A quick check of the monitor showed him the family had gotten closer to their destination floor. Just before they arrived, he hit enter. The lift stopped.
Frank released a stuttered sigh and swallowed against his dry throat. He wiped the sweat from his brow. “There.”
The pressure beneath his ear eased off slightly. “Good. Now redirect it to the penthouse.”
“But they have children with them!”
The next blow made a wet pulse throb in Frank’s ears. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth and he gulped a huge swill of metallic saliva. A wet heave threw half of it back up his throat. He swallowed it back down, and the bitter taste made him shudder.
“Well?” the man demanded.
Frank slurred his words. “You’ve got to stop hitting me; once more and I’ll be done for.”
The barrel left the spot beneath his ear and Frank flinched as he waited for another blow.
It never came.
The man behind him calmed down. “So, I have you on side?”
Frank nodded.
“I swear your family are fucked if you mess this up. Eight of my boys are sitting in your front room right now with them.”
The man put his phone in front of Frank. It took a few seconds before Frank made sense of the image. Men surrounded his family with more weapons than a small nation. Another gulp of his own blood, and Frank said, “Okay. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
“Redirect them to the penthouse.”
The little girl, the youngest of the family, couldn’t have been any older than three. A doll hung limp from her hands and her jaw hung loose as she stared around the lift. Her brother played a game on a phone. More tears rolled down Frank’s face as he typed on the keyboard and pressed ‘enter’ again.
The lift came to life. The family inside visibly relaxed and the dad hugged his daughter.
When it passed what was clearly their floor, the dad pressed the button on the panel. At first, he pressed it hard. Then he jabbed it. Before long, he hammered it repeatedly.
Frank’s sweaty fingers flew over the keyboard and he managed to hit ‘enter’ before the dad pressed the emergency call button. When the dad pressed it, it did nothing.
As the family elevated, the man in the room with Frank said, “You know who we are?”
“I’m guessing you’re from The East.”
“Check you out, brainiac. The accent gave me away, huh?”
Frank shrugged.
“We found out about your little experiment going on today; about your plans to drop it on us.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about what they’d planned to do with it.”
“Bullshit! It doesn’t matter though. When we’re done, you’ll wish you were dead. You’ll probably wish your family were dead too.”
Frank’s entire body tensed. “Leave my family alone. You said you wouldn’t do anything to them if I did as you say.”
“And I won’t, Frankie-boy. I won’t.” His voice dropped to a low hiss. “You’ll wish I had though.”
***
The walk from Building Seventy-Two to the square only took five minutes. Despite the short distance, by the time Rhys had sat down on the wall that surrounded the water fountain, sweat had stuck his shirt to his back.
At least he had the comfort of his old trainers rather than his work loafers. He’d left his tie in his top drawer and shoes beneath his desk. They were items for the subservient. A necessity while in Building Seventy-Two, but no one could tell him what to do on his lunch break. At work, he would often remove his shoes and not put them back on until the end of the day. It was a ‘fuck you’ to the bosses… an act of rebellion that gave him a small sense of freedom. People may have given him strange looks when he walked around the building in his socks, but fuck what other people thought.
Ian, the office pedant, had gone as far as to suggest no shoes went against health and safety. Ian could go fuck himself. The look Rhys gave him at the time conveyed that thought. The jobsworth never brought it up again.
The
Frank released a stuttered sigh and swallowed against his dry throat. He wiped the sweat from his brow. “There.”
The pressure beneath his ear eased off slightly. “Good. Now redirect it to the penthouse.”
“But they have children with them!”
The next blow made a wet pulse throb in Frank’s ears. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth and he gulped a huge swill of metallic saliva. A wet heave threw half of it back up his throat. He swallowed it back down, and the bitter taste made him shudder.
“Well?” the man demanded.
Frank slurred his words. “You’ve got to stop hitting me; once more and I’ll be done for.”
The barrel left the spot beneath his ear and Frank flinched as he waited for another blow.
It never came.
The man behind him calmed down. “So, I have you on side?”
Frank nodded.
“I swear your family are fucked if you mess this up. Eight of my boys are sitting in your front room right now with them.”
The man put his phone in front of Frank. It took a few seconds before Frank made sense of the image. Men surrounded his family with more weapons than a small nation. Another gulp of his own blood, and Frank said, “Okay. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
“Redirect them to the penthouse.”
The little girl, the youngest of the family, couldn’t have been any older than three. A doll hung limp from her hands and her jaw hung loose as she stared around the lift. Her brother played a game on a phone. More tears rolled down Frank’s face as he typed on the keyboard and pressed ‘enter’ again.
The lift came to life. The family inside visibly relaxed and the dad hugged his daughter.
When it passed what was clearly their floor, the dad pressed the button on the panel. At first, he pressed it hard. Then he jabbed it. Before long, he hammered it repeatedly.
Frank’s sweaty fingers flew over the keyboard and he managed to hit ‘enter’ before the dad pressed the emergency call button. When the dad pressed it, it did nothing.
As the family elevated, the man in the room with Frank said, “You know who we are?”
“I’m guessing you’re from The East.”
“Check you out, brainiac. The accent gave me away, huh?”
Frank shrugged.
“We found out about your little experiment going on today; about your plans to drop it on us.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about what they’d planned to do with it.”
“Bullshit! It doesn’t matter though. When we’re done, you’ll wish you were dead. You’ll probably wish your family were dead too.”
Frank’s entire body tensed. “Leave my family alone. You said you wouldn’t do anything to them if I did as you say.”
“And I won’t, Frankie-boy. I won’t.” His voice dropped to a low hiss. “You’ll wish I had though.”
***
The walk from Building Seventy-Two to the square only took five minutes. Despite the short distance, by the time Rhys had sat down on the wall that surrounded the water fountain, sweat had stuck his shirt to his back.
At least he had the comfort of his old trainers rather than his work loafers. He’d left his tie in his top drawer and shoes beneath his desk. They were items for the subservient. A necessity while in Building Seventy-Two, but no one could tell him what to do on his lunch break. At work, he would often remove his shoes and not put them back on until the end of the day. It was a ‘fuck you’ to the bosses… an act of rebellion that gave him a small sense of freedom. People may have given him strange looks when he walked around the building in his socks, but fuck what other people thought.
Ian, the office pedant, had gone as far as to suggest no shoes went against health and safety. Ian could go fuck himself. The look Rhys gave him at the time conveyed that thought. The jobsworth never brought it up again.
The
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