Chapter One - Trifecta

Her father always said that there are three situations when it's a bad idea to use an elevator: when there's a fire in the building, when there's a robbery, and when you're in need of a quick escape. However, as she was caught in the midst of all three, an elevator seemed to be Lucy's only route of departure.
Prompted by immediacy, she pressed the up button; frightened by the idea of betraying her father's advice, she retreated back down the deserted hallway. Her footfalls were muted by the wail of the fire alarm. She couldn't hear the heaving breaths that surged through her chest like hot bile; she shook and over-heated like a junkie with a need. And her need was to get out. Now.
“Those elevators are deathtraps, Lucy. They'll be the death of you. Stay away from them.”
She intended to.
Certainly burglary and fire complicated things, especially since Lucy was the thief. The fire she could only blame on the devil; perhaps he'd finally come for her. She didn't know. All she knew was that she was going to come out of that building cop-free or not at all.
At the hallway's end, she found a door labeled 'stairwell' – finally, another way out. Lucy lunged at the door, slamming her hand against the handle, only to find that it was locked. She tried to kick it open. She tried to jimmy it with a bobby pin. Then she ran back to the front desk, across from the elevator; there had to be something there heavy enough to force the door. Luckily, she found a utility closet unlocked and retrieved a hammer from it. Enthused by fresh hope, she ran back to the stairwell door. Lucy slammed the hammer against the door handle. It crumbled, but did not break. She swung again. The door still would not budge.
Resting her forehead against the cool wood of the door, Lucy let the hammer drop. Then she snapped back. Wake up, Lucy! She thought. Keep moving, keep moving, there has to be another exit. She kept going down the next hallway; her shadow flickered ahead of her via the flashing red fire alarm.
Every door in this corridor was locked as well, but none of them mattered to Lucy. There were no exits on the other side. This floor, the cellar floor, was for records only – rooms for credit files labeled A-C, D-G, E-H, all the way down to U-Z. Lucy already had what she'd come for in the clear plastic envelope tucked below her arm. It was her reason for going in and her reason for going out. She didn't even know what was inside.
Halfway down the hall, she looked up at the hole in the ceiling – her mode of entry. She'd fallen two floors down an empty shaft into this dungeon of a basement. Dust still floated down, debris swinging on thin stringy fibers of plaster hovered over her head. She wondered if she could climb back up. Lucy jumped, catching a hand on the edge of the leftover plaster. It snapped and she fell back down. Nope. There had to be another way.
One last door waited for her at the hall's very end. Unlabeled, and, hopefully, unlocked. Lucy reached out to the knob; she prayed, to whatever deity might still have the patience to listen to her, for the door to open.
The knob started to turn from the other side. Lucy pulled away. Who would go down to the bottom floor of a building that's on fire? Had to be security.
They knew who she was.
They knew what she looked like.
She ran.
The red silhouette sprinted behind her this time, leaving a fleeting trail in her wake.
“Hey! Wait! Stop!” The orders were muffled by the siren, but she still heard them. Though her vision was pin-holed by adrenaline, she saw him as she turned the corner: a security guard headed her way.
Lucy leaped behind the front desk and nestled below the desk surface, behind the receptionist chair. She tried to control her breathing, tried to sink into the floor and channel some kind of calm. The shaking subsided, the sudden withdrawal of adrenaline replaced by sharp exhaustion. She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the side wall.
The day before yesterday she'd been a normal person, and now she was this.

