The Paranoid Thief (6 page)

Though the pair were close to making good
an escape, Randolph took note his accomplice was far too relaxed. By all rights
she should be jumpier than the only woman at a cheek pinching bachelor party.
But regardless of how Jill should be, Randolph had to quiet his anxieties and
concentrate on the moment at hand as the elevator came to a stop. After the
count of three the pair watched in silence as the doors slowly opened. When no
guard appeared at the opening, Randolph stilled Jill’s move with a hand,
knowing a seated guard could trip the alarm faster than he could move. So with
a finger to his lips, he allowed the twin doors to slide closed. This reinstated
a puzzled look on Jill, which he answered with a motion of his hand to stay
put. When she gave acknowledgment to his desire, he pushed the up button again,
whereby the circuitry registered its location and reopened the doors. Twice
more Randolph selected his floor in an effort to entice the guard’s curiosity
over that of his natural laziness to get off his
keister
and have a look. The fact Randolph knew what this would entail did not mean he
would be truly ready when the time came. So for each time the doors slid open,
he found his heart pounding like a panting rabbit. By the fourth rotation,
Randolph found his heart on its way out of his chest when the opening doors
finally revealed the average-looking guard stepping into view. When the guard
saw the pair of them, the shock on his face gave Randolph that micro second of
time to reach out and grab the man’s fashionable tie, which to criminals was
nothing more than a convenient neck handle. With a jerk and shove, Randolph
sent the surprised guard right into the back wall. Then a couple of quick blows
to the head as the doors closed sent the dazed guard to the floor, unconscious.
His veins bouncing with adrenaline, Randolph locked the doors closed and took a
few steadying breaths before he began to strip the man.

“Is he dead?” Jill asked, having moved not
one muscle in the violent activity.

“No, just unconscious,” Randolph answered,
wishing his voice didn’t betray his edginess.

“Wouldn’t it be better for us if he were
dead?”

Randolph had the man’s pants off when he
picked up on the unfeeling tone in her words. He spared a glance up at her
leaning on the wall with her arms crossed and watching him with calculating
brown eyes. Warning bells went off in his mind at the ease in which she was
standing there but as yet he couldn’t reason out what he should be doing about
them. As yet she hadn’t hindered him in any way, nor has she given any false
intelligence. Thus far the only alarming thing about her was her changing moods
and uncaring belief in a human life. So with an edge in his voice he told her,
“I haven’t the right to take his life.”

“John, you don’t need any-one's permission.
Just snap his
neck,
and we needn’t worry about him
setting off any alarms.”

Randolph stepped into the man’s pants and secured
his gun, making certain its beam setting was on ‘non-lethal’ before holstering
the weapon, and told her sharply, “His handcuffs will do that for us.”

“Yeah?
So he can’t
reach the alarm with his hands, he has a set of legs to use you know.”

Randolph’s ire rose as he buttoned up his
new shirt. Then he set his face in stone and told Jill, “I’ve never taken a
human life and I’m not about to start now, so
zip
it!”
When it appeared she understood his declaration, Randolph used his coveralls to
tie up the guards head and shoulders to keep him quite when he did awaken. Next
Randolph opened the doors and hurried to the desk, shoving Jill ahead of him so
she wouldn’t get any ideas. Once at the desk, he rifled through the drawers,
pulling out any card keys and also discovering a few spare credits on a petty
cash card, which he pocketed, as it wouldn’t require any identification to use,
like the man’s main credit account in the wallet now resting comfortably in his
back pocket. “All right,” Randolph began, “we’ll play it this way. You’re a
secretary in the wrong corridor and I’m showing you to the other one. So act
the part.”

“Fine, you’re the boss, but what if we end
up in a fire fight?” she asked, sounding as if she was little concerned about
it.

“If we’re lucky it won’t come to that. Now
follow me.”

