Parallelogram : Day Two : Chapter 09
Five Days, Twenty Hours, Forty-Nine Minutes
Quietly, DeMarco sat up in bed. He slid out from the covers easily, careful not to wake the sleeping beauty lying next to him. Planting his feet firmly on the floor, he felt around for his clothing, found it, and cautiously slipped into his socks, underwear, and slacks. From the bottom drawer of the nightstand table, he found the black fitted nylon shirt that Matthew had left for him ... along with the small knapsack. He stood, pulling the shirt over his head. Clipping the sack to his belt loop, he picked up his swipecard room key – technology never seemed to amaze him – and he left the room.
He walked down the hallway, glancing up slightly at the security camera monitoring his every movement ... but it was of little concern.
'Let them record me,' he thought. 'It will only intensify their grief once I have finished what I came here to do ... that I was here ... that I was recorded ... and yet no one lifted a finger to stop me.'
Reaching the stairwell, he turned the knob and stepped into the hollow. Matthew and Lisa, both dressed in black, stood waiting.
"I certainly hope you had fun," Lisa teased, her voice above a whisper.
Smiling, DeMarco replied, "One must do ... what one must do."
He passed his room key to her, and Lisa slipped it into her pocket.
"Let her sleep for an hour more," DeMarco said.
"And then?"
The man showed no expression when he ordered, "Do with her as you wish."
The American woman nodded. "How would you like me to kill her?"
DeMarco understood the fascination with taking another life. He had killed dozens, hundreds, if not thousands of innocents ... all for a variety of causes he served, noble or not. He understood what Lisa was thinking, and he found himself attracted to her more than before.
"Be creative ... but be quick. And, for God's sake, don't make a mess of it."
With an evil grin, Lisa disappeared down the stairwell.
"Let me explain the set-up for you, my friend," Matthew offered. Reaching out, he cracked open the stairwell door far enough for the two of them to glance out into the hallway. "When you walked down the hallway, you undoubtedly noticed the surveillance camera. The Heston is loaded with them, ten to a floor ... except for the seventh floor. It has only three. Two of them are trained in the direction of the opposite stairwells, and the third one is trained on the middle of the three elevators."
"Why so few on this floor?"
Matthew smiled. "Did you honestly think I was going to have one my closest and dearest friends in the world come all the way to Washington, D.C., and that I wouldn't get you the best suite available?"
"You are too kind."
"Let's agree that I know a thing or two of being hospitable." The man shrugged. "Then again, so does the Heston. Granted, Las Vegas has been called 'Sin City,' but I tell you, my friend, that more sinning happens on this floor in any given year than happens in any casino across this country." Glancing through the crack in the door, he explained, "The Heston is a favorite for local politicians and international dignitaries who are looking for the same kind of release you enjoyed. Only the highest caliber escorts in the country do business on this floor, and, for that reason, security on Floor Seven is kept to a minimum. That way, no one gets alarmed that a wayward videotape might find its way into the hands of the doting trophy bride back home." He pointed at the hallway outside. "The stairwell cameras are of no concern. They have no microphones, and they're on fixed studs. The elevator camera is a different deal entirely. While it's in a fixed position, it has a wide angle lens. It's primary purpose, however, is to monitor that middle elevator shaft."
"Why the middle one?"
"Because, my friend, the middle shaft is the only one that extends beyond the lobby into the subterranean levels," Matthew said. "And that's precisely where we want to go."
DeMarco nodded.
"I managed to boobytrap the camera with a micro-electromagnetic pulse weapon I took off an Israeli intelligence officer I killed during my stay in Berlin," the American continued. "It's a grenade the size of a fingernail, a new form of biocircuitry the Israelis took off the British. Once the thing detonates, the camera's programming will be wiped clean, and security will dispatch a repairman. He'll come up from the first underground level, and, by my guesswork, it will take him two and one-half minutes – no more, no less – to arrive at this floor." He pointed at the elevator. "You and I must be inside that elevator's shaft before he arrives. According to the building schematics, there are construction conduits for building wiring there large enough to hold a man on each side. We stay in place while the technician reboots the camera. Once he's finished, we drop – as gentle as a feather – onto the top of the elevator, and we're heading in the direction you've always wanted to go."
Smiling, Demarco grinned. "Straight towards hell?"
"Not in a hand basket, but via elevator."
"That works for me, Matthew."
"Then you're ready?"