Chapter Two – The Day Before Yesterday

The Rutherford Facility for the Aging and Elderly served themed meals to keep their clientele entertained. Mediterranean Monday, Tortellini Tuesday. Lucy came by to visit her father everyday at lunchtime. This day was his favorite: Wednesday Wieners and Baseball. Carl hated the food served the rest of the week. Every time Lucy visited he complained about the strange flavor of felafel or the audacity of the caregivers who didn't allow him meat at every meal.
“I am an American, damn it, born and raised. I want my barbecue beef, and I want it when I want it, as much as I want it. Just cause I'm old doesn't mean I don't know what I need. I don't care if it's not good for me; a man needs his meat!” And then he'd go on about the ridiculous cleanliness and constant quiet of the facility. “I'm telling you, Luce. It drives me nuts.”
“Dad, you and I both know that you don't have to stay here,” Lucy said.
Carl shook his head. “No. I do, Luce. I really do.”
“You're lucid. You're healthy. You're okay financially. You don't need this place.”
“All true,” Carl agreed, “I don't need this place, but you and I both know that I need to be here. That will never change.” Carl took a huge bite of his ballpark dog. He said, through his mouthful of meat and onions, “News this morning reported another case of petty theft at the gas station around the corner. A thousand bucks just up and disappeared over night. You hear about that?”
“No. No, I didn't. How strange.”
“Lucy.” Her father leaned farther over the table. “You have to stop.”
“I donate everything,” Lucy hissed. “It's not about the money. I just want to keep in practice.”
“Keep in practice? For what? We swore we were finished, you and me. You remember that? Are you trying to end up in jail?”
“I'm not going to end up in jail.”
“Keep pulling nonsense like this every week and you will. That's a guarantee. Is it so horrible that I want you to grow old like I have, that I want to see you get married?”
“Ha!” Lucy scoffed. “Dad, you and I both know that I'm never getting married.”
A nurse walked by them to start a tape of an old baseball game – the black and white fuzzy type in which the commentators all sound like Mr. Movie-phone.
“Well, the weather doesn't look to promising, but nonetheless, here in Boston we're preparing for a challenging match-up between the Sox and the San Francisco Giants today at Fenway Park.”
Lucy's father avoided her eyes, staring pointedly at the television. “Come on, honey, let's watch, the game.”
“Dad, I know that you don't like this place -”
“It's not perfect, Luce, but it's a good enough fit. Here comes the pitcher.”
“And the crowd goes quiet as Rogers approaches the mound.”
“Dad.”
“A firecracker of an athlete in his first three seasons, Roger seems to have fallen behind this year, but he remains in the pitching rotation despite his inconsistency. I think he's just too greedy with those fastballs. The kid can't slow down, and now everyone else is catching up with him.”
“Dad.”
“Baseball's a tough sport to predict, folks. And statistics can only go so far. Coach Rayne has said that he has faith Rogers can redeem himself, and the rest of his teammates agree. He did lead them to two division championships and one series appearance, so they know that he's an ace, and that he could be one again. I say, what's wrong with a little faith?”
Carl was a man blessed with inexpressive eyes, a genetic gift also bestowed upon his only daughter. They were useful because they made one difficult to read and unpredictable, and these advantages made them especially valuable to a man who made his living by lying and stealing. He looked at Lucy and he knew that she could see that faint trace of sadness in his face. There were so many things he'd never been able to hide from her, but he knew that this could not be one of them.
He reached across the table and took his daughter's hand. “I can't live on the outside, Lucy. I can't. That promise we made to each other five years ago? If they let me out, I'll break it. We swore that neither of us would ever again take what isn't ours, and staying here is the only way I can do that. You should start figuring out what you're gonna do. How you're going to control yourself.” Carl returned his eyes to the baseball game and refused to look away.
“Three balls, no strikes. This is Roger's last chance to throw a good pitch. The wind up, and...oh! Folks, it's a home run. First inning and Giants lead one to nothing. Maybe some players can't be redeemed after all.”

