Authors: Kurt Bartling
T
heir
possessions
scanned and checked
,
one of the
guard
s
escorts
all three
to a private elevator.
S
wiping a key fob
in front of a keypad,
a
nd touching the top floor butto
n
, t
he
doors close and
the
elevator
ascends
without
stopping.
Stepping
out
,
they find t
hemselves in an expansive lobby
where excess and pretense
exist
in abundance. A crystal chandelier hangs from a
massive domed skylight
at
the center of the room. Tacky leather couches and abstract composite furniture sparsely populate the stark whi
t
e interior
,
looking more something to consider, then utilize
. The room feels like standing on a white canvas with random
splashes
of bright paint thrown randomly at
upon
surface
.
Whitemire’s
associate
, familiar with the odd room, moves directly to
the
waiting
receptionist.
An artificially augmented woman
of indistinguishable age surveys the party, exhibiting a look of superiority and insolence.
I
n a patronizing tone
,
s
he tells them
to take a seat,
as someone will be out shortly to meet them
.
The wait exceeds
fifteen minutes
.
L
eaning impatiently against a far wall,
Rena
finds
the
rudimentary
display of self-importance
, humorous
.
She
knows
the only
visitors
today will be them.
The program
Anderson
created,
so important to these
people
,
they’re
probably
‘
p
iss
ing their pan
ts
’
waiting for the access codes.
She’s
counting on
the
client’s
excitement to distract their better judgment
.
S
eated in one of the odd, abstract chairs,
Meg
waits
quietly
, looking
tentative and nervous
.
Discreetly smiling
, proud of Meg’s immersion in to the character,
Rena fully estimates,
at this moment, this mousy girl is the second deadliest person in this building, regardless of who’s inside these offices
.
A
n
arrogant
,
well-
dressed,
portly
man
,
with an unusually full head of white hair
,
enters the lobby. Without saying a word,
he
directs them to a large conference room with a
n
breathtaking
view of Indianapolis.
Rena, Meg and the associate take seats on the window side of the
conference table
, all
owing them to
monitor
the door and
those
e
ntering
,
assess
ing
their threat level.
Six men and
a
single woman
enter the room and sit down.
The female, over-projecting an air of arrogance,
Rena
immediately
recognizes
a
s
their infiltration expert. M
ost likely
a contractor, s
he
oversold herself,
a good
I
nfiltrator
would’ve
been less obvious. All
the men
, save one, are older and out of shape.
Appearing out of
place
and far to
o
bored by the goings
on, especially
considerin
g the significance of the program
, the
large
fit gentleman does not belong in this
contingent
. Rena looks a
t
Meg, smiles and glances
at the man,
identifying him as
the
Dispatch
.
After a brief moment to get everyone in the room, one of the older, out of shape
men start
s
introducing everyone.
“Don’t waste our time!
I don’t want to k
now who you are and I certainly
don’
t want you
to
know who the
fuck
I am.” Rena scoff
s
, surprising the associate. Meg
offers
no reaction.
The
I
nfiltrator, obviously trying to earn her pay, replies in kind. “Then who
the hell
’
s the waif?”
“We’ll let me see, can’t you tell … s
he’s my bodyguard.” Rena
replies
, her sarcastic tone icy
.
The room erupts in laughter, even Meg smiles
s
lightly.
“Listen
,
you changed the
terms of the contract,
requiring
me here in person. Well, here
I
am.
L
et’s get this done. Get me a
remote
portal to the program
… now!
” Rena
’s
demands met with mild surprise.
R
ealizing
they thought she’
d just hand over the instructions,
she
volleys
, her delivery
derisive
.
“Listen
,
the code
s
need to be imbedded. Did you think I was just going to ha
ve the program ask for them
when you log
ged
in?
Jesus, you do realize what this program does, don’t you?”
Everyone on the room fixes their
gaze on her, expectantly.
Rena pauses,
understanding this
moment sells the immersion.
“Christ!
It’s a self-replicating
worm that infiltrates all secure and unsecure data registers, looking for any information related to
positive value account reserves
. The program will forc
e liquidate all accounts, stock
piling the transaction
s
,
then
perform a mass push transfer to
designated receptacle accounts.
After v
erify
ing
transfer success,
the virus will
wipe all history and traceability of the transactions inte
rnally and externally,
rewriting
all
vacated
registers
with
replicat
ed
junk data,
effectively
destroying the bank infrastructure and making reconstruction impossible.”
Both Meg and the associate turn and look at Rena, doing their best not
to
look completely
shocked, no
t that the clients would notice
over their
collective excitement
. Only the infiltrator
appears
somewhat
composed, though
she’s
showing
only
mi
l
d signs of
comprehension
. Rena suspects
the contactor was not aware
of the details of the project, h
er grasp of the program
just
start
ing
to sink in
,
distracting her. The big guy, the dispatch, as expected
,
has got no clue
what’s
going on.
After a few short minutes, a portable access terminal
arrives
.
Moving
it to
the
far end
of
the table
, furthest from the door,
Rena
invit
es
everyone to
gather
behind her to observe
the demonstration
.
Standing along the wall behind the Dispatch,
Meg
stays back out of the way,
giv
ing
the
assembly ample room to watch
.
R
ena r
emov
es her jacket and
leans over in front of the monitor
.
I
n her formfitting red tank and flattering slacks,
she effectively distracts
all of the men in the room.
Positioning
her portable
next to t
he terminal,
s
he pushes the pow
er butt
on … nothing happens.
T
ryin
g again with the same results,
s
he stands straight up, looking confused
.
W
ithout warning,
in one fluid motion
,
Rena
pulls the spike from the catch in the back of her hair and drives it straight into the
temple of the
I
nfiltrator.
The act so quick, and effective,
the woman
falls to the floor
, dead
, w
i
thout realizing what had happened
.
As soon as Rena
moved to
pull the spike from her hair,
Meg
grasped the bead
on her bangle and pulls. A
length of super-
thin braid
ed
wire
comprised
of carbon fiber and titanium
uncoils from the hollow of the circlet
. U
s
ing
it
as a garrote
,
she
wra
p
s
the wire around
the D
ispatch
’s
neck, slicing his throat
, killing him instantly
.
Their actions
,
so fast
and coordinated
,
th
e rest of the group react
in slow motion,
watching the
Infiltrator
and the
Dispatch
both crumble to the floor
.
R
eaching under her portable compute
r
, Rena
retrieves
a pair
knives
concealed within
,
and then
slic
es
the throats of tw
o men standing next to her
. K
icking a third in the knee
, h
e falls
toward Meg, who quickly dispatches him with
the
garrote as well
.
One of the two remaining
bankers
bolts for t
he
exit
.
Meg releases her belt;
t
he long delicate semi-rigid braid
fall
s
lo
o
se t
o the floor.
U
sing it like a whip, the nearly unbreakable titanium chain wrap
s
around his neck before he can reach the door.
Leaving a short slack in the length,
braced
against the table,
Meg gives
a
swift
hard jerk.
T
he thin chain
constricts, crushing
his windpipe
. At the same time, he’s wrenched
from
his feet
and falls backward.
H
is head
strikes
the edge of the table,
snapping
his neck
.