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"Ha-choo!"
"Gesundheit."
Nadia nodded a quick thanks to her companion, blowing her nose with a tissue from a wall dispenser before making use of the hand sanitizer beside it. "I don't know where that came from."
"It's probably nerves. I know I'm feeling queasy."
"Yes, but that's normal for you."
Thomas rolled his eyes. "I may be paranoid, but it doesn't mean I'm wrong."
She giggled, peeking around the corner of the small space they had taken refuge in when her sneeze had begun to come on; a break room by the looks of the cupboards, coffee maker and mini-fridge. The coast looked clear. Disposing of the dirty tissue, she motioned for Thomas to follow her back into the hallway. Having learned to act as though they belonged, they would nod to anyone they passed without slowing or stopping; not that there were many people here at this time of night. Still, so far things were going exactly the way they wanted, at least as far as avoiding unwanted social contact was concerned. Every so often they would hear the whir of a camera overhead, prompting them to keep quiet until they were further along the hallway; of course, they kept their hats as low over their faces as they could while still being able to see in front of themselves.
The halls weren't nearly as grand as the ground floor's impressive display, but neither were they as deliberately ignored as the change room had been. A simple grey carpet kept their footfalls quiet, while the immaculately white walls put their borrowed uniforms' spotless, starchy sleeves to shame. Not the most welcoming of places, but with the scant few people working the night shift Nadia doubted anyone genuinely cared.
Despite their success at staying under the radar, they had yet to locate Burgess' office, or any other bigwig's stomping ground for that matter. As a matter of fact, they had seen more storage rooms containing orange-hued construction uniforms and yellow helmets than proper offices. Empty meeting halls with whiteboards and folding chairs, sure, but nothing that looked like a substitute for a desk. Stopping to look through the window of the door to one such room, Nadia saw notes had been left on the room's whiteboard; projected expenditure for a project, lists of names to be assigned to various jobs on-site, recommended equipment for the work that needed doing.
Glancing to Thomas, she smirked slightly. "Is it me, or is this place trying really hard to make sure we know it's home to a construction company?"
He nodded, frowning. "No kidding. And this is only... what? The ninth floor, out of fifty?"
"Eleventh, I think," she corrected; furrowing her brow, she realized he was taking her remark more seriously than she had.
"Okay, eleventh. We're barely more than a fifth of the way up the building; you would think they would decide how to see to their projects nearer to the top, wouldn't you? I mean, the CEO has to approve these things, doesn't she?"
Nadia shrugged; she didn't exactly know very much about the inner workings of major corporations. "I'm really not sure. I would assume Ms. Fitch would have to give the okay for major things, but different companies work in different ways, right?"
Thomas nodded, slowly, but she could see he wasn't satisfied. "I guess. I'm still keeping my eyes peeled; I have a bad feeling about this."
She sighed, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "You've had it since before we came in, Thomas, if I know you as well as I think I do."
He chuckled softly, but said nothing more as they came up to the elevators again. Pressing the button, the doors of the elevator they had used on their way up opened, silently suggesting that there was not a great deal of inter-level transit happening tonight. Taking it up another storey, the pair stepped out onto the twelfth floor without looking up. The gleam off of the polished floor was their first clue that something was different; as their eyes travelled higher, they were provided others. The walls were panels of a smooth matte black and the floors could be mistaken for hardwood, all lit by sterile fluorescent light. It was still not quite as impressive as the ground floor's approach, but it was definitely nicer than the last ten floors.
Glancing to Thomas, she saw him grinning smugly and rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay, you were right, this is kind of weird. But let's not forget who brought it up first, mister."
He inclined his head towards her. "I'm satisfied with my role as-is."
She shook her head, but could not keep a smile off of her face. "All right, let's not get carried away, we're on a mission here, remember? I seem to remember you wanting to be gone in a hurry, no?"
"Yes," he replied, starting along the halls with her. "I most certainly do."
They quickly saw a difference; there was no one here at all, at least not out in the hallways. They glimpsed light coming from beneath some of the doors they passed, but they now had blinds or curtains across their windows and they could not see what was behind them without disturbing those inside. Rounding a second corner, now in the hall on the opposite side of the building from the elevators, they stopped dead in their tracks as they saw a sign protruding from the wall ahead of them. It was a simple affair, a smooth black rectangle with white, square letters, reading 'Chief of Security.'
The pair grinned at one another, each already knowing what the other was going to say. "Jackpot."
It was all they could do to keep themselves from sprinting to the door; they settled on a quick walk. Checking under the door, they saw no light from inside and quietly edged it open, turning the light on as they did. A vacant receptionist's desk came into view, the sort that had its front reaching nearly to the floor so you couldn't see the legs or feet of its occupant. Its clean wooden surface bore a phone and a computer monitor, but was also decorated with a few personal effects: the most notable of these was a picture of a young, beaming couple standing together in front of a Christmas tree. Though there was no concrete way to know which of the two actually worked here, Nadia silently sympathized with whoever it was for having to work directly under Burgess. Moving around the desk, the pair was most interested in what lay behind it: a set of doors made from a dark, polished wood. A small sign bearing the name 'T. Burgess' had been thoughtfully placed on the wall beside them, just in case someone forgot who the giant that worked here was.
Opening these doors, Nadia flipped the light on, but neither she nor Thomas saw what was inside; their attention had been suddenly redirected to their ears. Or, more specifically, what they heard approaching from the hallway. It was the sound of polished shoes meeting the immaculate floor at a brisk, determined pace, but it sounded a great deal more like the not-so-distant thunder of an oncoming storm to them. Worse, the steps fell heavily enough to resound even through the closed door of the office and that meant just one thing. It was too late to turn the lights off and, in a frantic bid to escape notice, Thomas pulled Nadia down to hide underneath the receptionist's desk, leaving the door to Burgess' office ajar and the lights inside switched on.
Burgess burst into the room, his eyes raking across the walls and floor like the talons of some great, predatory beast; they caught on the sight of the door to his office left ajar. He placed one hand atop his receptionist's desk and vaulted his way over it, knocking the phone's receiver out of its cradle and the monitor to the floor with the dull crack of plastic on tile. The picture of the couple remained just where it had been, though knocked flat onto the table. The frame and glass had been crushed beneath Burgess' hand as he passed over; he didn't so much as notice. Landing on one foot, he transitioned the momentum of the vaulting motion into a giant step, throwing the other door to his office open as he stormed inside to confront his unscheduled visitors. He growled as he found the room empty, but the sound of the door leading from his office into the hall slamming shut gave him an excellent idea as to where his quarry had gone.
Turning on his heel, he placed one hand beneath the desk he had just leaped across and casually threw it aside on his way to the door. Pulling the office door clean from its frame, it, too, was tossed aside like so much dead weight. Burgess silently reflected on t
his, realizing, as if for the first time, just how angry this particular duo had made him. He was going to enjoy their little chase. But not nearly as much as he would enjoy what came after catching them.
In Icarus' Shadow Page 24
