Aurona, page 6
It hit him like a thunderclap. He was reading his own name! He blinked hard and read it again. “ADAM,” it said plainly, “KEYS INSIDE ROBE.”
Jolted, he gripped the casket. Runes! The message was meant for him only, yet it was written boldly, openly, from head to foot! He started sputtering in a coarse whisper. “Grandpa! W-what incredible nerve! I-I take back everything I ever thought! Th-the robe’s fabulous!”
He acted quickly and obeyed the message. Feeling along the inner lining of the impossibly heavy garment, he carefully explored for any abnormality, any kind of lump. Could it be? Sure enough, there it was! Under one arm, a few knotted threads were out of place!
“Yes!” he whispered excitedly. Suddenly remembering where he was, he glanced suspiciously around the room. “There’d better be no cameras, Grandpa….” As the seam unraveled, he slid out a small, featherweight, plain-looking package.
“This is it?” He turned the tiny bundle over in the light. “This is all?” Plain, brown wrapping paper crinkled softly in his hands, tied with a whisper-thin gold wire.
He chuckled. “Expensive tie wrap.” With a sudden chill, he realized that in a way he’d just been spoken to from beyond the grave. Spooked, he smoothed out the robe and steadied himself. Flipping the slim package over and over in his fingers, he pondered his next move: the hordes would be waiting outside, scrutinizing him in the minutest detail! His heart started to pound painfully.
“W-what do I do now, Grandpa?” he stuttered. “I’ve got this thing in my hands, but how do I get it outta here w-without anybody knowing?… Wait, wait, I got it! Yes! The shielded box for my security pass at IFA!”
Fumbling inside his suit coat, he removed the metaceramic sleeve from an inner, zippered pocket. His hands trembled violently as he tucked the slim brown package in next to his ID card. He quickly zipped the thin box back into his pocket, paused, and took a deep breath. Yes, he understood completely: some kind of important keys now lay in his possession and Grandpa had entrusted them with him alone. He knelt next to the old man one last time to squeeze the icy, cold hands.
“H-how do I say goodbye?” He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the inevitable flood. “We were the best pals in the whole world, weren’t we, Grandpa? Pals to the end.” It was no use. The torrent burst and he wept bitterly. After a long moment, he shuddered as reality jolted him once again. The crowds outside would be watching his every step! IntraSolar television would be revealing the new heir to an inestimable fortune!
“I’ll do you proud,” he vowed softly. He rose slowly to his feet and turned resolutely toward the door. Steeling himself, he summoned the guard with a small transponder. As the panels opened with a pneumatic puff, his face appeared, bowed in grief.
Chapter 4: DECEPTION
Acting important and flashing official-looking badges, a group of men were pushing determinedly through the crowd and rudely elbowing their way up to the ropes in the receiving line. In their midst, a darkly-clad person directed their movements with subtle signals of hand and eye. Many murmurs of annoyance arose, but quickly subsided as the young heir appeared in the doorway.
Adam’s steps faltered. Somewhere out there he’d heard an echoing wave of protest, the sound amplified by the shape of the circular room. His mind started reeling. “Uh-oh! What was that all about?” he mused, peering around the marble pillars. “I sure hope security’s taking care of it….” Awkwardly attempting to hide his reaction, he stopped and turned on his heel to appear as if he were taking in a long, last last look at the dazzling spectacle in the vaultlike chamber.
The day was becoming almost too much to bear. With great reluctance, he turned to face the crowd and begin his endless obligatory walk down the receiving line. He felt trapped, like a bug under a microscope, dissected and scrutinized in the minutest detail. He inched along with his face red and his knees shaking. Shortly, some of his grandfather’s old buddies reached over the ropes to warmly thump him on his back, press his hands, and dole out some reassuring hugs. Despite himself, he found that he was actually smiling. Yes, they’d come to express genuine sympathy.
But the rest … he was sure they’d all shown up out of pure curiosity, clueless about this skinny kid or that mysterious, awful-looking codger in the coffin. As he pressed on down the ropes, he began to feel a lot of heartfelt warmth and genuine sympathy being conveyed. It was quite obvious that his grandfather had helped and was loved by a ton of people, from kings and presidents to common folks! The sea of smiling faces and skin of all colors peppered an amazing tapestry of colorful traditional national costumes. Shortly, his confidence crept back and he began to feel a bit different: calmer, even encouraged.