Chapter Three – Plan B

A shadow passed Lucy on the other side of the front desk; a small gust of air tickled her back. Lucy's eyes flashed open.
She strained to listen through the fire alarm, but there was nothing – static, like being deaf. It's ironic how that is, she thought, so much noise that she couldn't hear, like something so hot that it feels cold or vice versa, being suffocated by air. Lucy read once that if someone were to fall a distance of over five hundred feet, accelerating at ten meters per second, per second, they wouldn't die from impact. They would die during their descent because they'd be falling so fast that the air resistance would make them incapable of exhaling. They would be long gone, choked by their own breath, before they reached the ground.
The guard's navy pants came into view. He crept slowly across the small office, gun raised, reaching his free hand toward the open utility cabinet.
Cautiously, Lucy rolled the desk chair out and stood. Then, head lowered like a charging bull, she rushed the chair at his back, using it's momentum to knock him to the ground. She slammed his head against the wall. He went limp.
Lucy snatched the guard's gun, radio, and keys. She ran to the stairwell door, fumbling to try every key on the ring. None of them worked. She'd smashed in the cylinders when she'd tried to open it by force. Now she'd trapped herself. Plan B was the gun. She didn't want to waste bullets, but she didn't see any other way. Besides the elevator.
Lucy shoved the keys in her pocket.
Not the fucking elevator.
She aimed the gun at the wood around the door handle, and emptied a clip into it. She kicked the remnants of the frame, and the door swung open.
Now that Lucy had somewhere to run, the adrenaline was back. She hiked up the stairs two at a time. The handle on the door marked 'Garage' was hot-cold. Lucy recoiled immediately, her hand throbbing and numb.
Garble sputtered through the security guard's radio. She held it up to her ear as she crept farther up the stairs.
“Officer Dave, do you read? A firefighter reported the sound of gun shots down in your sector. Dave, do you copy? We're sending someone down, over.”
The door on the flight above Lucy busted open.
“It's her, it's her!” one of the newcomer guards yelled back to someone on the first floor.
Lucy dropped everything in her hands. Forced to choose between the radio, the gun, and the folder, Lucy snatched up the folder and scrambled down the stairs, through the broken door, and into the elevator. She pushed the button for the second floor. The door wouldn't close; the elevator wouldn't move. She pushed again, frantically tapping the button with no avail.
The fire. The alarm had turned off the elevators. She pulled out the guard's keys, looking for a little one, something that would work to override the elevator system. There were so many keys! Come on, come on. The guards were getting closer, there footsteps resonating on the other side of the wall to her left. The first one appeared in the doorway, gun drawn. Lucy swung a leg up, kicking the firearm out if his hands. Then she socked him hard in the stomach. He fell back into the other guard.
Lucy inserted the override key and the door slid shut.
“For you, Dad,” she whispered, shutting her eyes.
She rested her burned hand on the cool, reflective metal. Lucy looked at herself, those same cold eyes as her father's.
For you.

