Chapter Thirty-Five
Tyrone had finished mulling over his concerns by the time he hit the lobby and had moved on to a state of resigned growling. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen and he would just have to deal with it when it did. His precautions would be sufficient, or they wouldn't and he would have to improvise. A more zen-like approach than he was accustomed to, but it would have to do until he had more information. For now, he had a plan to follow and one his employer had been very specific about, which usually meant it was crucially important. Besides, there was nothing to be gained in letting his suspicions impede his work. Not until it was absolutely necessary, anyway.
Walking across the lobby, caught up in his thoughts the way he was, it was left up to those in his path to notice his approach and clear the way. It was coming up on nine-thirty now and the night shift of security guards had already started. They were understandably nervous that their chief of security was still at work, of course; Tyrone had only spent the night with them during his first week on the job and had been sure to put a fear of him into them, as he did with most of his subordinates. So it was with a certain annoyance that he felt something impact against his abdominal muscles, stirring him from his thoughts. The collision hadn't so much as bruised him, Tyrone was well-used to being the truck on the road amidst cars of lesser size, but he was sure that he had trained his staff better than that. Looking down, however, brought on an entirely new wave of emotions, most of them negative, as he recognized the scrawny man he had bowled over.
Jason, in his usual faded jeans and graffiti-laden jacket, was sprawled out on the floor before him. Blinking up at the giant, his expression rapidly changed from one of anger at having been knocked down to one of apology; he knew better. That did not change the fact that Tyrone was in no way pleased to see him.
"Jason," he began, as calmly as he possibly could. "What the hell are you doing here?"
The smaller individual bounced to his feet. "Tyrone, my man, it's good to see you!"
He really didn't have the time to do this just now. "You didn't answer my question, Jason."
"Huh?" was his well-informed reply. "Oh, right. I came to see you. Look, I know you were totally pissed at me the last time we talked, but I figured I'd give you the time to calm down before I asked for another chance."
Tyrone grimaced involuntarily at the notion of having his least reliable underling back on the payroll. Yeah, that's not happening in a hurry. "Why in the world would I give you another chance, Jason? You've used up every chance I had. Not just a second chance. Not even a third. I think you were on your eighth chance before I stopped counting. That's too many, Jason."
"Ninth, actually," he supplied, before shrinking back a step at Tyrone's look of frustration. "I was keeping track in case you forgot! And I get that you're mad, you've said my name like four times already. I know that I have a lot of accidents happen around me, but it's not my fault and I really do try!"
Tyrone shook his head, preparing to order the toothpick of a man out of his building, before a thought struck him. More of an idea. A delicious, slightly mean-spirited idea. "All right, Jason, I'll give you a shot. One last chance."
He started positively beaming. "Thank you, boss, I promise you won't be sorry!"
He smiled darkly. "Oh, I sincerely hope you're right about that."
Utterly missing the monolithic man's tone, Jason self-consciously smoothed his clothes out; not that it actually made him look any more like he fit into the look of this particular building. "So, what do I have to do?"
Tyrone kept his instructions simple; he did not have a great deal of confidence in Jason's intelligence. "I want you to head upstairs to my office on the twelfth floor, then go into the security monitor room, which is immediately beside it. My second-in-command, Rei Murakami, is there, keeping an eye on things. Tell her that you're going to be there to assist her should I need you both to go to the top floor to keep the CEO, Giselle Fitch, safe. Have you got all that?"
He nodded rapidly. "Twelfth floor, room beside your office, helping Rei Murakami, waiting to see if we're going to keep an eye on the CEO. Right?"
Tyrone nodded. "Yeah, that's right. And if I need you to go up there, Jason, I want you to do everything in your power to keep the CEO safe. She is your number one priority and Murakami is number two. Do you understand?"
Jason did his best impression of a soldier standing at attention and gave an awkward salute. "Sure thing, Boss, I'm all over it. I'll take bullets for them if I have to."
He smiled thinly. If only I believed you were actually skilled enough to do it. "I don't think it will come to that. Now get going."
He watched his most troublesome subordinate start scurrying off, but flinched as he paused and turned back. He can't have forgotten already. Not that fast.
Coming to stand before Tyrone again, Jason scratched at his chin. "Say, Boss?"
Sighing, Tyrone did his best to be patient. "Yes, Jason?"
"I know that the only one in the CEO's office should be Miss Fitch, but in case there's another guard watching the monitors, what does Murakami look like?"
Tyrone wasn't sure if he should be impressed or frustrated. On the one hand, it was a surprisingly well thought out question, especially for Jason. On the other, the woman's name suggested a certain ethnicity, if nothing else. "Black hair, pale skin tone, brown eyes and a little on the short side."
When Jason didn't move, he sighed. "What, Jason?"
He shrugged uncertainly. "Well, it's just that... isn't everyone short compared to you, Boss? Maybe she's not actually short?"