"I've been waiting for this moment."
"Let's get to it, Richard."
Matthew produced a small detonator from his pocket, and he pressed the red button. From where they stood, they heard a metallic click. DeMarco saw that the small red bulb on the rear of the elevator camera went out.
"Move."
They stepped into the hallway, walked to the elevator, and DeMarco produced a wedge from his knapsack. Slapping it to the crack, he shoved it in, wiggling it so that it would tap the safety bar, and, after a brief delay, the doors opened a bit. Stowing the wedge, he wrapped his fingers around one door's edging – Matthew taking the other – and they pulled in unison, opening the doors and loosing a gush of hot air that resided within the dark shaft.
"Stay clear of the car tow cables," Matthew suddenly warned. "Security has them tagged with a low-grade electric current to keep anyone from sliding down them."
DeMarco marveled, "These Americans are so clever."
"Not clever enough, my friend."
Squinting into the darkness, the terrorist saw the alcove on the right side of the shaft. It was wide enough for him, but, should he leap too far, he would miss a foothold and plummet through the opening and into the maw of the adjacent elevator shaft. Certainly, he would fall – seven stories – to his death. His movement would have to be precise.
The two of them heard the rumbling of the elevator car far below.
"There's our man," Matthew concluded.
"Then I will go first."
His arms extended, DeMarco leapt from the platform. He cut through the warm air, remaining calm. His hands found the metal girder first, wrapping around the edge and pulling himself forward. Easily, he found solid ground. He ducked his head, pulling it close to his chest, and he slipped into the gap. Glancing back the way he had come, he gave a quick 'thumbs up' to Matthew.
The American heard the slow but constant grind as the elevator rose up the shaft toward them. He guessed they were down to under one minute of the technician's arrival, and he knew he couldn't wait any longer. Reaching out, he jumped from the platform, his right arm flailing, and he found a steel tube that protected wiring that ran down the shaft. However, his foot missed the alcove, and he quickly dropped ... until his knee caught the steel edging, and he released a controlled gasp of pain. Pulling on the tube, he righted himself in the alcove, slipping past several additional conduits just as the elevator came into view.
On the platform, the doors closed, and the two men found themselves eclipsed by total darkness.
END of Chapter 09
Five Days, Twenty Hours, Forty-Nine Minutes
Quietly, DeMarco sat up in bed. He slid out from the covers easily, careful not to wake the sleeping beauty lying next to him. Planting his feet firmly on the floor, he felt around for his clothing, found it, and cautiously slipped into his socks, underwear, and slacks. From the bottom drawer of the nightstand table, he found the black fitted nylon shirt that Matthew had left for him ... along with the small knapsack. He stood, pulling the shirt over his head. Clipping the sack to his belt loop, he picked up his swipecard room key – technology never seemed to amaze him – and he left the room.
He walked down the hallway, glancing up slightly at the security camera monitoring his every movement ... but it was of little concern.
'Let them record me,' he thought. 'It will only intensify their grief once I have finished what I came here to do ... that I was here ... that I was recorded ... and yet no one lifted a finger to stop me.'
Reaching the stairwell, he turned the knob and stepped into the hollow. Matthew and Lisa, both dressed in black, stood waiting.
"I certainly hope you had fun," Lisa teased, her voice above a whisper.
Smiling, DeMarco replied, "One must do ... what one must do."
He passed his room key to her, and Lisa slipped it into her pocket.
"Let her sleep for an hour more," DeMarco said.
"And then?"
The man showed no expression when he ordered, "Do with her as you wish."
The American woman nodded. "How would you like me to kill her?"
DeMarco understood the fascination with taking another life. He had killed dozens, hundreds, if not thousands of innocents ... all for a variety of causes he served, noble or not. He understood what Lisa was thinking, and he found himself attracted to her more than before.
"Be creative ... but be quick. And, for God's sake, don't make a mess of it."
With an evil grin, Lisa disappeared down the stairwell.
"Let me explain the set-up for you, my friend," Matthew offered. Reaching out, he cracked open the stairwell door far enough for the two of them to glance out into the hallway. "When you walked down the hallway, you undoubtedly noticed the surveillance camera. The Heston is loaded with them, ten to a floor ... except for the seventh floor. It has only three. Two of them are trained in the direction of the opposite stairwells, and the third one is trained on the middle of the three elevators."
"Why so few on this floor?"