Chapter Four – Yesterday

Lucy got a phone call from her father, the morning before Turkey Dinner Thursday.
“Hey Luce, I'm feeling kind of tired today, and I'm probably going to skip lunch, so you might as well stay home, okay?”
“I'll come see you anyway.”
“No, honey, don't bother. I'll see you Monday.”
“Dad.” Lucy heard the echo of another voice through the speaker. “Dad?”
There was a brief clicking and then a rustling before she heard a reply. “Lucy? Hi darling, this is your Daddy's old friend, Uncle Jimmy.”
Lucy started off of her living room couch. Uncle Jimmy. Jimmy Reaper. He and Carl had been partners before Lucy was born. Every time her father went back into the criminal game after that was because of Jimmy Reaper. “What do you want?” Lucy demanded.
“ I think you should come by for lunch today. There's something the three of us need to discuss.”
“How did you find us?”
“Just get here, would you, darling? I'm a busy guy. I'm on a schedule tighter than your ass, so let's put a move on it.”
“Lucy, don't!” was Carl's muffled cry. “Stay away!”
Lucy ran out of her apartment, to her car, and drove straight to Rutherford.
The light in her father's room was dim, the shades drawn. Uncle Jimmy smoked by the window, his face split in half by a small sliver of light from outside.
“Well, look at you, Lucy. Pretty as ever.”
Lucy went to her father's chair in the corner. It was empty. “Where's my dad, Jimmy?”
“He's fine. He's waiting to see you. I wanted to talk to you first. Take a load off.”
“Where is he?”
Lucy turned on her heel, headed for the door. A man stepped out from the shadows, big and dark, henchman size.
“Lucy, I want you to meet my friend Barry. My friend Barry thinks you should sit down too.”
Lucy hesitated, thinking about making a break for the door.
Jimmy's voice went from pleasant courtesy to a sharp-edged order. “Sit down, Lucy.”
She lowered herself into the chair, arms hinged at ninety-degree angles, ready to spring.
“How are you doing, kiddo? Living the honest life seems to be treating you well.”
“Well enough,” Lucy replied; though her body remained still, her eyes followed him on his journey across the room to the other side of her father's bed.
“So, you like it?”
“Yes. We both do.”
“Such a shame, Lucy. Such a shame.”
“What is?”
Jimmy used the wall to put out his cigar, leaving a black mark against the clean, white paint. “That you're going to come out of retirement.”
“Excuse me?” Lucy swallowed a tremorous gasp of air.
“I've for a job for you,” Jimmy told her.
“We're not doing anything for you,” Lucy protested, “and that includes coming out of retirement. Forget about it. Not going to happen.”
Jimmy grinned at Lucy, eyebrows extended whimsically as if to say, “Think again.” He said, “Oh, no, Lucy. I think you're confused. Your dad is going to stay here with me. I want you to pull the job. He's too old and stubborn. The way you used to do things was rough around the edges, but you're still as good as he was, and he used to be the best. Right now what I need is the best, and that means I need you.”
“I won't do it.”
“I think you will, Lucy. For Carl's sake.”
Lucy shot out of her seat. “What kind of sick game are you playing?” she spat. “Please, just leave us alone!”
“I can't do that, darling. You see, it's not a game at all. I'm in the hole for a lot of money, and I need that money by the weekend or else it's my head.” Jimmy stood too. He advanced toward Lucy, forcing her into a backwards tango until she was pressed against the window. “Therefore, if you don't get me what I need by the end of the day tomorrow, it's your father's head. And yours too. Got it?”
“You're a monster,” Lucy said, “an animal!”
“You and I came out of the same egg, little Lucy. I know it. You know it. Carl knows it. That's why he wanted to quit at the top of your game. Because enough is never enough for people like us; we want too much too fast and we both know that sometimes that gets us into trouble, like the trouble I'm in right now, the trouble you're going to get me out of.”
“How?” Lucy asked. The impossibility of her situation sucked her free of all coherence and she began to shake her head in desperation.
“All you need is in this envelope.” Jimmy tucked it into her inside coat pocket. “Do we understand each other?”
“I want to see him,” Lucy said.
“Briefly,” Jimmy agreed. He nodded to Barry; Barry took Lucy's arm. “Shall we head downstairs?”
Lucy pulled away from Barry's grip, and followed Jimmy left down the hallway, around, the next corner, and down into the building's lower floor. A man, tall and stoic like Barry stood in front of the last door on the right. Jimmy introduced him as Larry, and he opened the door.
Carl lay, cuffed to a bed, his eyes wavering between being awake and asleep. His skin gleamed dully under the fluorescent light. An IV attached to his arm pumped orange liquid.
Lucy knelt before the bed. “What have you done to him?”
Jimmy said, “He's under the influence of a mild sedative. God knows he would rip me apart if he were able.”
Lucy stared up at this man, this man made of silk suits and seductive threats and hired body guards. “Coward,” she said. “My dad should have ripped you apart years ago.”
“Well the past is in the past. Now what matters is the future, making sure that you and dear Daddy get to stay in it. Follow the instructions on the envelope, bring me back what I've requested, and I'll make sure that my old pal Carl doesn't accidentally overdose on his anesthetics.”
“Coward!” Lucy accused again, louder, more primal, like the roar of a caged lion.
“Would it more clearly portray my control of the situation if I did this?” Jimmy pulled a pistol from his waste band and aimed the gun at her father's head. He cocked the hammer.
Lucy lunged at her father's old friend and enemy. A swift cut from her left hand – he dropped the gun. She struck out with her right hand and smacked him across the jaw.
Strong arms pinned her shoulders from behind. Lucy swung a leg back, forcing in Larry's knee. Barry lifted her by the waist and tossed her into the corner. He drew a gun and aimed it at her.
Jimmy ran a hand over the welt on his face as he walked over. “Since you're like family to me, and we're all going through a rough patch, I'm going to forgive you. This once.” He pulled her to her feet by her hair. “Just once. I figure, I even deserved that in a lot of ways, but I'm in a tight spot, so this is the way that it has to be.”
“Lucy,” Carl rasped. “Lucy...”
She went over to him. “Dad? Dad!”
“I...said...run...”
“I came to get you.”
“Hard-head,” he whispered. It was what he'd always called her – as a child when she fell from a thirty foot tree and broke her leg, as a teenager when she'd gone to an unlicensed body artist to get her belly-button pierced, and as an adult when she took a job so far that she'd gotten her fiance killed. That was when he'd called for their promise: no more stealing, and now Lucy would have to break that promise again to keep them alive.
“Dad, I won't let anything happen to you.”
“I've had a good life, Luce, if only because I had you. Whatever he's asking for, don't do it. Get away from here. Run.”
“I'm going to do this, Dad.”
“Don't,” Carl rasped again, more urgently.
“For you, Daddy. I have to do this for you.”

