The Assault: The Revealing, Infestation, Infiltration, The Fog Read online

  The doorman opened the front door to the lobby. I say front door, but it was more than one door. There were several doors set in a wall of glass. Pretty sleek. I said he opened the door to the lobby, but he didn’t really. He opened the door to a massive foyer. The building was tall with straight lines like giant refrigerator box set on end, but there was more to it than that. The big part of the building was set back from the street with the entrance—an extension that was as curvy as the rest of the building was straight—protruding to nearly the edge of the sidewalk.

  We walked into the wide glass foyer. I caught sight of the professor slipping some folding money to the doorman, who took it without hesitation.

  The ceiling of the foyer was curved, as were its walls. It was like walking into a bubble. Pretty neat. As soon as the door closed behind us, the outside sounds disappeared, replaced by the soothing bubbling of a fountain directly ahead. A single spiraling shaft rose from the wide fountain eight feet or so in the air and spurted out a gentle flow of water that fell into the fountain’s pool. The water was blue—I should say, it appeared blue. More lighting tricks. The spiral spout was jade green.

  A set of wide steps waited in front of us. There were only three risers.

  “Interesting,” Andi said.

  Of course, I had to ask. “What?”

  “Look at the tiles on the floor. Maybe they’re called pavers, whatever. There are fifty tiles across the lobby. They’re all blue marble—probably fake marble—except for the green ones that form a line.” She studied the floor for a few moments. We didn’t bother her. This is what Andi does. She sees patterns in almost everything. Seeing patterns in the floor tile would surprise no one who knew her.

  “Each tile is about a foot square. That means the foyer is fifty-feet wide. Fifty. Like the number of stories in the building. And the green tiles start in the thirteenth row and run up the steps—”

  “Like the green band on the outside of the building,” I said.

  “Listen to you, Cowboy, going all Andi on us.” Brenda seemed impressed.

  I shrugged. “It’s hard to miss.”

  “I saw that, too.” Andi nodded. “I think the band would be the thirteenth floor. They carried the theme into the building.”

  “It’s just consistency in design.” The professor could be dismissive. “It’s part of the theme.”

  “If you say so.” Andi seemed a little miffed. “I’m just bringing it up.”

  We walked up the three rows of steps, past the fountain, and into a much wider and taller space. The real lobby. People wandered about, many of the men in the same kind of tuxedo straightjacket I was wearing.

  “This place is amazing,” I said. I was looking at the ceiling. Somehow, long glowing strips of light ran the width of the ceiling. This light was white and was the only illumination I saw. Curved blue couches were tucked here and there. The backs of the sofas were low and streamlined. The dark blue tile transitioned into rows of lighter blue until all the blue was gone and a few rows of white were left. Those ran in front of a wide desk like those in a fancy hotel. Several men and women stood behind the counter-high desk talking to guests. Behind the counter area were two tall structures that looked suspiciously like the building we were in. They even had the green stripe.

  “You know, I once thought about being an architect.” The professor seemed to be sucking in the sights. “I studied it for a bit, but then got derailed by seminary.” He shook his head. “I should have stayed the course. I would have been of more use to society as an architect than I was as a priest.”

  When we first became a team—at the time we didn’t know we were a team—I would have argued with him. Never did any good. Besides, this wasn’t the place to start a conversation that would put him in a bad mood. He had been almost fun to be around this evening. Not something I could say most times.

  “But if you did that, Professor, then you would have missed out on meeting me.”

  The professor glanced at Brenda. “I think you have that backward, Barnick. You would have had to miss me.” He paused. “Either way, we both might have been better off.”

  And there it was. Dr. James McKinney had—just like old milk—turned sour. Brenda didn’t respond, and for that I will forever be thankful.

  Something else caught my eye. Spaced around the large lobby were glowing blue trees. Not real trees because trees don’t usually glow. These were like sculptures—art. Each tree stood about five feet tall, had no leaves, and looked as if they were made of glass. As cool as the whole lobby was, those tree things were the coolest. If I were a thief, I’d have spent a little time trying to figure out how to sneak one of those babies out the front door. It would make a great night-light for Daniel.