Randolph took her over to the exit and
swiped the security badge, but when the door slid open, it revealed two burly
security guards with guns already leveled and an upper management businessman
behind them. “Hold
it,
fellows,” Randolph held up a
hand, thinking fast, “she’s just…” He got no further as Jill swiped his feet
out from under him. As Randolph’s eyes filled in panic, his arms wind-milled in
an effort to reduce the damage he could sustain in a backward fall or at the
very least minimize the painful event by landing on Jill. But she had already
cleared Randolph’s reach and once he crashed to the floor, she grabbed and
twisted his arm, forcing Randolph to roll on to his stomach or have it broken.
“
Oww
!” he exclaimed in disbelief, feeling the holster
relieved of its weapon.

Once she had him disarmed, Jill let
Randolph go just as quickly as she had dropped him and backed away, pointing
the gun, and announced, “
It’s
okay guys. He’s
harmless.”

“Uh?”
Randolph
exclaimed as he rolled carefully to his side and looked about the group.

“So, Major, how’d our boy do?” the
businessman in the 3,000-credit blue and gray suit asked Jill.

“Up until Larry in the elevator, he did
quite well,” Jill answered, motioning with the point of the gun that Randolph
should slowly get up.

Randolph did as directed with an eye on the
four of them. The two guards, however, waited till he stood before they holster
their guns and seized Randolph’s arms while Jill and the suit watch him.
I’ve been snookered,
Randolph
acknowledged.
And a right good job of it.
But why?
He then took note of Jill’s nonchalant
attitude with the gun as she aimlessly patted the barrel against her thigh.

“Okay, men,” the businessman said as he
stepped up to Jill’s side. “Take care of Larry and make certain his jacket
reflects his poor abilities before firing him and also fire Pete down in the
cells with some remarks reflecting his ineptitude.”

“Yes, Mr. Bennett,” one of the two said
while both let go to carry out their orders.

With a look of uncertainty on his face,
Randolph looked to Mr. Bennett, who talked in a tone of superiority. “Be of
ease, Mr. McCann. If you’ll precede Jill to my office, I’ll see about clearing
up some of your understandable confusion.”

Randolph looked over to Jill, who motioned
with her easily-acquired gun to take the lead, but also gave him a no non-sense
look which spoke louder than words she’d use it without hesitation. So walking
in silence, Randolph entered an elevator, then stepped off on the thirtieth
floor into a world of cubical people, phones, computers and the countless other
activities any thriving business depended upon. Reminded of the gun which
Randolph had seen readjusted to lethal by a flick of Jill’s thumb, Randolph
walked besides a glass wall which separated them form the corporate activity
till the suit in front came to a mahogany door which read *Mel Bennett, Senior
Floor Executive of Research and Development.*

You
can always tell how important a man is by his
office,
Randolph quoted to himself as he walked into Mr. Bennett’s outer office, which
was complete with stylish metal and plastic-glass waiting chairs. Wall hangings
and cool bluish-white walls told of a modern thinker who was more interested
with the future than the owners who always used earth tones. Passing a true
secretary instead of the eye candy the codgers and dead-end managers used,
Randolph, Bennett and Jill stepped into Mr. Bennett’s private office, decorated
in the same manner.

“If you’ll take a seat, Mr. McCann, I’ve a
few questions before we begin to enlighten you.” Mr. Bennett motioned, rounding
his smoky-glass desk.

Randolph did as told, while he noted Jill
took the chair next to the wall as if out of habit.

“So tell me,” Mr. Bennett asked with
curiosity in his voice as he settled himself, “why didn’t you kill the guard?”

“Uh, come again?” Randolph asked,
bewildered.

“I’m certain the major made it quite clear
he was a threat to your escape, so why didn’t you kill him?” Mr. Bennett folded
his hands on the fire-hardened glass desk, watching Randolph’s eyes.

Randolph stared at him in disbelief for a
second. “Wait a minute, you mean to tell me you wanted me to murder the man?”

“It would’ve proven you’re capable of close
end work. We already know you can murder at a distance.”

“Now hold it right there—you have your
facts wrong. I’ve never killed anyone in my life,” Randolph explained with a
hard edge to his voice.