Matthew smiled. "Did you honestly think I was going to have one my closest and dearest friends in the world come all the way to Washington, D.C., and that I wouldn't get you the best suite available?"
"You are too kind."
"Let's agree that I know a thing or two of being hospitable." The man shrugged. "Then again, so does the Heston. Granted, Las Vegas has been called 'Sin City,' but I tell you, my friend, that more sinning happens on this floor in any given year than happens in any casino across this country." Glancing through the crack in the door, he explained, "The Heston is a favorite for local politicians and international dignitaries who are looking for the same kind of release you enjoyed. Only the highest caliber escorts in the country do business on this floor, and, for that reason, security on Floor Seven is kept to a minimum. That way, no one gets alarmed that a wayward videotape might find its way into the hands of the doting trophy bride back home." He pointed at the hallway outside. "The stairwell cameras are of no concern. They have no microphones, and they're on fixed studs. The elevator camera is a different deal entirely. While it's in a fixed position, it has a wide angle lens. It's primary purpose, however, is to monitor that middle elevator shaft."
"Why the middle one?"
"Because, my friend, the middle shaft is the only one that extends beyond the lobby into the subterranean levels," Matthew said. "And that's precisely where we want to go."
DeMarco nodded.
"I managed to boobytrap the camera with a micro-electromagnetic pulse weapon I took off an Israeli intelligence officer I killed during my stay in Berlin," the American continued. "It's a grenade the size of a fingernail, a new form of biocircuitry the Israelis took off the British. Once the thing detonates, the camera's programming will be wiped clean, and security will dispatch a repairman. He'll come up from the first underground level, and, by my guesswork, it will take him two and one-half minutes – no more, no less – to arrive at this floor." He pointed at the elevator. "You and I must be inside that elevator's shaft before he arrives. According to the building schematics, there are construction conduits for building wiring there large enough to hold a man on each side. We stay in place while the technician reboots the camera. Once he's finished, we drop – as gentle as a feather – onto the top of the elevator, and we're heading in the direction you've always wanted to go."
Smiling, Demarco grinned. "Straight towards hell?"
"Not in a hand basket, but via elevator."
"That works for me, Matthew."
"Then you're ready?"
"I've been waiting for this moment."
"Let's get to it, Richard."
Matthew produced a small detonator from his pocket, and he pressed the red button. From where they stood, they heard a metallic click. DeMarco saw that the small red bulb on the rear of the elevator camera went out.
"Move."
They stepped into the hallway, walked to the elevator, and DeMarco produced a wedge from his knapsack. Slapping it to the crack, he shoved it in, wiggling it so that it would tap the safety bar, and, after a brief delay, the doors opened a bit. Stowing the wedge, he wrapped his fingers around one door's edging – Matthew taking the other – and they pulled in unison, opening the doors and loosing a gush of hot air that resided within the dark shaft.
"Stay clear of the car tow cables," Matthew suddenly warned. "Security has them tagged with a low-grade electric current to keep anyone from sliding down them."
DeMarco marveled, "These Americans are so clever."
"Not clever enough, my friend."
Squinting into the darkness, the terrorist saw the alcove on the right side of the shaft. It was wide enough for him, but, should he leap too far, he would miss a foothold and plummet through the opening and into the maw of the adjacent elevator shaft. Certainly, he would fall – seven stories – to his death. His movement would have to be precise.
The two of them heard the rumbling of the elevator car far below.
"There's our man," Matthew concluded.
"Then I will go first."
His arms extended, DeMarco leapt from the platform. He cut through the warm air, remaining calm. His hands found the metal girder first, wrapping around the edge and pulling himself forward. Easily, he found solid ground. He ducked his head, pulling it close to his chest, and he slipped into the gap. Glancing back the way he had come, he gave a quick 'thumbs up' to Matthew.
The American heard the slow but constant grind as the elevator rose up the shaft toward them. He guessed they were down to under one minute of the technician's arrival, and he knew he couldn't wait any longer. Reaching out, he jumped from the platform, his right arm flailing, and he found a steel tube that protected wiring that ran down the shaft. However, his foot missed the alcove, and he quickly dropped ... until his knee caught the steel edging, and he released a controlled gasp of pain. Pulling on the tube, he righted himself in the alcove, slipping past several additional conduits just as the elevator came into view.
On the platform, the doors closed, and the two men found themselves eclipsed by total darkness.
END of Chapter 09