Chapter Five – The Second Floor

The elevator was peacefully silent, a brief shelter from the chaos all around her. Lucy peeled her burned hand off the side wall and examined the raw spots on the inside of her fingers. They throbbed incessantly and stung at the slightest touch. Lucy hissed at the sharp pain, trying to cushion her hand with the end of her sweater sleeve.
The elevator stopped, the doors opened, and once again the sirens imposed themselves on Lucy's senses. Everything seemed to pulsate with changing pitch, her vision from hard to soft focus, the throbbing in her hand, and the rapid beating of her heart.
She stepped out of the elevator into another deserted hallway. Two office-workers crossed the other hall ahead. Lucy stepped back into the elevator's indent.
“Come on, the stairs are this way!”
Lucy ran after them, treading softly. They knew a way out. Maybe if she left with them she wouldn't be recognized. She peeked around each corner before turning and followed them beyond the tinted glass of an automatic door. Lucy realized what was on the other side. She ducked back into the hallway. No exit here. Not unless she wanted to stroll down the marble staircase and through a main lobby filled with cops, fire-fighters, and security guards.
Lucy approached the automatic door, as close as she dared before opening it. Through the glass she could see the shadows of the men moving; she heard the faint yelling of orders as guards waved the office workers through to the outside. The head of security's name was Brenner, a buzzed cut hard ass with a sharp mind and an even sharper attitude. He barked something at the guards exiting the stairwell – the two Lucy had tuned up; they carried in the unconscious Officer Dave. Lucy leaned forward more, hoping to catch some of the exchange between them.
The automatic door slid open. Brenner's eyes swiveled up toward the portal.
Lucy fought the urge to drop low. She tried to say completely still.
Brenner pointed up at the balcony. He'd seen her.
Lucy ran back to the elevator where it waited, stalled by the fire alarm. She fumbled through her stolen keys. She heard pounding footsteps a couple halls over.
“Shit, shit!” she gasped. “Come on, come on!”
Lucy found the right key and shoved it into the slot, then pressed the button for the fourth floor, just to be safe. There had to be another way out. A back door. An access shaft. A fire escape. She tried to imagine the map of the building in her mind. There must be something she'd forgotten, something she didn't notice. There had to be.

