Presidential Cleaning: A Psychological Suspense Novel (9 page)

‘Open the gates,’ Alexander’s voice came loud and clear.

We were granted entry which could be a good thing, a bad thing or a bit of both. Alexander didn’t approach us. Instead, he stood by the gate as our car travelled through the large open space in the center, closing it once the vehicle was fully through. Over a bump and then on a smooth path we went. Tony followed the hand gestures of another guard, right to a parking lot behind the building. The structure was even larger than I remembered it to be. From the outside, it looked like your typical warehouse- large, bulky and cold. However, behind the sturdy cement walls were more pain than anyone could ever imagine.

‘Get out,’ barked a large guy who stood in front of three even larger men.

We did as we were told, looking at each other perhaps for some form of reassurance that everything would be just fine. My feet were firmly planted on the pavement. There was no time for fear; or at least, no room to allow my legs to start wobbling and my nervousness to get the best of me. Sure, the way it felt being looked up and down by the guard whose mug resembled a pitbull ready to attack wasn’t great, but I held my breath and allowed him to investigate my face and check my body for any weapons. He pulled out my gun, swiveled it around in his hand before placing it on the hood of the car and looking at me disapprovingly. I shrugged my shoulders, unable to find a better reaction. The other guards carried out the same actions on Jones, Tony and Adam. Looking at them, they didn’t seem as uneasy as I felt.

‘Good,’ said the smallest of the guards- the one who examined me- to his colleagues.

‘All good,’ the other guards replied in unison.

One of the guards reached for his radio, pulled it out and spoke a series of numbers. Tony, Adam, Jones and I were lined up beside each other, looking around and wondering what would happen next. It was hard to determine whether we were on the naughty list or whether our actions would be forgiven. The guys didn’t necessarily handle us as harshly as I’d expect them to handle someone they considered an enemy. However, the looks on their faces weren’t those reserved for friends. They were stern, pissed off looks that made it seems as though they hated the world and everything in it. Our destiny had been decided.

Chapter 12

I kept peeking over my shoulder, in hopes of sighting a familiar face; one that would assure me that things wouldn’t be as bad as they could. A short while later, I heard footsteps coming from behind us and Alexander’s face popped around the corner.

‘Alexander,’ I called out, keeping my eyes on the guards and waiting to be scolded for breaking the silence.

Alexander walked right past the guards and made his way to me. ‘I’ve got to talk to you,’ he said.

I felt the blood in my body turn cold as I anticipated a fate that would, by no means, work in my favor.

‘Is it bad?’ I searched his face for some kind of sign. The blankness of his expression was impossible to read.

‘All I can say,’ he whispered, ‘is that the president is setting up rooms for you guys. In a minute, you’ll be taken into the building. Say the right thing and you might be okay. Say the wrong thing and… well, you know how the story ends.’

‘But the guys in the trunk,’ I said quietly.

‘They’ll be taken care of.’

‘So, you really have no idea what’s going to happen to us?’

‘I really know that I can’t divulge any information to you. It’s not my place to say.’

‘For an old friend?’ I pleaded.

‘Joe. You know how this works. Let’s head back over to the others. If they see me talking to you for too long, they’re gonna get suspicious.’

‘Alright,’ I nodded, not feeling any more hopeful about the situation than I did before.

Even if things didn’t end in my favor, I’d find some satisfaction in knowing that Peterman and Shaw would get what they deserved and that my Lila, was no longer in the hands of the foe.

‘Take ‘em in,’ Alexander said to the guards before stepping away and heading back in the direction of the front gate.

I didn’t resist my arms being yanked behind my back and my hands being handcuffed.

‘Fuck. You think my wrists are the size of a fucking twelve years old’s?’ Adam exclaimed.

I looked over to see that he had a smile on his face. A mischievous smile. ‘Thanks. That’s a lot more humane,’ he said as the guard allowed some room to be created between his wrists and the cold metal of the cuffs. This was just the beginning of Adam’s rant. His love for talking and striking up conversation during the worst times, meant that his mouth didn’t get a break. ‘I was so much like y’all,’ he laughed, ‘except tougher. A lot tougher. But I guess that what happens when you’re out doing real work rather than manning gates.’