As he paused to wipe his eyes, a subtle movement caught his attention out of the corner of a lowered lid. Something flashed and fluttered, followed by a strange, excited whispering. A chill swept over him, a sense of foreboding. He put his tissue away, smiled bravely, and looked up. An odd group was facing him. Summoning all his courage, he reached over the ropes to shake their hands.
Poorly disguised in a thin veneer of formality, their toothy smiles, shifting eyes, sly winks, and sweaty palms revealed all the signs of deceit. They stood out in the throng, flashing like warning lights: mourners who came, but not to mourn. Hard, scrutinizing eyes bored into him, their pointed gaze telling him plainly that they knew something very interesting must have gone on behind those heavily-guarded doors. As they acknowledged him with grunts and frozen smiles, he turned and quickened his pace down the line, his mind awash with gruesome scenarios.
Suddenly, his brows went up. Was that heat he felt against his chest? Discreetly he slipped his hand under his suit coat. Yes! His shielded security pass had suddenly grown blistering hot! He glanced around, searching for an exit. Somehow he had to get away quickly, out of range of those ever-present cameras. But where?
Standing on his toes, he spotted a small sign on the far wall. In a flash of pure inspiration, a solution hit him. Excusing himself politely, he slipped away. Immediately, two security guards were on his tail. Off in the distance, another one spun on his heels and sprinted toward him, holding onto his earpiece with pointed fingers as he called for more backups.
“Hey, guys, guys!” he whispered. “I-I just have to use the bathroom!”
Trotting alongside, the group glanced at him questioningly, then shrugged and nodded in unison. As he entered, they crowded in closely behind him, leaving one to guard the hallway. “Hey! Just-just give me a minute, man.” He sidestepped quickly into a stall and slammed the door shut. The thud of their bodies rattled the hinges. Rolling his eyes, he sat down and took a deep breath.
As quietly as he could, he unzipped the inner pocket of his suit coat with trembling fingers and slid out the shielded ceramic security box. Wow, it still felt hot! As he flipped it over gingerly, his eyes popped. Scanned! He bit his lip. The magnetic recorder didn’t lie! As the security guards yammered loudly outside his door, joking and swapping stories, he counted the bars. His precautions had served him well: the long row of dark stripes proved that he’d been scanned no less than thirty times! “Holy cow,” he muttered, “it-it looks like a UPC Code!!” He looked up in dismay. “So I’m a target now?”
Taking a moment to compose himself, he flushed the toilet and stepped out. Seven security goons were staring at him. He squeezed toward the sink, dried his hands, and made his way toward the door. They tailed him into the hallway in lock step, a neat, suit-encrusted row.
His heart fell. There they were again, that same odd group loitering outside the men’s room! An involuntary, stifled gasp escaped his lips. As his steps faltered, their eyes widened; they elbowed each other sharply, exchanging knowing glances. With a chill, he realized that he’d just given himself away! He’d better do something, and fast!
Waving off a forest of microphones and obnoxious television interviewers outside, he quickly formed his brute squad into a protective wedge and rushed down the steps into the waiting limo. As they sped away, he spun on his knees to peer out the blackened rear window. The sinister group receded into the distance, their arms gesturing and pointing excitedly, and then the scenery flashed by in a dizzying blur, just like the frightening thoughts reeling through his mind.
In moments, the group was back at the plane. He sank exhausted into a soft VIP seat in the upper lounge as the powerful thruster jets vectored the Metroliner upward in a steep sixty-degree angle above the Potomac. While his clueless brute squad settled in around him, he devoted his short, precious time to think. He knew that the weird group intensely coveted the package in his pocket, enough to kill for it. There was murder in their eyes.
Muttering quietly, he rhythmically tap-tapped his armrest in deep concentration. “A place, a place, a place to hide the package. “A place, a place. Hey! Maybe...?” He glanced at his watch and groaned. “Dogs! That idea’s out, it’s already past three; the banks are closed.”
A new wave of panic gripped him and he peered out of the Metroliner’s huge windows, searching the ground. “Good grief! I hope they don’t shoot us down!”