Chapter Six – Last Night

Lucy went over the contents of Jimmy's envelope at the kitchen table in her apartment. The first thing she saw was the map, titled: Federal Credit Building. She let it fall on the table, paralyzed by disbelief. Not only was this place a twenty-two story labyrinth, it was also one of the most heavily guarded buildings in the history of the United States. And here's the funny part: there wasn't even any money in it.
Like a library for the IRS, the Federal Credit Building held all the personal files of U.S. Citizens: credit files, loans, bank accounts, tax returns, and all other pieces of paperwork that drive those citizens insane on or around the date of April 15th.
She looked the map over. The building was structured like a hollow rectangle, with floating glass hallways strewn across the center space like an intense game of Ker-Plunk for the first ten floors. These were public office floors to which civilians had access. Lucy wasn't sure what went on further up.
She looked at the other items inside the envelope – a driver's license with her picture, deeming her Anna Providence, and a resume claiming her to be an audit consultant, whatever the hell that was. Last was a sheet of word-processed instructions.
Number one -You have a meeting with Richard Gray, head of the Financial Credibility Department. Job interview. Eighth floor. 9 am. Make sure to arrive before 8 am.

Chapter Seven – This Morning

Lucy woke at seven, showered, fixed her hair and makeup, and dressed in a low cut turquoise sweater, dress pants, and gold, shiny flats. Looking good but not memorable was the key to pulling a job like this, a job that was 5% research, 20% planning, and 70% improvisation.
The last piece of her outfit was a pair of lock picks, encased in a small leather pouch, that she tucked inside the waste band of her black slacks. She was almost finished pinning it in place when the ground below her began to shake. Her coffee cup on the counter fell down to the tile and shattered.
An earthquake.
Lucy went over to stand in her bedroom doorway and waited for the tremors to end. Other items came crashing down, a hanging photo of her and her father, and more dishes from the cabinets, but Lucy had no time to clean them up. After the earthquake stopped she waited thirty seconds before going down to get a cab.
She decided she would tip the driver extra in the hope that karma might look out for her today. Five years was a long time. She wasn't completely sure if she could handle another big job after five years of dormancy. She felt rusty.
“Did you feel the earthquake, miss?” The cabbie asked. “I couldn't, since I was in the car and such, but the news said it was a big one, said it was a 6.4.”
“Oh yeah, I felt it.”
“Where you headed, miss?”
“Federal Credit Building,” Lucy said.
“Got a claim to settle or something?”
Lucy shook her head. “Job interview.”
“Can't reschedule?”
“Nope.”
“I'm just saying,” he continued, “on the news they were warning about aftershocks and what not. Wouldn't go into a big building like that if I was you. I mean, I hope this job is really important.”
He pulled up to the curb; Lucy handed him the cash with a smile. “Oh yeah, it's life and death.”
“Well, I wish you good luck.”
Lucy got out of the cab. “Thank you. Have a good one.”
There stood a security checkpoint just at the edge of the courtyard. Lucy put her purse in the plastic bin and spread her arms out for the guard with the metal detector, just like the dozens of people in line before her.
This was the guard she would later ram with an office chair. His scanner buzzed when he ran it over her abdomen. “And what could you have under there?” Officer Dave asked, a light tone that was littered with suspicion.
Lucy smiled. “Belly button ring,” she said.
He grinned, looking her over, reevaluating. “Go ahead. Have a nice day.”
Lucy retrieved her purse. “You too.”
Number two – Check in. Proceed to floor four. Office of Peg Hurst, room 463. Two kids: Kayla and Donnie. Address: 216 Chestnut.
Lucy navigated the glass hallways, ramps going up and down, sometimes only straight across; the building was a labyrinth indeed. She passed a man in a hard hat and cover-alls, an electrician or utility worker of some sort.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
He responded with, “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she said. “Do you think you can help me? I'm having trouble finding the fourth floor.”
He pointed back the way she came. “Elevator's easiest way.”
“Uh, not for me,” she said.
“ You're scared of elevators?” he asked, teasing. His bright, friendly eyes took her by surprise. “You know, the elevators here are really safe. I tune them up myself.”
“All the same,” Lucy replied. “Is there another way?”
The man in the hard hat pointed back the way he came. “Make a left, then a right. There's a stairwell door next to the water fountain. Two more floors up and you'll be in the right place.”
“Thank you.”
“You have a good day now.”
Lucy climbed the four flights of stairs up to the right floor, emerging across the hall from the elevator and the front desk. The marquee across the wall read : Registered Assets Census. Lucy walked on; she smiled at the receptionists like she was entitled to be there. The door to room 463 was closed and locked. She passed by a little kitchen, inhabited by office workers consuming coffee and donuts. A woman, dressed in a business suit of all red, noticed her.
“Looking for Peg?” the woman called.
Lucy tried to distort her image with the side of the door frame. “Yes. Do you know where I can find her?”
“Peg's always late Friday mornings. Do you have an appointment?”
“Job interview.”
The woman stepped out. “Hi, I'm Stacey Rush, Branch Manager. I do all the interviews on this floor. I didn't even know that we were hiring. Are you sure you're in the right place?”
“I don't know.” Lucy shrugged. “The information desk on the first floor sent me here. I think I'll go back down and see if there was a mix up.”
Lucy went back to Peg's door and knocked. There was no answer. She scanned the hallway for security cameras, seeing only one at the far end, in the corner, facing the elevator. Lucy pulled out her lock-picks and went to work on opening Peg Hurt's office.

