kiss him. He kisses her back with some passion. After a little while, his head starts to droop down. He looks down at his ring. Sylvia slowly eases the it off his finger. She puts it in his jacket pocket. Emotional, Gilt lifts his head up again. Staring into her eyes, his face is a mixture of pain and liberated.
13.42
Gilt staggers and reaches out for the bed. He falls onto the floor instead. Climbing over him, she starts unbuttoning his shirt. Undressing herself, she throws his shirt aside. They embrace and kiss with gentle intimacy. Gilt looks at her with ardour, staring into her eyes.
‘Madeleine...’
8.03
Gilt is woken by a brief hissing sound.
13.42
Gilt staggers and reaches out for the bed. He falls onto the floor instead. Climbing over him, Sylvia starts unbuttoning his shirt. Undressing herself, she throws his shirt aside. They embrace and kiss with gentle intimacy. Gilt looks at her with ardour, staring into her eyes.
‘Madeleine...’
Sylvia pulls back from him. Then notices that the ring is back on his finger. His eyes are locked on hers. She becomes tearful. Wiping her cheek, Sylvia caresses his forehead a little, then she staggers off the bed. As she does so, the heel of her shoe catches something on the side of the bed, causing a faint sound of glass breaking, which triggers a soft beeping sound. Oblivious, she drunkenly gathers herself, while Gilt lays there, continuing to murmur. The door slams as she exits.
8.23
Gilt is woken by a soft beeping sound. He opens his eyes. His vision is double. Wincing his eyes to try to unite them, he notices that they are different, as if one were a dishevelled version of the other. After mentally snapping them together, he begins searching for the source of the sound, which he traces along the side of the bed, where a small compartment hanging open. He looks closer. Inside the compartment there is a small glass vial, with tiny writing forming the word ‘Nostalgia’. It is cracked, and drips a little. Following their fall, Gilt notices a small pool of moisture on the carpet. He shuts the compartment. The noise stops.
10.26
Gilt turns the corner with the Greek statue and heads toward the lifts. He stops. Looking back, he notices that the head is back on its shoulders. He walks back up to the statue. Standing before it, he turns his head at an angle, looking for any signs of repair. Holding the head in his hands like a vase, he carefully inspects the neckline. As he does so, a green vapour starts to appear from a nearby copper vent. Momentarily frozen, Gilt slowly removes his hands from the statue’s head. He takes a few steps back. Calmly turning around, he walks dutifully towards the lifts. With some mental effort, he forces himself to walk slowly. Hiding his perplexion, he notices there is only one lift. He calls it. It arrives noisily, the doors opening abruptly. Gilt steps inside the tiny space. Its control panel only has one button. With the letter ‘C’ upon it. He presses it. The doors shut violently and the lift descends haphazardly.
10.31
The lift comes to a sudden halt as its doors open. Descending the stairs before him, Gilt notices how vacant the place is. Just a couple of croupiers behind half a dozen tables, along with a bartender and a waitress who look at him circumspectly. Taking a seat at a table, Gilt places some casino chips before him on the table.
‘Welcome back, Mr..?’
‘You…’
‘Sir…?’
Gilt grimaces slightly. The croupier eyes him suspiciously.
‘You know my name.’
Pretending to adjust his shoe, Gilt casts an eye around, and tries to better assess his surroundings
11.59
A waitress appears with a drink suspended above a black square tray. Gilt is visibly relieved at the sight of it. Lifting the glass, he nods to her, appreciative. Returning to the croupier, he places a bet. The wheel spins. Sylvia’s hand appears on his shoulder. Gilt turns to her.
‘T_____?’
She laughs.
‘Yes! Why so formal?’
Her hand gently caresses his arm.
‘Care to have a drink with me?’
‘You read my mind.’
13.00
They finish their third drink. Placing his drink back down, Gilt covertly eyes the croupiers behind the surrounding gaming tables. Then he proceeds to make a move on Sylvia. He notices her surprise.
13.25
They make love.
13.45
Gilt lies flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. Sylvia lays on her side next to him, surveys his face, and playing with his hair.
‘Gilt..’
Gilt remains still, his eyes calm. As if he didn’t hear. Sylvia prods him.
‘Hey..’
‘Mmm?’
‘You know when you were talking to me about _.’
‘Who?’
‘_.’
‘Oh..’
‘You remember? You were telling me..’
Gilt looks at her.
‘So much for pillow talk.’
‘But, you..’
‘Huh..?’
‘_. Remember?’
‘Mmm..?’
Gilt feigns sleepiness, drooping his eyelids. Sylvia bites her lip, caressing and staring intently at his face. After a few moments, she collects herself, looks at him once more, and leaves.
7.21
Gilt wakes.
16.00
A bartender serves them their ninth drink. Sipping it, Gilt covertly surveys the croupiers behind the surrounding tables. He turns to Sylvia, looking purposely at her.
‘I..’
He turns away, looks down, then turns back, smiling weakly.
