Coffee (9 page)



Etty
had no reason to stay in the cell. Her chances for escape were zero
from the locked room, and a hot shower sounded good. She lingered
while retrieving her things, only to spite Bart who had to wait
patiently on the other side of the door.

She
finally knocked, and Bart’s bulging face appeared in the
opening, wearing a stupid grin. “Escort, at your service,
Ma’am.” She didn’t say what was on her mind.

They
walked down a long white hallway, past door after door with small
signs.
Electron Microscope; Agricultural Research Library;
Nanotechnology
. Some doors had a brightly colored warning sign,
8+
RESTRICTED
.

Etty
finally asked. “I thought you were a finance company.”

“We
have one of the biggest Botany and Molecular Biology research
centers in the world. Business related work, mostly agriculture.
How to make things grow better, without disease, that kind of
stuff.”

“But
you only found work where they needed brawn, not brains.”

Bart
squeezed her arm until she cried out. “You learn fast.”

Soon
they passed a security gate, and entered a large Rotunda area. Etty
could hardly believe the size, considering this was an employee
common area. It was like walking into a shopping mall. Hundreds of
people wandered throughout, coming in and out of stores around the
perimeter, or stopping at the sellers carts in the center. The
domed ceiling reached at least 100 feet above them. Light shined
through a profusion of thin windows, artistically arranged to look
like an explosion of light arising from the zenith. White polished
marble covered the floors and walls, accentuated by a parade of
large columns around the edge of the circular room. Restaurants,
Men’s and Women’s apparel, Sporting Goods, Gift Shops.

“This
is all Global Growers?” Etty asked honestly amazed.

“Sure
is. Well, and the Hospital staff shops here too, who are
technically separate.”

“I
can’t believe I hadn’t heard of this company.”

“We’re
privately owned. No stock, no public records. But believe me,
we’ve touched your life. Mr. McKinsey can tell you a lot more
than I can.”

“I
don’t need anyone to tell me how you’ve touched my
life.”

They
came to another entrance. Etty realized there were four such
entryways into the Rotunda, evenly spaced. Three had security guard
stations, but this one opened freely into a wide hotel-like lobby.
They traversed an ornate gathering place, filled with plants and
soft chairs around small cocktail tables. To her left, the high
glass doors and windows allowed a view across a pleasant internal
courtyard. An outdoor pool was surrounded with lounge chairs and
colorful umbrellas. In the distance, she could see the nets of at
least five tennis courts, and what looked like a running track. To
her right, signs indicated they had a health spa, an indoor pool,
and racquetball courts.

Happy
smiling faces crisscrossed the room. ‘If they only knew I was
a hostage! They wouldn’t be so happy,’ she thought. She
wanted to grab someone and tell them, or just start screaming wildly
for help. But then an even more horrible thought occurred to her -
maybe they all knew. Maybe she was surrounded by thousands of evil
workers, all in on the dastardly schemes of their employers. But
she saw married couples, children, teenagers. They seemed so
normal. This looked like any Saturday morning in a busy condo. A
busy
rich
condo, she thought.

Her
apartment was on the 4th floor, about half way down the main
hallway. Bart opened the door, and pocketed the key. He offered to
hold it open for her so she could pass, but Etty simply waited until
he let go before she entered.

“Nice,
huh?” Bart said with open arms and upturned hands, as if it
were all from him. Etty refused to acknowledge. Her upbringing in
Nashua never afforded her more than a low to middle class existence,
and life as a scholarship student bordered on poverty. Under
different circumstances, she might have been quite impressed.

The
apartment had five full rooms, as many as her parent’s entire
home. Looking across the livingroom, she could see the Dallas
skyline through the row of tall windows. Two large bedrooms entered
from the right, and an open entry led to the spacious kitchen to the
left. Furniture filled every room - comfortable couches, a blond
maple dining room set in a nook, and a gorgeous four poster bed in
her master bedroom. “Nice and bright,” she finally
admitted.

“Well,
I gotta run. Remember to call Mr. McKinsey when you’re ready
for a meeting. He’ll probably call for me, since I somehow
have the honor of being your private valet.”

Bart
opened the door and exited, but before closing he called back,
“Etty, I hope you understand, I am locking this from the
outside. Security reasons.”

“What
if there’s a fire?” she yelled at him.

“There
won’t be,” and shut the door.

- Chapter Seven -

Etty
walked out on the balcony to catch some of the balmy air. Winter
had hit Hanover in force, so the Spring like sun and flowery aromas
pleased her. Below, she could hear children horseplaying by the
pool - incongruous with her prison setting.

She
found the shower, but changed her mind seeing the huge bath equipped
with water jets. While hot water filled the tub, steam condensed on
all the windows. She plopped down on the large bed to wait, sinking
deeply into the down comforter. She wanted to hate everything, but
couldn’t resist a moment of relative peace.

Then
she remembered they had a phone. She rolled over found it on the
shelf of the night stand. She quickly dialed Knut. An electronic
operator requested her security code, and then advised her that no
outside calls could be made without one. Although not surprised,
she still slammed the phone down.

Soon
the bath was full. Still afraid of viewing devices, she took
special care not to expose herself. She undressed with a large
cotton bathrobe draped over her shoulders. She poured in bubble soap
and whipped it up with the jets to build a head of suds. She quickly
slipped in, leaving the bathrobe on the edge of the tub.



Nearly
an hour later, somewhat calmed, she decided to face McKinsey. Her
fingers had so many wrinkles from the bath water, she could hardly
make a fist. She hid herself getting out of the tub and dressed
under the bathrobe. She dried her long black hair with a wall
mounted hair dryer. She wore her one business outfit - a dark blue
skirt and jacket with a simple white blouse. Jagged crease lines
crumpled the suit, but she didn’t bother searching for an
iron. They had taken her heels and other shoes, so she wore only
nylon hose on her feet.