Chapter Eight – Waiting

Her father always said that her impatience was her only flaw when working a job. “Lucy,” he'd say, “we're not after the gingerbread man. We're after money, and money don't have any feet. That's what's great about it. It stays put.”
When learning under her father's wing, she'd practiced waiting patiently, she'd practiced timing and strategy. For Lucy though, it was never really about money; it was about the thrill. Carl planned heists carefully. Lucy loved to rush into them head first and improvise.
She attempted only one job without daddy dearest, six years ago, an overnight bank job. The night before the robbery, Lucy and her boyfriend Topher stowed away in the building adjacent to the bank and drilled a crawl hole through the bathroom wall.
Lucy met Topher as a teenager, when they'd seen each other shop-lifting in a department store, and they'd been madly in love ever since – the kind of love shared by two people so similar that they got on each others nerves constantly, but also appreciated each other like no one else could. It was a love that they'd decided to make last a lifetime.
“It's not like we're going to live long anyway,” said Topher at the end of his proposal, where he knelt there in the dimly lit bathroom, a black shadow against the cold, white tile. “So, what do you say? Wanna, I don't know, maybe, marry me?”
Lucy jumped into his arms, giggling “Yes, yes! Of course I'll marry you!”
They took turns manning the drill until the hole was finished. Lucy rolled over onto her side, smiling at her new fiance. “Now all we can do is wait until six when the manager gets here.”
Topher searched her blank eyes. “You hate this, don't you?”
“Hate what?”
“Waiting.”
“Yes, I hate waiting. Oh man, do I hate just sitting here and doing nothing. I want action, Topher, you know? Dad's always saying be patient, wait things out, but I just want to move. Chase and be chased.”
Topher rolled over on top of Lucy and kissed the inside of her neck. “I've got a productive and active way to pass the time. Since you hate waiting, I figure we should get married as soon as possible. How's tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow sounds wonderful.” Lucy pulled him closer, the only thing good and pure about her wretched life, and they made love on that cold bathroom tile, both warmed and comforted by their unity of passion.