  Daniel was looking at them, too.

  “Pretty great, right, little dude?”

  He didn’t answer. Nothing new there. He did, however, look puzzled. Not afraid. Just confused. He’s a smart kid, so I knew I didn’t need to tell him they weren’t real trees. Maybe he was trying to figure out how they worked. I would have told him. If I knew how they worked.

  We followed the professor to the long curved desk where three people in dark suits stood.

  “Dr. James McKinney and party.” The professor had chosen one of the women to speak to. She had very blue eyes. So blue I suspected they were contact lenses. He reached into an inside pocket of his tuxedo coat and removed five invitations. They looked like tickets to a movie or something.

  She smiled, took the invitations, and scanned them with one of those laser scanners you see in some stores. This scanner looked a little more high-tech. “Thank you, Dr. McKinney.” She handed one invitation back to him.

  “Ms. Barnick?” the receptionist said.

  “Yo.”

  The professor cringed.

  The blue-eyed woman handed an invitation to Brenda. “Please keep these with you at all times. They are part of the security system.” She handed back the rest of the invitations. She hesitated when she saw Daniel, but only for a moment. I guess she wasn’t expecting four adults to walk in with a kid.

  Speaking of security—at each end of the check-in counter stood a man in a gray suit coat. Both were about my size, and each wore a security badge. The one on the right nodded at me. It was what one jock did when meeting another.

  We were directed to the elevators at the back of the lobby and told to use the one on the right. It was one of six elevators.

  As we approached the elevator, I asked why we had to take the one on the right.

  “Most likely,” the professor said, “the others don’t open on the top floor.”

  Made sense to me.

  Before we could press the Up button on the panel next to the elevator, the doors opened for us.

  Andi stopped in her tracks. “It’s like it sensed our presence.”

  “I think it did.” The professor continued into the elevator cab. “I bet our invitations have RFID chips.”

  Brenda and I gave the professor a puzzled look.

  “You wanna explain that, McKinney?”

  I’m glad Brenda asked. Sometimes I get tired of being the one who doesn’t know anything, although I know more than most people think.

  “RFID. Radio Frequency Identification. It’s used for many things, including security badges. The elevator knows we are near and that we have the right invitations.”

  “Of course,” Brenda said. “So they can track us.”

  “That’s a little paranoid, Barnick.” The professor paused as we stepped into the elevator cab. “But yes, they can.”

  CHAPTER

  3

  Top Floor Party

  The elevator was completely red inside. Like the building, like the fake trees in the lobby, the walls glowed. Since coming here I had been blue and now red.

  “Odd,” Andi said.

  “Uh-oh, here it comes.” Brenda and Andi got along pretty good, but no one was protected from Brenda’s quips. “Whatcha got, Pattern Girl?”
>
  “Again with the Pattern Girl, Brenda? Really?”

  “Sorry.”

  She didn’t sound sorry to me. “What is it, Andi?”

  Andi pointed at the control panel. “There’s no floor thirteen. Either someone can’t count or they’re a tad on the superstitious side.”

  The professor grunted. “Most likely the latter. It used to be customary to avoid the number thirteen in buildings. It’s called triskaidekaphobia.”

  No one questioned the professor about the term, but that didn’t stop him. “The word means fear of thirteen.”

  “Good to know,” Brenda said. “I could be on Jeopardy someday.”

  The professor grunted his doubt. Sadly, he goes through more ups and downs than this elevator.

  I looked at the panel. Andi was right: eleven, twelve, fourteen. “So there’s no thirteenth floor?”

  The professor sighed. “Think about it, Tank. Of course there’s a thirteenth floor. It’s just not numbered thirteen—that, or the floor is occupied by one of the companies that share ownership of the building and they have their own elevator.”

  “Why would they do that?” I had a good idea, but nothing puts the professor in a better mood than when he feels like he’s enlightening us.