She
stared at herself, eye to eye, in the mirror. She was trapped in
some kind of strange unreal world. Nothing matched - killer thugs
yet posh surroundings, a happy planned community harboring deadly
secrets, a doctoral dissertation turned into a living nightmare.
She had no plan, no way out. She had no allies. She could trust no
one. She wanted to cry, to jump into the big bed and sob
uncontrollably. But she knew her only rational alternative was to
go with them, talk to them, try to remain strong. Somehow, there
must be a way out, and escape seemed to be her only salvation.

She
picked up the phone and dialed McKinsey’s extension. A
receptionist patched her through. “Miss Bishop? Wonderful,
you’re ready. I’m tellin’ you, brace yourself for
being impressed. You’ll see. I’ll have Mr. Maslow come
by immediately to escort you to my office.”

Etty
hung up without saying a word. She wondered how she could have a
professional conversation with the individual who orchestrated this
whole diabolical scheme. The idea disgusted her.

Bart
soon arrived, continuing his ruse as the friendly little helper.
His forced puckered smile clashed with his bulky face. “Hi
Etty! It’s time to start your first day on the job.”

“Job?
This is a job? So you use kidnapping as a form of recruitment?”
she asked, wanting to claw his face.

Bart
had no good answer so he changed the subject. “Anything you
want me to carry for you?” he said as he opened the door and
gestured for her to pass.

Etty
sneered, and then asked, “What I really need are some shoes.
This is ridiculous, a business suit and no shoes.”

Bart
looked down, agreeing with a nod. “I’m not sure where
they ended up. Let’s meet with McKinsey first, and then I’ll
take you down to get some new ones.” They walked to the
elevator, returned to the spacious lobby, and entered the great
domed Rotunda. They turned right, and approached one of the
security stations.

Based
on the sign below the guard’s high-tech console, she was now
entering “World Investment Corporation.”

“And
to think I believed you were the Securities and Exchange
Commission.” Bart didn’t respond. The guard gave her a
visitor’s pass to clip to her blouse. They entered another
set of hallways, but with completely different decor from her prison
area or the apartments. A beautiful dark wood paneled the walls.
Doors leading off the main hallway looked thick and heavy. Ornate
moldings traced along the top of the corridor. They passed a perky
receptionist, poised behind a rounded front desk of solid glass.
Bart nodded slightly and the two continued to an elevator lobby.

While
they waited, Etty asked, “So who is Mr. McKinsey?”

“President.
He’s one of the biggest guys around. There are only two
Division Presidents, and he runs WIC - a big money maker.”

“I
can understand how he got to the top. I bet he left a few bodies
along the way.” Bart swung around to see if others had heard
her comment. The elevator arrived and opened. A few well-dressed
business types exited, and two men entered. After pushing six, the
top floor, Bart looked hard at Etty. He passed his finger back and
forth in front of his tight lips.

Mr.
McKinsey’s office occupied the south west corner of the top
floor. The opulent modern decor startled Etty, a stark contrast to
the more staid dark wood style of the business lobby. Bronze
sculptures, white and green marble floors, multi-million dollar oil
paintings by names such as Warhol, Hundertwasser, and Lichtenstein,
blown glass lighting fixtures by Dale Chihuly. The collection of
furniture could serve as a museum gallery of contemporary European
and American works. None of the walls met at right angles, creating
interesting nooks. One end of the office showcased a highly
accurate scale model of the entire complex, complete with shrubs,
paths, roads, and tiny people. Etty was drawn toward it, interested
in the arrangement of this eclectic prison.

McKinsey
stepped behind her. “Quite a layout, yes?”

Etty
didn’t turn around, focusing at the model. “Yes, it is
absolutely amazing. It astounds me that a company with such wealth,
such apparent wherewithal, can use astonishingly deranged methods.
What do you expect to gain by abducting me?”

“We
are a service company, Miss Bishop, first and foremost. We do
whatever it takes to please our customers. The very same wealth you
describe has been painstakingly earned, penny by penny, year after
year, project after project.”

“How
poetic.”

“You
might think we are just a band of simple thieves. After going
through what you have, I guess I wouldn’t blame you. I had
planned to use the SEC ruse only to get you down here, and talk
straight forward about opportunities. I learned two things from our
initial phone conversation. First, that you weren’t going to
be easily convinced. Second, that you are perfect - I had to have
you as part of our team. I do extreme things when I want something
that badly. I hope we can get over this awkward beginning and start
a new relationship.”

“I
don’t think so.”

“Besides
a few extraordinary exceptions, Global Growers is engaged in only
legitimate enterprises.” McKinsey swept his hand through the
air.

Etty
huffed.

“Much
of the food around the world has been fertilized or grown under the
influence of our chemicals. Our disease control research has
virtually eliminated all the great crop killers of the past. Recent
growth of the world’s food supply is significantly a result of
our effort - at rates unimaginable only a decade ago.”

Etty
studied the intricate features of the model while she thought. Tiny
windows, little pathways of brick, the designs of glass on top of
the Rotunda. McKinsey continued. “Here in the South Wing we
have WIC, the company’s Investment group. Our original mission
was to manage the investment funds of our Agriculture division.
With small subsidiaries popping up all over the world, our group
expanded to handle foreign money, for paying salaries and vendors.
We started speculating in foreign currencies, and amassed a fortune.
We know more about a country’s stability than anyone in the
world, because we are out in the fields with the farmers, watching
their crops, seeing the impact of weather. In the third world,
currency follows economy, and economy follows food production.”