‘Adam,’ I jumped in. ‘Just stop.’

‘Hey. If they’re gonna chop off my head, I think I should get all the talking done now. We’re not chicken’s you know. We don’t keep cackling on once our heads are detached from our bodies.’

‘They’re not going to chop off our heads,’ I said quietly, uncertain if this was true or not.

‘Well. Whatever it is they’re going to do. By the looks of it, we’re not exactly on friendly terms.’

I didn’t reply to Adam. He was right. Friendliness was not their strong suit. I kept my head straight and observed my surroundings as I was escorted down the corridor with the guard’s hand tightly wrapped around my arm. There was no life in the area of the building we were walking through. The concrete walls were unpainted. The empty jail cell looking rooms were fitted with one-way mirrors. I wondered why we were walking for so long. Surely, any of the rooms would have been good enough for whatever it was they wanted to do with us. Deeper and deeper down the corridor we went, until we came to a region that had large steel doors instead of one way mirrors. Adam was the first to be tossed inside one of the rooms and then it was my turn.

‘Sit,’ commanded the guard.

I followed his orders, kept my mouth shut and assumed an uncomfortable position at the corner of a metal chair. The guard left the room and slammed the door shut behind him. There was no telling what was going to happen to us. In all my years of coming in and out of this building, I’d never been down this corridor. This wasn’t one that was used back in my days- or maybe it just didn’t exist back then.

With no one being able to look in from the outside, I could only imagine the horrible things that went on inside cells like the one I’d landed myself in. Surely, this wasn’t some form of prison as there was no toilet- not even a bucket to be emptied out once our bodies decided to put our rear ends in use. Rather than a bed sitting in the corner of the room, there was just a blank space of nothingness. Closer to the door, there was another metal chair which made me think that it wasn’t unusual for two people to be placed in the room at the same time. Except this wasn’t the case with Adam, Jones, Tony and me. I stood and walked around the room, looking for traces of brains, flesh or blood- there was nothing. The president did have a pretty classic cleaning crew, but even they wouldn’t be able to get the stains out of rough concrete work. Maybe this room wasn’t what I thought it was. They wouldn’t kill us here.

‘Joe Chandler,’ came an awfully familiar voice.

My head jerked up as I contemplated what to do next. Usually, when the president arrived in a room, a hand would be extended but with my hands cuffed behind my back, this was impossible.

‘Mr. President,’ I nodded.

He hadn’t changed much, except for his grey hair being a bit thinner and the lines around his eyes and mouth being deeper.

‘Joe Chandler,’ he repeated, pursing his lips together and nodding his head as though agreeing with a thought that had popped into it. His green eyes didn’t blink. Instead, they stayed focused on mine, piercing through them in ways I never thought possible.

Back then, when I worked for this man, he was the only fear I knew. And as I stood in the room, trying hard not to blink while he glared at me, I felt that same fear resurface.

Chapter 13

‘You stole Derrick Shaw,’ the president said calmly but enforcing- his mouth barely moving.

I waited for him to continue but he just stared at me with those emerald green eyes.

‘You stole Derrick Shaw?’ he repeated. Now in a manner that sounded more like a question.

I answered. ‘Yes sir.’

‘You stole Derrick Shaw,’ he said a third time.

‘I brought him back sir.’

The empathy I searched for in his eyes were nowhere to be found. ‘You know what happens to men like you; men who betray the leader of the country.’

‘Yes sir,’ I replied, trying hard to stabilize my emotions; my need to tell him just why this had to be done.

‘Of course you know what happens to men like you. For years, you were the one issuing the punishment. So, I’m going to ask you, what do you think I should do? What do you think would be the right course of action to take?’

‘Sir. I had no intentions of keeping Shaw to myself. The plan was to bring him right back here. As I did.’

‘You tampered with matters that had nothing to do with you. You involved yourself in dealings that have embarrassed me in front of my peers; in front of
powerful
men,’ his voice grew louder with each word he spoke.

‘I understand Sir.’

‘Then explain yourself.’