  “To keep people from accidently going to the floor. Perhaps it’s a government agency that doesn’t want foot traffic—”

  “Like spies and stuff?” Daniel asked.

  The doctors could say what they want about Daniel’s mental and emotional problems, but he didn’t miss a trick.

  “Could be, son. Could be. Or maybe something a little more boring. Anyway, there are many reasons this elevator might not have a button for the thirteenth floor. For all we know, that floor could be used for all the equipment that keeps a building like this working. You wouldn’t want people accidentally popping into a place like that. Especially in the age of terrorism.”

  “I still think it’s weird.” Brenda tugged at her evening gown. She looked great, but I was pretty sure this was the first time she had worn fancy duds like this. I didn’t feel so alone.

  “Zebras.” The professor’s one-word comment caught us all off guard.

  “Zebras?” Brenda said. “You have a thing for zebras?”

  Again the professor sighed. He was a master at it. He had taken the art of sighing to new heights. It had become a game with us: Can we get him to sigh in some new way?

  “First thing doctors learn in med school is this: When you hear the sound of hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.”

  I decided to take a stab at interpretation. “So, look for the common and not the unusual?”

  “Spot on, Tank.”

  My first impulse was to remind everyone that we had seen quite a few zebras since we were thrown together.

  The elevator slowed and the doors parted to reveal a wide and open room. No walls. A person could see from one end of the building to the other. Windows surrounded us on three sides. Only the rear wall was solid. Blue light spilled in through the glass, but was much dimmer than what I had seen outside. Scores of people milled around the open space. The men wore tuxedos and the women wore evening dresses. We fit right in. Even little Daniel.

  There were dozens of the glow-light trees we had seen in the lobby. In the center of the room was a wide and very long table that supported a couple dozen model buildings, including a mock-up of the one we were in. Some were much taller, apparently built out of the way of commercial airlines. I first noticed the model of the building we were in, then I noticed an odd, narrow, pyramid-like building. It didn’t seem to fit with the others. It was dark, colored with black and browns. Kinda gave me the creeps.

  Nearby stood several short partitions, all red like the insides of the elevator. Attached to those were a bunch of large photos. Even at a distance, I could see they were portraits of Allen Krone, the head of the architecture company.

  “Welcome.” The word came from a woman approaching from our left. Unlike the other women in the room, she wore . . . I guess you’d call it a waiter’s uniform. “My name is Mable. I’m one of the greeters.”

  She didn’t look like a Mable. She had straight black hair, bangs that hung to her perfect eyebrows, and the same kind of blue eyes the receptionist had.

  “Good evening, Mable. I’m Dr. McKinney and these are my good friends Andrea Goldstein, Brenda Barnick, and Bjorn Christensen. And this little man is Daniel.”

  Daniel scooted closer to Brenda.

  The runway model/greeter smiled. “I’m very glad to meet you, and I know Mr. Krone is pleased you responded to his invitation.”

  None of us mentioned the fact that we hadn’t been invited by Mr. Krone.

  Mable bent forward without bothering to bend her knees. Her face was pointed at Daniel, the rest of her was pointed—elsewhere. Andi and Brenda exchanged glances. I did the same with the professor. We chose not to speak.

  “You look so handsome in that tuxedo, Daniel,” Mable said. “I know there are a lot of adults around here, but that’s okay. I made sure there was ice cream and cake for special guests like you. Just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll make sure you get a big bowl.” She straightened. “If that’s all right?” She looked at each of us.

  Brenda answered. “It’s fine with me as long as I get some, too.”

  Mable’s smile widened. “There’s plenty. This is a party, after all.” She motioned around the room. “Please feel free to explore. We have an exhibit of some of the more interesting buildings the firm has done and a portrait gallery of Mr. Krone through the years. There is a snack table on the east side with chocolate-covered strawberries, caviar, and many other delicacies. Next to it is a hosted bar. The wines are especially good.

