James Moore left work at 4AM, as usual. The foyer of the building was completely empty. Even the guard station was unmanned. This was not exactly common, but not that unusual either. He pushed the interior glass door open then waited for the click of the exterior door locks to open. Then he shoved his way through the tall glass exterior door.
June was supposed to be a hot month, but all the months seemed the same to James. He went to the office after the sun went down and the heat of the day had dissipated, and he went home before the sun had a chance to return. At home, his curtains were thick and heavy, and always shut. James didn’t follow deadlines, schedules, or events outside of himself, so the passing of seasons meant nothing to him. Living in central California meant that he didn’t even have snow to demarcate the passing of time.
There were only three cars in the parking lot. The night guard’s F150 had the best spot, because he got there when everyone else had left. James’ Camry was a couple hundred feet out, because he never cared where he parked. Between them was a burgundy 2021 Mercedes Benz convertible with its hood up. A voluptuous woman in a matching mini-skirt dress was looking under the hood, bent at the waist, with her hands clasped at her breast.
James didn’t stop. Once he saw her, he adjusted his path just enough to avoid her without looking like he was avoiding her. He had worked for the government before, and worked against it. In both jobs, they had a word for situations like this. Honeypot.
She saw him, of course, and called out, “Hey, can you help me out? I don’t know a thing about cars.”
James still didn’t stop. “Sorry, ma’am. I don’t either. You should call triple-A or something.” It was actually kinda insulting. The work he did was innocuous enough, but he did that work in a top secret secure facility. This setup was so ludicrous that he figured there were only two possible explanations. Either she was sent by some foreign nation hoping to get blackmail on a fed hacker, or she was sent by his boss to see if he was safe to trust. He’d never heard of that kind of test before, but it wasn’t impossible.
He’s not buying it. Shit. I knew the heels were too much.
On the plus side, he thought, if this was the upper brass trying to test him, then he probably passed with flying colors. He wanted to look up at one of the security cameras and give them some kind of thumbs-up or something, but that would be juvenile.
She called out again, “My phone is dead, and I couldn’t get inside to ask for help. Could I borrow yours?”
He was passing her now, still trying to passively avoid getting too close. As he looked up again at her, he saw her arms pressing into her chest, accentuating her cleavage. He shook his head again and held out his arms. “I don’t carry my phone to work. They’ve got rules. Sorry.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m practically throwing myself at him. What is he, gay? Ah, I hope he’s not gay. That would be weird.
James saw a figure in the distance, running toward them on the sidewalk next to the parking lot. He could see a dark t-shirt stretched over a muscled torso, with black shorts, and a fanny-pack with a reflective belt. Midnight jogger, from the look of it.
She took a step closer to him, “Well, maybe I can just talk to you for a minute.”
James had the sudden feeling that this was bigger than he thought. A shock inspiration borne of years of paranoia suddenly gripped him. His greatest asset had always been his brain, his ability to assess situations and see them in the most stripped-down, bare form possible.
Suddenly, his mind calmed and focused on a few salient points. There were three contacts here. James, the Honeypot, and the Jogger. He was almost equidistant between them. There were security cameras all around, but that wouldn’t stop someone from grabbing him and throwing him into an unmarked van before security could get here. He didn’t see any van, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. He couldn’t get to his car and open it before they caught up with him. The jogger was studiously not looking at him.
Aw, crap. He’s on to me. I never should have worn the heels. I can’t run in these. And I started jogging way too late. He’s going to run now. Call yourself a strategic genius? Stupid! Stupid!
James turned back toward the building and ran. The woman kicked off her shoes and started running after him, but he had enough of a lead on her to dodge. The jogger had kicked into high gear, and was closing on him fast.
James knew he would never be able to swipe his card in time to unlock the front doors and get back into the office, so he ran around to the side of the building. The building was a tall glass structure standing alone in a grassy cul-de-sac, but he knew there was a gas station about a block away. If he could make it there, he had a better chance of getting seen.
Okay, that works. Here we go. He’s not going back into the building. I got him.
The side of the building was darker than the parking lot, blocking the streetlights. He couldn’t really see the sidewalk underneath him, but he kept running, knowing it was there. Just past the building, where the light came in again, he could see the sidewalk and in the distance, the cross street with the corner gas station.
James didn’t run, as a general rule. Running was low on the list of exercises that he meant to take up, if he ever decided to get exercise. Nonetheless, he could hear the others behind him, and knew he was outdistancing them. He didn’t dare to turn and look. He just hoped that his lead time was enough.
He could hear the footfalls behind him, but that was all. They didn’t call out any threats or offers. They didn’t even seem to be exerting themselves. He was breathing harder than they were. It’s like . . .
Gotcha. Oh, yeah. Who’s the strategist now? Always have a backup plan. God, I’m good.
James realized too late, as a figure stepped out from the shadows around the building. They weren’t chasing him. They were corralling him.
The figure in front was huge and slow, but he didn’t need to be fast. James was running straight at him. He tried to stop, but he was even worse at stopping than he was at running. He toppled and rolled once on the grass by the sidewalk, trying to avoid them. The large man pinned his arms to his sides and picked him up in one swift movement. James tried to wriggle away, but he had no leverage. As the others caught up with them, the large man spoke.
“Now, come on. Don’t be like this. We’re friends here.” Despite his giant frame, the words sounded like they came from a small man. There was a petulance behind them, a kind of whine to it that James would not have associated with such a large man. His eyes squinted as he found his voice.
“Bo? Is that you?”
The giant’s face split in a grin, “Yeah! See! I knew you were smart. You and I are going to have a great time working together.”
James relaxed, feeling his fear melt away to anger, “Goddamn, it Bo. Let go of me. I’m not going to join your stupid little cult.”
The giant grin disappeared, but he loosened his grip, “It’s not a fucking cult, Jim. A cult is a bunch of people who take stupid orders from some old, bald guy. I don’t take orders from anybody. What I’m talking about is bigger than that. Real connection. A true melding of-”
James pushed at the giant’s chest, trying to shrug him off, “Get off me. I’ve heard your spiel, and I ain’t buying what you’re selling. K? So just f-”
The giant turned James to face the other two. The jogger had opened his fanny pack and removed a hypodermic needle, “Sorry, but I don’t have time to argue with you. This is gonna happen whether you want it or not.”
James was picked up again in a bear hug, one arm trapped by his side, the other one flailing. The woman grabbed his arm easily and held it still while she shoved his sleeve up his arm. James shouted, “What the fuck! You don’t have to do this!”
The jogger said, “Hold still, or it’ll hurt more.”
James still struggled, one huge hand covering his mouth. Then his struggling slowed. Only then did the van show up to pick them up.
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