‘I had a strange dream last night.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes...’
He grimaces a little. She takes his hand in hers.
‘I was...’
She begins to eye him carefully.
‘...in London...’
Her head tilts a little, like a bird.
‘...in a...’
‘Yes..?’
‘...a hospital...’
‘Go on…’
‘So..’
‘So..?’
‘It was a little...bizarre..’
Gilt shakes his head, looking down at his drink.
‘Bizarre?’
‘Only in a dream...’
‘Only in a dream..?’
Gilt’s face is ashen. As if realising something. Finishing his drink, he nods to the bartender. Sylvia touches his arm.
‘It’s ok...’
She turns her head away from him, her hand still touching his arm. Gilt simulates a more drunken state.
‘He kept...’
She slowly turns her head back toward him.
‘...repeating...’
Sylvia stares intently at him.
‘...mouthing...’
Her mouth opens a little. Gilt pauses.
‘...something...’
Her hand slowly begins to reach behind her back. Gilt covertly notes it. He opens his mouth, about to emit something. Sylvia’s eyes widen.
‘Aiguilles Rouges.’
‘Aiguilles Rouges?’
Gilt tilts forward on his stool a little, using a hand to steady himself. Frowning, he casually waves a hand in the air.
‘Red Peaks...’
Before Sylvia can remove a weapon concealed behind her, Gilt
immediately drops the drunken facade, and grabs her hand as it activates her gun. Quickly turning and aiming her hand, he wraps his finger around hers on the trigger and shoots the bartender as she tries to stop him with her other arm. Still holding her gun in her hand, he swivels in quick succession, shooting the surrounding croupiers with precision. Then, turning her hand around, he slowly brings it up to her head and presses against her temple. Opening her mouth slightly, she looks at him in with an increasing, speechless terror. Gilt gestures nonchalantly.
‘I’m sorry it came to this.’
Chapter 6: Vanilla Sky
Sylvia’s other arm claws at his face. Pulling back, he closes his eyes and pulls her finger on the trigger of her gun. She slumps back over the chair, sliding onto the floor. Searching her body, he recovers his slender silver case. Getting up from his stool, he notices a rectangular device in the bartender’s hand. Sliding over the bar, he reaches down and unfurls the man’s fingers that clasp around it. Pocketing the device, Gilt slides back over the bar and casually walks back towards the staircase. He stops. His vision doubles. He kneels to the floor. He mentally tries to unify his divided perception. They refuse to collapse together. And their difference becomes palpable. Closing his eyes, Gilt concentrates. His hands close into fists. Then, opening his eyes wide, the double vision slowly merges together, as if bowing to his mental will, only for one of them to disappear. The stairs standing ahead of him are made of concrete. Gilt spins around. The room is a third of the size it was. The ceiling is low. And the central bar is a large concrete cylinder, painted green.
&
nbsp; 16.10
As the lift haphazardly ascends, Gilt attempts to put pressure upon the metal square within the centre of its low ceiling. But it remains impervious. The lift jerks around as it comes to a halt. As the doors open, Gilt peers out with a look of strange incredulity. The hallway feels derelict. The lighting is dim. The carpets are worn. The apartment doors are splintered. The walls are dirty. There is a stagnant smell. The floorboards creak as he exits the lift. He flinches as something small and brown scuttles by his feet as he walks. As he approaches the statue, he stops.
16.13
Gilt drags the cheap replica Ancient greek statue along the corridor, which tears through the dilapidated carpet, until he reaches the entrance to his apartment. The deteriorating door has a gash in it.
16.16
Using the statue as a ram rod, Gilt smashes it into the window overlooking Central Park. The dusty window cracks, and, beyond it, a screen splinters. The image upon the screen starts becomes pixelated. Gilt rams the statue once more. The screen falls away, revealing Aiguilles Rouge in the distance, beneath a vanilla sky. Staring incredulously, Gilt drops the statue, and slowly puts his head out of the window of what must be a derelict mountain hotel. Large snowflakes falls poetically. Gilt notices his car parked below. Removing the rectangular device from his jacket pocket, he taps it in quick succession with his fingers, then draws it near. A voices requests a code. He taps the device a few more times. It begins to pulsate. He continues holding it, waiting, until a distorted voice finally speaks through the poor reception.
‘Gi-lt..? Oh... thank... good-ness... Sylvia... said... you… had... disap-peared... That... there... delays... facili-ty..?’
‘She’s dead.’
‘...repeat..?’
‘Dead.’
‘...de-ad..?’
‘And everyone else at the facility.’
‘...dead..?’
‘A double agent.’
‘Gilt... what… was… it... tol-d... you..?’
‘You know she just spent the last few weeks attempting to extract that piece of information from me?’
‘... Gilt... look... we... runn-ing… out… time...’
‘Running out of time?’
‘L… taken... to... inte-nsive... days... ago... thought… he… answ-er...’
Red Peaks Page 5