  “Exits are clearly marked, as are the restrooms. If you have any questions, you’ll find other greeters and hostesses wandering the floor. We’ve all dressed alike so we will be easy to find.”

  A mild tone sounded behind us, and the elevator doors opened. In the short time we had been chatting, or rather, Mable had been chatting, the elevator had retrieved more guests.

  I looked at the professor. He looked at Andi. Andi looked at Brenda. Brenda looked at me.

  “I’m startin’ to feel a tad conspicuous just standing here,” I said. “What do we do now?” I looked at the professor again. He shrugged. Some leader.

  “Kinda makes you wish you knew why we’re here, doesn’t it?” Brenda said.

  “We never know until we’re in the thick of it.” Andi spoke just above a whisper.

  “That’s the fun of it.” Brenda pulled at her dress again. “I think this thing is trying to squeeze the life out of me.”

  “Think of it as a long-lasting hug.” Andi said that with a grin.

  “That’s a creepy thought.”

  Brenda isn’t the huggin’ type. Except with Daniel. He’s gotten his fair share of hugs from her, but then again, he’s Daniel.

  “Speaking of Daniel,” I said.

  Andi hiked an eyebrow. “We weren’t talking about Daniel.”

  “I know; I was thinking,” I said. “Never mind. Where is he?”

  Brenda glanced to her side. He wasn’t there. “He was just here.” I heard the concern in her voice.

  “He’s okay. I mean, where could he have gone? Let’s spread out. Andi you check the food area—maybe he went for the promised ice cream. Tank, you check the bathroom—”

  “Excuse me.”

  The voice was deep, but a little weak. I turned. There was Daniel, standing three feet away holding the hand of a dapper gray-haired old gent.

  “It seems this young man wants us to meet.”

  His words flowed easily, and I could hear some humor in them.

  “Daniel!” Brenda cleared her throat. “What are you doing?” She made eye contact with the man. Daniel continued to hold on to the gentleman’s hand. “I hope he wasn’t a bother, sir.”

  Another smile. “Not at all. He has been every bit the gentleman.”
>
  Daniel smiled. Then the light in my brain went on. Daniel had just found the star of the party: Allen Krone. Well, at least one of us could make a decision.

  Brenda was a leaf in a hurricane. “He . . . he just walked up and began talking to you?”

  “Yes. Very friendly child.” Krone extended his hand to Brenda. “I’m Allen Krone. Welcome to my retirement party.”

  Brenda shook his hand. “I’m embarrassed, I mean. Brenda. Brenda Barnick. I’m Daniel’s guardian.” It took another second for Brenda to take her foot off the throttle of her brain. She made introductions, introducing the professor last. At least she did right by him, calling him “Dr. James McKinney.”

  “Doctor McKinney. MD?”

  Daniel finally let go of Krone’s hand.

  “No, PhD” The professor shifted gears. “This is a lovely building. You must be very proud of it.”

  Krone’s smile widened. “I am. Of course, I owe my partners a great deal of the credit. I confess to overseeing the aesthetics, but Jonathan and Ebony handled the interior and structural details.” Then, as if an afterthought, said, “Jonathan Waterridge and Ebony Watt, the other principals in the firm.”

  Andi had already told us their names, so they weren’t new to us.

  He pointed to a small group near the center of the room. “That’s them over there. With the mayor and his wife.”

  Jonathan Waterridge was tall, maybe six-two or so, thin, and had a fairly large nose. Not huge, but large enough to guarantee he took a ribbin’ when he was a kid. The mayor was not tall, but he was stout. What he lacked in height he made up for in girth. His wife looked half his age and a third his width, and her platinum blond curls flashed in the glow of the trees.

  A motion to my right caught my attention. Daniel had moved to Brenda’s side and was pulling on her dress. She took his hand in self-defense. If my little buddy pulled any more, we might see more of Brenda than we had ever seen before.

  “Excuse me. Daniel was promised some ice cream, and it seems he wants it right now.”