Just keep calm, Tyrone; you can bawl him out later, when this is all over. "I think she's about five foot three."
Jason nodded. "See? That's actually a little more than average height for a lady, isn't it?"
Tyrone felt a vein twitch along the side of his head. "Jason."
He blinked up at his boss for a moment before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. "Huh? Oh, right, going to see her. Sorry."
The giant rubbed at his offending vein for a moment as he watched Jason moving towards the elevators; best he make sure he get all the way there. Sure enough, and much to his aggravation, the man turned back to him after pressing the call button. "Say, Boss, is she hot?"
Oh, for the love of... "Jason!"
The smaller man jumped, scurrying backwards into the elevator with a hurried "Right, going!" thrown through the closing doors. Tyrone, now growling for an entirely different reason, turned on his heel; this brief detour had cost him time and he knew that his employer would not take kindly to the delay. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of someone tip-toeing their way towards the stairwell out of the corner of his eye. His peripheral vision was not quite clear enough to provide him any specific details, but he was sure that there was only one person, not two, and the individual was keeping themselves pressed against the wall in a vain attempt to avoid being seen. Glancing around, he saw he was the only one presently in the lobby and nodded in satisfaction. No one else was present to see their uninvited guest, which was as it should have been. There was, after all, no point in closing the mouth of the trap while the ones they were hoping to catch were only halfway inside and still able to escape. With his mood rapidly improving, he strode quickly from the lobby so their intruder could make the most of his, or her, head-start. He nodded briskly to the few guards he encountered on his route and quickly located the door he needed; a heavy, brown-painted metal affair with a brightly coloured sign announcing that the basement was below and that only authorized personnel were to be within.
Fitting the appropriate key into the lock, he passed through the now-opened portal and flicked the light switch set in the wall just beyond it to the on position. The lights below flickered to life, revealing a flight of steel stairs that were only half-illuminated, the fluorescent bulbs below only intended to bring light to the basement area, not the stairs leading to it. This did not bother Tyrone in the slightest, he could
see well enough that there was no real possibility that he would miss a step and injure himself. Pulling the door shut behind himself, he made his way down the metal staircase, the tapping produced by his feet against the hard surface of the steps the only sound to be heard.
Reaching the tiled floor of the basement, he cast a glance around; he did not expect anyone to be down here, it was more of a cautious habit. He saw the furnace, dormant for nearly a month now that spring had come around and it was no longer necessary. He could hear the faint sound of water being pumped through the building's plumbing from across the room now as his ears adjusted to the near-silence and he followed the winding path of the pipes along the ceiling with his eyes, knowing they spider-webbed their way through various walls all the way to the fifty-first floor, Giselle's penthouse apartment. He may not have been a terribly artistic individual, but he could appreciate a system that worked from its foundations to its very highest point.
Finding a metal folding chair tucked into a corner, he set it up and sat down, balancing his cellphone on his knee as he tried to get comfortable. An ultimately futile quest, he discovered, as the chair was simply too small for his frame. Sighing, he plucked the phone from its resting place and flipped it open. Checking his reception, he was surprised to find his phone was receiving signal just as strongly as it usually did. The boss must have set something up, he mused to himself. I need to stop underestimating what he can pull off.
Remembering the protocol in contacting his employer, he dialled the first number that came into his mind, which he half-remembered as being a pizza place a few blocks from the I.D.I. building. Hearing the other end come to life, he hung up immediately, doubtless confusing the young lady who had picked up the phone. Placing the phone back on his knee, he crossed his arms and waited. Precisely thirty seconds later, it began to ring and he picked it up again. Flipping it open, he held it to his ear.
"You are in position, then?"
Tyrone smirked, but kept his tone a professional one. "Of course."
"And our mice?"
"Someone used the back door roughly ten minutes ago. I have Murakami watching the monitors to keep track of their progress, but I caught a quick glimpse of one of them making a dash for the stairwell not more than two or three minutes ago."
His employer's tone became urgent. "They don't know they were seen, do they?"
Tyrone's, in turn, became reassuring. "No, Sir, they shouldn't. I didn't react to seeing them and no one else was present at the time. We have yet to locate our second mouse, but I think it's safe to assume that where one is, we'll find the other sooner or later."
"I agree. Are there any other concerns, then?"
"Well, I've had some of my men combing the city for days trying to get an idea of where Black has been hiding, but they've come up empty. There's no reason I can think of that he'd be here tonight, but we should be prepared anyway."
"He won't be a problem," was the reply. "I've thought this through carefully. In fact, I am hoping he does, it will answer some questions of my own. Either way, I am confident we are suitably prepared."
"I'm relieved to hear that, Sir."
Tyrone heard the man chuckle through the phone. "As well you should be. Now then; let us begin."
In Icarus' Shadow Page 51