His fingers drummed with renewed urgency. “Yikes, I-I don’t know, m-maybe I can hide it somewhere in my apartment until tomorrow? I’ve got that big meeting later this afternoon with all those lawyers. Yeah, t-that’ll have to do for now … I guess.” He visualized his familiar floor plan room by room, checking off a long list of weird possibilities. “Hide the package, hide the package….” Finally, it came to him in a flash of pure inspiration. He raised a brow, shrugging. “Hey,” he whispered. “That’s a unique spot, for sure! They’d never think of looking there!”
As the plane taxied toward yet another waiting limo, he put a new three-step plan into action. Taking out his checkbook, he enticed the security guards into a bit of four-figure overtime. No problem: they knew he was good for it. Hastily checking their ordinance, they piled into the big car with him.
Halfway home, he had the driver make an unexpected stop at a hardware store. Exchanging puzzled glances, the heavily armed entourage hopped out with him. They walked as a unit, facing outward and keeping the circle tight. He smiled politely at the shuddering cashier, made a small purchase, and left.
Home at last. Discreetly stationing six men down in the busy lobby, he selected the beefiest specimen for the most lucrative post: the door right outside his penthouse. He rushed inside, drew the curtains, and dug out his toolbox. In minutes, there was a rasping sound of hollow metal being sawed and the vinegary-smelling odor of acetic acid permeating the air. He hummed quietly to himself as he worked. “There you go. A little silicone cement here, a little twist there, then a Ziploc baggie….” The package was concealed. It took a half hour for the glue to cure. Its extremely light weight adapted perfectly to the odd location, just like he’d thought.
“Well, so much for step one.” He sighed nervously, glancing at his watch. “Yike! It’s a quarter to six! The lawyers!” he groaned. “Now I gotta make it through all tonight’s garbage!” He threw on his overcoat and dashed out the door, signaling to two of his bodyguards. A block away, endless rounds of paperwork were awaiting his signature: wills, trusts, memberships, stocks, bonds, bulging bank accounts, deeds; they were all his now.
The time crawled by. He began to pace nervously between the flurries of nervous lawyers and gales of flying documents, glancing repeatedly out of the darkening window. His pen had run out of ink and writer’s cramp had set in. The whole thing was too hard to believe; he’d never dreamed Grandpa owned so much!
Two hours later, the circling crowd of lawyers thinned a bit, seeming to pause and catch a collective breath. As they readied more stacks of paper for another round, he threw up his hands in exasperation. “Yo! Guys!” They looked up in surprise. “So stop already! It’s been a long day! Can’t we just use a rubber stamp, or something?” Backing toward the door, he excused himself effusively. “I-I gotta go! Really!” Without another word he raced out into the dark city streets, the two bodyguards puffing along behind him.
Squad Cars! The strobing lights electrified his senses. Nervously showing his ID to the cops, he sprinted into the Aerie’s lobby. Nobody was there! It was empty! Where was all that security he’d paid for?
The three bolted into his private elevator and raced up to the penthouse. Sure enough, the other four were there, red-faced and shouting at each other and the cops. The beefy guard lay unconscious next to his penthouse door. As they spotted Adam, they started to fidget nervously, avoiding eye contact.
“So.” He kept his voice level. “What’s up? Or, should I say … down?”
One of the cops looked up. “Simple: the goons jimmied open a back door, came up the stairs, and then climbed through the ceiling of your elevator on the second floor. When they got to the top, there were just too many of ‘em pourin’ outta the elevator for this big guy. He didn’t even have a chance to draw his piece before they clubbed him. He’s gonna have a whopper of a headache tomorrow!”
“I see.” Adam took a deep breath, turned resolutely on his heel, and walked in. Just as he’d expected, Grandpa’s pride, his comfortably furnished penthouse in the late 50’s style, had been thoroughly ransacked, turned upside down, and methodically smashed to bits! He groaned, righteous anger rising in hot waves.
A flock of detectives appeared, descending on the splintered piles. He grit his teeth anxiously, watching their gel tape lifting fingerprints, scanners beeping for clues and tweezers nipping tidbits of DNA. Waiting until everyone’s back turned for a split second, he discreetly checked out the package’s hiding place. A sigh of relief escaped his lips in a short breath. It seemed undisturbed.