“Come, come, Mr. McCann,” Mr. Bennett
began, sitting back in his chair with a glance at Jill. “Your trial is a matter
of public records. That explosive you left killed nine people.”

Randolph folded his arms over his own chest
and told the unfeeling man in matter of fact tones, “Don’t believe everything you
read. I was framed and done so with considerable skill.”

Jill got up to open a mini-bar cabinet and
offered Randolph a glass. Randolph eyed the chilled glasses within and the
hundred-credit Wild Boar bottle of bourbon but waved off the offer as he liked
to keep his reflexes at their peak, even in situations he had no idea how to
handle. Jill caught his negative and shrugged before she poured herself a tall
one. Mr. Bennett eyed Jill’s antics and her free use of his bar but made no
comment and instead asked Randolph, “So you’re maintaining in all the jobs
you’ve ever done, you’ve never killed anyone?”

“Absolutely not!”
Randolph declared with some force.

Mr. Bennett pulled out a thick file from a
desk drawer and flipped the hard copies till he stopped at a page and asked,
“Are you opposed to killing, or is it more of a religion?”

“I don’t believe in murder, which in no way
means there are not people I’d like to see dead.”
Namely, one Mr. Hilden,
Randolph said silently to himself.

Jotting a note, Mr. Bennett pushed the file
aside and asked Jill, “What do you think,
Major
?”

“He’s got the skills; there’s no denying.
And he’s not helpless in a fight.” Then Jill shrugged and finished with, “I’ve
seen
better
.”

Randolph decided it was time to become the
aggressor and
demanded,
“Now I’ve answered your
questions, how about filling me in on what the hell’s this all about?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. McCann, but for now I’ll
have to leave you in the dark.” Mr. Bennett pressed a button under the edge of
the desk, where after two guards stepped in from the outer office who must have
arrived a little after they did. “If you’ll be so kind as to follow these men,
they’ll take you to your apartment.”

Apartment?
Randolph looked over the very able duo.

Mr. Bennett pulled out a card key from a
drawer and tossed it to one, telling Randolph, “Now don’t get any ideas on the
way. That item in your skull has other uses then tracking.” With that threat
plainly aired, Randolph was excused and taken to the elevator.

When the elevator stopped on the forty-eighth
floor, Randolph walked out onto dark green carpet along a light green and white
hall to room 17. Here one of the two men stopped their casual stroll as the
other guard produced the card key.

“This is your pass card, Mr. McCann. It has
your room number and a color code. The color code allows you access to any
rooms with the same color. Dining hall, weight room, entertaining center and
such but a word of warning, using your pass on doors without your color lets
Mr. Bennett know within an
instant,
and that can be
very painful, if not detrimental to your health.” He tapped the back of
Randolph’s neck to emphasize his warning before he handed over the card.

Randolph watched the two men walk away
without a backward glance before he took note of a sister door right across
from his. Somewhat perplexed, Randolph flipped the card about in his hand
before he swiped it over the reader to his door. With a glance down the now
empty corridor, Randolph pushed open the fake oak door to reveal a thinly
furnished apartment, complete with kitchen, living area, bedroom and bath.
Though still uneasy with matters, Randolph stepped in and looked over the brown
rug, light wood-tone wall panels, and Navajo white walls which showed signs of
two wall hangings recently removed. He walked to the back wall-window to pull
open the floor-to-ceiling drapes. As expected, the lightly shaded plastic-steel
widow looked out onto another corporate building.
So much for figuring out where I am,
Randolph commented to himself,
heading next for the bathroom.

Once his physical needs were met and a
modest time spent under the shower, Randolph left the basic bathroom and shower
combination and ignored the queen-size bed outfitted with brown quilt and
matching pillows to check out the kitchen and its cupboards. Here Randolph
found a moderately stocked kitchen, as well as a refrigerator of fresh meats
and vegetables. He then ran the selection over in his mind. Setting a few
things out on the glass top dining table along with the standard spices, Randolph
took note nothing was out of date and all were unopened, confirming in his mind
someone expected this room to be occupied fairly soon.

