Transitory

Chapter 20

The office was quiet, a little more so than usual. A quick look to the clock confirmed the time was now eight forty-five. Another late night of arduous labour was ahead of him, even though he’d rolled in around five this morning. Stuart was still busy though, too busy to really care.

He darted about the open-plan office. His was the entire 160th level, where Forty-two members of staff spent their working days. With one last check, before he returned to his desk, he confirmed that all of them had left for the evening. He was finally safe to get to his real work, the kind done outside of working hours.

Stuart was rather nervous, to say the least. He chewed his bottom lip and was again sweating right through a crisp, clean shirt. Today he’d pretty much ruined two already. Never mind, he thought, he could simply buy more. He would just have to go easy on his lip, however, as he'd tasted a tiny bit of blood during his last anxious chomp.

The door to his own office was made of solid mahogany and was inlaid with the finest gold décor his pay-cheque allowed. Yet he only noticed the creek of its hinges as he pushed it open. The bloody thing had cost him a bomb and was let down by one cheap hinge.

Once inside his office and back to safety, Stuart fumbled for his personal communication device. This was a particularly expensive piece of hand-held kit that he took pride in owning. It allowed him to speak to someone many light years away, and with less than a nanosecond of delay.

He swiped the smooth surface of the device to bring it to life. It glowed brightly in the dim lighting of his office. Across the top of the display read a message that sent a chill down his spine: Recipient is unresponsive.

It was no good. However long he stared at it, nothing changed. He had sent countless messages over the past day, all of which came back with the same unhelpful notification. Unresponsive? What was Sarl doing?

In frustration he launched the device across the room. A smashing noise soon followed as his expensive toy shattered upon impact with his equally expensive and polished floor. He cared little for it now that his contact had disappeared.

His attention then turned to a small black cube, sat on the table behind his desk. He took his seat and swivelled it around to face the device. Behind this stretched a night-time scene of heavy traffic that, it could be argued, was almost beautiful. Of course his building towered over everything outside, a symbol of high status that he relished in.

After a few moments of being distracted by the view, he focused again on the black cube. He opened it up by folding out the top section. This device was actually more standard than his expensive hand-held one. But still its usefulness made it important to him. Even though its keys were in an alien text that he struggled to understand.

Mercifully, Sarl had shown him how to use it once before. He concentrated on his earlier lessons, running through each step in turn.

No more than three key inputs later and the device erupted into a glorious display of whizzing and whirling icons. The brightness at first caused him to shut his eyes. After a few seconds he was able to interact with the hovering holographic display as fast as he dared. This was of course much slower than he would have liked. He had important things to do, so the delay annoyed him immensely.

Eventually he managed to initiate a call to his contact. He waited patiently as it tried to connect. It buzzed repeatedly but no-one was answering.

“Dammit Sarl. Answer the call. Where the fuck are you?” He said, infuriated at the device for not doing as it was told.

His outburst sent a dull echo around the room. At first he thought this was what had caught his ear, but soon he wasn't so sure. From behind he heard something. He could just about make out the noise of a door slowly swinging open. The squeak from the hinge gave it away. He froze as the device in front of him continued to buzz. The office was empty, he had been certain of it only moments ago.

Facing the window he peered into the small amount of light that reflected back at him. There was definitely someone else in the room with him, possibly more than one. As he began to lean in and squint one of them came into view. He almost jumped out of his chair when he recognised the face.

“Nathan,” he said, with a certain amount of trepidation.

“Turn around Stuart.” Was Nate's reply.

Stuart hesitated as he thought over what to say. He immediately noticed the downward arch of Nate's mouth, accompanied by an unnerving glare. The reflection of his boss was angry. He knew why.

“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” he said.

“Turn around,” Nate again asked.

Once again Stuart was sweating, except now it was coming through his suit. The moisture wasn't content with having fully saturated his shirt underneath. His first instinct was to flap his suit jacket open a few times to clear some of the excess heat. After that he decided to quickly deactivate the device in front of him. The last thing he wanted was for Sarl to answer at that moment. Sweating too much was one thing. Why a murderer was calling him, on the other hand, was something altogether more difficult to explain.

His chair squeaked as he slowly rotated it. Suddenly he could see who else had entered his private sanctum unannounced. In the dim light of his office he could see Nate was joined by Helen, Cameron and two odd looking characters, both of whom were dressed like some kind of monk.

“Good to see you all,” Stuart said.

The group stared at him. He could almost feel their eyes burning through him. But how much did they know? He wondered. Even if Sarl had told them, surely they wouldn’t believe any of it. After all he had worked closely with Nate and Helen for years. He was confident they would allow him to explain.

“Well. Where do I start?” He asked.

“How about with this?” Nate said.

Stuart was horrified to see Nate holding the emblem Sarl had threatened him with before. Shit, he thought. They knew everything and were there to take him in. He was facing a lynch mob.

“What’s that?” He tried to say confidently but stuttered instead.

“It’s what’s on it that you should be worried about,” Helen said.

“I have no idea what you mean, Helen. Did you both enjoy your vacation? Relaxed are we?”

They didn't answer. But the two strange looking characters began to move around the table toward him, one from either side.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Stuart said with his hand extended, ready to greet the one to his left.

Again no one spoke. The two continued to approach him, as he leaned uncomfortably in his seat. He had nowhere to go. He decided it would be best to stand and continue acting as if he had no idea about the emblem.

“Well, I must be—” Stuart managed to say before he was thrust back into his padded leather chair. “Hey,” he protested.

The man approaching from his right, the oldest of the two, then joined his friend in holding him down. The two weren't allowing him to move at all, as Nate leant on his desk.

“You’ve really been a lot of trouble, haven’t you Stuart?” Nate said.

“Look, I—” Again Stuart was interrupted by the two to the side of him. This time the older of the two started to grope his bald head. It was odd but only slightly threatening. “Is this supposed to scare me or something?” He said.

“No,” Nate said. “My friends here are going to see what else you’ve been up to.”

Stuart's head was now held, locked in place. “What? How?” He said with his eyes uncomfortably lodged in the top corners of their sockets, just to see Nate.

“Let’s say they’re good at reading people.” Nate appeared to share a joke with the others, who all giggled along with him.

“Bullshit,” Stuart said. They wouldn’t get anything from him, he vowed. What were they going to do, read his thoughts?

THE END

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