Kicking away a small clearing in the center of the room, he paced back and forth, thinking half-aloud as he groped for answers. “What am I gonna do now with those jerks on the loose?” he muttered. “Th-there’s no telling when they’ll show up again! There’s gotta be a way to throw them off my back for good!” Suddenly a spark kindled way back in his mind, rushing forward almost as a full-blown vision. His eyes widened. “Yes, that’s it! A bit of red herring across the trail; an interesting, ah, sidestep!” He shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, why not,” he muttered quietly, “it works in the movies.”
“What’s that?” One of the cops jerked his head up.
He had to think quickly. “I, um, ah … I was just saying, ‘m-move! I hope I don’t have to move out of here! In any case, I gotta see if a few friends could come over and help me straighten out this junk. It’s gonna be a lotta work to….”
“Hey,” the chubby cop interrupted good-naturedly. “Me ‘n my buddies are off duty in a coupl’a minutes. Soon as we grab the info we need, we’ll all stay a few and help ya straighten out—won’t we, guys?” He paused and repeated the question a little louder. “Won’t we, guys?”
A sea of eyes rolled and heads nodded reluctantly. They’d gathered all the information they needed, so after a minute of banter everyone bent to work making a semblance of order, plowing paths through the debris.
“Gee, thanks, guys!”
“Don’ mention it. Hey, wanna Twinkie?”
“No, please.” Adam sighed, his arms crossed. “Well, at least they didn’t completely destroy my computer. I’ll just plug in the hard drive back in and….”
“Hey!” the cop interrupted again, chuckling and waving his Twinkie in the air. “You mean at least they didn’t break your stupid neck!”
As the elevator closed a final time, he wedged a bent chrome-and-vinyl dining chair under the doorknob, gathered some blankets, and settled wearily to the floor. It was midnight and there was no recognizable bed, just feathers … everywhere. Hundreds of them. Feathers sticking to everything. He sighed wearily. “Just look at this place! All my memories mashed into mincemeat!”
His exhausted gaze rested on the bathroom’s open door. Aside from the ripped shower curtain and broken glass on the medicine cabinet, nothing else seemed to be touched; the crooks probably realized they were running out of time. “Whoa, I’m way too wiped out to even think about digging out the package now!” A lopsided grin spread over his face. “If the cops had seen me looking in there, they’d think I flipped my lid! Well, the Aerie’s totally surrounded and security’s on every floor, so I-I’ll just have to wait ‘till after my errand tomorrow.”
The floor was way too hard. Why had Grandpa insisted on feather beds? He flopped back and forth awhile then lifted his head in exasperation. “Hey! Here I am, without a doubt the richest person in the world—no, maybe in the solar system—and-and I’m sleeping on the floor like a pauper?” He leaned back in disgust. “Not for long, you dummy,” he vowed, “not for long.” His heavy lids started to close. “One more day,” he mumbled. “I-I really don’t think they’ll come back here a second time. Yeah, my next step’s gotta work tomorrow! One more day, that’s all I ask. Gotta buy some time.”
He was up early, his mind reeling. After a few minutes of tinkering and reconnecting, he rushed to work on his computer, burying himself on the Internet with downloads of galaxy records, star discs, and volumes of early explorations. In few hours, his research was done and he was ready to commence. Cracking his knuckles and flexing his fingers, he hunched low over the keyboard and began hacking away, snarking softly to himself. Star-Cad had always been one of his favorites. “Now let’s see: this newly discovered globular cluster near Orion’s belt looks like a good reference point.” Carefully, he set the bearing. “Hmm,” he mused, coding in instructions, “fourteen months’ of travel should fit in nicely right about here; a real trip along well-known pathways. Okay. That’s it! Now let’s veer off into the unknown….”
About one o’clock he printed out the pile of bogus star maps, burned the rest of the phony information onto a minuscule flash drive, and slipped everything into a large, important-looking envelope. “Rats, that took a lot longer than I thought! Gotta hurry now, the bank closes at three! Hmmm,” he thought, hefting the package. “Needs a little weight….”