He looked over the stove and rubbed his
freshly shaven face, feeling worlds better after the hot and cleansing shower.
Now that he had time to think, Randolph rolled his eyes to the obvious
questions running across his mind and decided to distract his understandable
confusion by making himself a meal with a bit more taste then he’d been getting
these last few weeks.

Randolph sighed in some pleasure as he laid
down the last plate of a well-rounded meal, which consisted of a chicken
casserole, potato salad, fresh green beans and a real orange, sliced in
eighths. He was just settling down to say grace when a pleasant voice spoke
out.

“Mr. McCann, Mr. Bennett and Major Wander
are here to see you.”

Randolph’s face took on the disgust he felt
before he sighed in regret and pushed up from his meal to approach the door.
Once the door opened to those outside, Jill was first in, now wearing
comfortable jeans, a yellow/pink long-sleeve ruffle-collar blouse and light red
vest. As Mr. Bennett walked in, Randolph saw Jill sniffing the air with a
sub-vocal “
mmm
” while walking unerringly over to his
untouched meal.

“
What’cha
been
cooking?” Jill asked as she looked over the bowls.

“Nothing special, just a simple meal,”
Randolph commented, taking note no bodyguards were with Mr. Bennett this time.
But then again, why should they be?
Randolph rubbed his neck as a reminder of what could very well be planted in
his brain. Mr. Bennett obviously took note of the gesture as he passed but made
no outward remark or smirk of superiority.

“Simple?” Jill inquired, glancing his way.
“This looks like you’ve put some time in it.”

By the time Randolph closed the door, Mr.
Bennett had made
himself
comfortable on the
couch-chair and said mildly, before Randolph could answer, “It looks as if
you’ve made yourself at home, Mr. McCann. Good; I like a reasonable man.”

Jill picked up a fork and tried the
casserole, smacking her lips with delight. “Hey, Mel, you’ve got to try this!
Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, looking back up at Randolph. “May I?”

“As you already are, go ahead,” Randolph
answered, discounting the meal, as it would be cold by the time their meeting
was over. He waved at the plate with a sigh.

Jill took a seat in the only other chair in
the room with a delighted smile on her face and began dishing out a good
portion for herself. While she did so, Mr. Bennett crossed his legs and motioned
Randolph he should sit down on the other end of the couch-chair. “The long and
short of it, Mr. McCann, is that I run a task force dedicated to the betterment
of our way of living. The projects we perform are solely financed by this
corporation, with no outside funding or contributions, to make certain of no
outside influences.” Mr. Bennett gestured at Jill and continued. “Major Wander
and seven other teams, specially matched up,
are
my
field operatives who help insure no corporations or foreign governments step on
our rights of fair trade. This sometimes puts our teams in very dangerous
situations; thusly my predecessor chose to enlist the aid of condemned
criminals so no attachments could be traced back to us.”

Randolph caught the meaning of his speech
and remarked, “So in other words, I’ve been invited to the party and the
implant is in place to adjust my attitude.”

“Very perceptive, Mr.
McCann.
But let us simply call it a safety measure to protect us all.”

“So that whole bit down stairs was my interview
into your group?” Randolph received a smile from the executive. “So what
would’ve happened if I’d failed? Would you have killed me?” The question was
rather self-evident, but he had to ask.

“No, Mr. McCann, you’d have killed
yourself. There were three traps you could have activated, or let the major
trip, which would’ve set off the chip in your head.”

Randolph glanced at Jill.

Mr. Bennett denied, “No, Mr. McCann, the
major knew nothing about them, save you could be killed if you screwed up.”

“Sorry, Randolph,” Jill said over a
mouthful of potato salad, “but I’ve my own chip and therefore couldn’t warn
you.”

“I take it all the agents are equipped in
the same way?” Randolph once more couldn’t help but ask the obvious.

“Naturally.
How
else can we make sure of your loyalty? Besides, all save you are confessed
killers. That, I’m afraid, was my slip up, but Jill assures me she can deal
with the mistake.” Mr. Bennett stood, as if that should explain everything
Randolph wanted to know, but then he added as an afterthought, “Regardless of
the mistake, I’m dying to find out how you got those wonderful tools past the
prison system and my own people. They look home made.”