‘Sir…’ I paused for a moment, collecting my thoughts. I knew that if I were to be taken seriously- if I needed him to truly understand- there was no room for stuttering. There was only room for confidence. ‘Derrick Shaw wasn’t the guy we had been looking for. He wasn’t the one in charge. Harry Peterman stole my wife and insisted that the only way I would get her back was to bring him Derrick Shaw. He’d done this same thing before… to Jones. Except he blew Jones’ fiancé to bits. I couldn’t have that happen but I also couldn’t betray you so I brought you the man you wanted and I brought you the man you should want even more.’

‘This Harry Peterman. Who is he exactly?’

‘Derrick Shaw’s brother. The real leader of Gamma.’

‘But Derrick Shaw doesn’t have a brother.’

‘He does, Sir, and he’s squished in the back of my trunk, waiting for you to hand him what he deserves. To date, he’s the best contestant you’ve had for the Presidential Cleaning.’

‘How do I know what you say is true?’

‘All the documents you need to prove the validity of my claims are in the car.’

‘We’ve read them.’

‘So you know that I’m telling the truth.’

The president nodded.

‘And what about you, Joe Chandler?’ He said calmly.

‘What about me, Sir?’ I knew exactly what he was asking. I knew what he was suggesting and maybe what he already had planned. But I wanted him to say it. If he was going to put me on the stage that has only seen the victims of the Presidential Cleaning, I needed him to say the words.

‘Do you think you belong in the mix? Do you think that today is your day to partake in the Presidential Cleaning?’

‘With all respect, Sir, I think I’ve…I think we have brought you someone of value. I think us interrupting Derrick Shaw’s transport worked to your benefit.’

The president nodded his head. ‘Alright then,’ he said before turning and heading to the door. ‘I’ll have someone take you to me in a few minutes.’

What did that mean? Why was I to be taken to him? ‘Fuck,’ I yelled once the door had closed behind him. Was he really going to be this harsh? Did he not have an ounce of forgiveness- of understanding- in him? I wondered what was going on with the other guys and if the president had gone to see them or if he’d come to see me first. I wondered if they’d been dealt the same hand I had; a hand of uncertainty.

Again, I perched myself on the metal chair, willing it to magically transform into a bed. Of course, it remained the same old uncomfortable metal chair with edges that tried hard to penetrate my skin. I shuffled around on it for a while, trying to find a position comfortable enough. When all failed, I decided to plop down in the corner of the room- on the cement floor. I pressed my head against the wall, being fully aware that I wouldn’t be able to hear anything, but trying anyway. I wanted a sign that the other guys were going to be okay. What I’d asked them to do wasn’t fair at all. I hated the feeling I got, knowing that if they ended up being a part of the Presidential Cleaning, it would all be my fault.

***

At least an hour went by before someone pushed open the door- the screeching of ungreased hinges irritating my ears.

‘Okay, Joe Chandler,’ the president made his way in for the second time.

I was confused as to why he’d shown up again. After all, he said that he’d have someone escort me to ‘god knows where’ in only a few minutes.

‘Yes, Mr. President.’

‘You’re free to join us for the Cleaning.’

My heart sank. Free? How was being a part of the Presidential Cleaning being free?

He must have noticed the look of horror on my face because he let out a subtle chuckle. ‘I’m not going to have you killed Joe Chandler. You’ve got a seat in one of the booths, if you’d like to watch.’

‘I…’ I tried to find the right words to decline his offer. ‘I’d rather not,’ I said in somewhat of a whisper.

‘Sorry,’ the President leaned toward me, gripping the lobe of his ear and pulling it down.

‘I’ve got to get to my wife. I…’ I searched his face for approval, ‘I’ve got quite a bit of explaining to do, if you know what I mean.’

‘Then I’m guessing that the follow-up offer that I’ve given to the others won’t be something you’re interested in.’

‘I’m afraid, I don’t think it will be.’

‘Well, for the record, you guys have truly proven yourselves today. I’ve trained you well and to see that you’ haven’t allowed your skills to wither away is very uplifting. Know that if you ever change your mind, there will be a place wide open for you amongst the men of NW45.’

‘Thank you, Sir.’

‘Remove the cuffs,’ he demanded.