“They are,” Randolph remarked with some
pride, though he’d be dammed before he showed these people his hiding place.

“Well, business calls, so I’ll leave the
pair of you to get acquainted. Let me know how things work out, Major. Till
later, Mr. McCann.” With that said, Randolph’s new warden took his leave.

As for Jill, she turned in the swivel chair,
calling after Mr. Bennett, “Sure, Mel.” Then, downing a glass of wine she’d
found already poured out in a crystal wine glass, she began, “So then, by what
name do you prefer I call you, Randolph? Your file showed ten to twelve
aliases.”

Randolph shrugged. “Take your pick. I’ve
worked under so many
names,
I’ve tried to keep from
becoming attached to any.”

“You’re also not much for partners
either,
just a lonesome dove in a world of ducks.”

“That’s an analogy of my character I’ve
never heard, but yes, I found out early in my career partnering up is the
fastest way to get caught.”

Jill stood. “
Mmm
,
well, you’ll have to change that attitude, for you’re my new partner.” Randolph
watched as Jill sat on the couch-chair and crossed her legs while she stretched
out her arm on the headrest.
Just as relaxed as you please.
Then as Randolph digested her
bit of news, Jill changed the subject by asking, “Do you cook other meals as
good as this one?”

“
Mmm
?
Oh sure, my mother’s a chef for a trendy high-class restaurant.”

“That good, uh?
Wonderful, because I can’t cook.”
Jill uncrossed her legs
and slapped both knees in getting up. “Well, I’ve a few things to catch up on.
So why don’t you have dinner ready around, what, seven?” Jill looked at the
time on her watch. “And we’ll discuss our partnership after the meal.” Randolph
eyed her and her easy way of handing out orders but decided to restrain himself
from making any comments, at least not yet. He was about to say he’d need to
visit the local store when she reached across the table and turned on the video
screen he hadn’t looked over yet and punched up a cooking supply book.

Jill pointed. “Just tell the screen what
you need, and if it’s available, it’ll be here in an hour, at least so I’m
told,” she admitted, indicating she’d never used the time-saving tool in the
manner it was made for. Though Randolph was still swarming with questions, Jill
headed for the door but called over her shoulder in warning. “Oh, and Mel
wasn’t kidding about the chip. If you go outside your key card color, your head
will feel like exploding or something far worse.”

“Well, this has been a real fun day!”
Randolph commented to no one save himself, as Jill had already closed the door
behind her. With a roll of his eyes, Randolph sent a glare skyward, knowing he
had to reorganize his mind.
Like, for
starters, am I really better off alive? Normally I’d have said yes.
But
with a touch to his neck, feeling the surgery scar he wasn’t so sure.
I’ve dealt with electronics most of my life,
he reasoned,
I’ll just have to deal with
this as I do all my other obstacles.
For if it had circuitry, given time
and equipment he could manipulate it, at least he hoped. Next in the plus
column, Randolph understood this nice clean apartment was his to live in,
including access to basic computing for ordering anything he wished to cook.
In the minus column, I’m still a prisoner,
and so far no one’s mentioned maid-service,
he added after looking on the
dirty dishes.
However, weighing the plus
and minuses on a scale makes no true sense till I fully understand my roll. As
for what I’m going to do with Jill...
Randolph considered, rubbing his chin
before dishing out what was left of his meal and inserting it in a warming
unit.
That brings up another matter
entirely. Looking at her tells me she visits the gym once a day, which means
she wouldn’t be a pushover come the time I’m ready to disappear. And as for
being my partner, I learned early on women are too damn fickle. One minute
you’re working with one, and the next, you’re in bed with her moments before
her husband walks in.
Randolph rubbed his arm, remembering that experience,
before he withdrew his meal and went over the food selection while eating.
Since working for Mr. Hilden, I really
haven’t had a well-prepared meal in a long while.