Chapter Nine – Peg is Always Late on Fridays

Impatience was all Lucy felt, waiting in Peg Hurt's office. She went over the rest of Jimmy's instructions in her head.
Number three – Persuade Peg to pull bank account of Raoul Bender and change the balance to twenty million dollars. Have Peg print out the new account balance. Demand a file called The Warner File.
“Coward,” Lucy muttered to herself. Jimmy was never one to involve himself in any kind of dirty work, but Lucy figured even cyber-thievery was below him. She liked stealing cold hard cash more than computer work. Hacking and stealing, stealing with a computer, presented no challenge. It was just numbers on a screen; they didn't have smell or a feel like cash did. In Lucy's mind, they didn't even have a value.
Number four – Proceed to seventh floor, IT control room. Destroy system. All records must remain untraceable. Make sure there's nothing left.
Number Five – Exit building. Enter black SUV across street from Southwest Entrance. You must have the changed account and Warner File. Lack of one or both means definite termination.
Five was the last step on the list. Peg hadn't yet arrive, so Lucy proceeded to go over the map in her head – IT room, stairwells, points of escape. Then she polished her lock-picks before returning them to her belt. She filed her nails with a letter opener. Then she whistled Tom Petty's “Free-Falling” three times through. A tapping foot and twitching fingers – Lucy was starting to get antsy. The job began to feel more and more like a set-up.
A shadow passed in front of the door. Lucy slunk back into the shadows, tucking the letter opener in her sleeve.
Not one silhouette but two entered the office, tumbled in rather, a heaving mass of wandering hands and sharp breaths.
So that's why Peg was always late on Fridays.
Peg's friend kicked the door shut behind them, then he picked Peg up and sat her on the desk. Lucy went to the door and turned the lock. At the sound of the click, both heads shot up.
Lucy flipped the light switch. “Excuse me, would you mind covering yourselves up?”
Peg straightened her skirt, eyes aimed apologetically at Lucy. “I'm sorry. Did I schedule an appointment with you this morning?”
“Anna Providence, Audit Consultant.” Lucy extended a hand.
Peg's friend diverted his attention from buttoning his shirt to look at Lucy. He accidentally missed a button, so his collar appeared relentlessly crooked. “I have a nine o'clock with an Anna Providence.”
Lucy started. She recovered quickly by clearing her throat, but it was too late. They were both increasingly suspicious. “Richard Gray?” Lucy offered her hand to him as well. “Huge building, small world.”
When he took it, leering with this teeth bared as if to wonder, “Well, what do we have here?”, Lucy twisted his wrist and pulled his thumb back; with a sharp yelp of pain, he fell to his knees. Lucy withdrew the letter opener and held it to his neck. “You know Peg, I could pretend that I have this meeting scheduled with you and your friend Dick here, I could play nice and try and manipulate you without putting you through all this, but I am in a bit of a rush, and I figure since I'm going to need to get mean eventually, I might as well be mean now so we can start off our relationship honestly.”
Peg collapsed into her desk chair, bewildered, half-expecting Lucy to smile and say, “You're on candid camera!” But Lucy didn't say that.
Lucy said, “Now Peg, there are two things that I need you to do for me, and I know that you're going to do them, because if you don't, then I'm going to slice Dick open like a delivery from H&R Block. Do we understand each other?”
Peg didn't respond save for a slight opening and closing of her mouth.
“Peg,” Lucy snapped. “Peggy?” She pressed the letter opener harder against Dick's skin.
He turned his neck sideways, grinding his teeth. “Whatever it is,” Richard Gray said, “we'll do it.”
“Margaret, the first thing I need you to do is turn on your computer. Now.”

Chapter Ten – Show Time

Topher woke Lucy at five-thirty. “Come on, angel,” he whispered, “it's show time.”
She crawled through the little tunnel first, then he passed the guns and the bags to her. They waited, crouched by the bathroom door for the tell-tale beeping that would indicate the manager had deactivated the alarm.
“Ready?” Lucy asked her fiance.
“I'm ready.”
“Love me?”
“You know it.”
They heard the first of six beeps, the manager's code being pressed into the system. Then waited a beat before coming through the door.
The manager turned, all openings wide – eyes, nostrils flared, mouth agape.
Lucy, the brawn of the operation, hit the manager across the mouth with her gun. He went down. She pulled him up by the scruff of his neck.
Topher, the brains of the operation, said, “Bet you know what we're here for.”
The manager nodded.
“Listen up, Mr. Clifford. This is going to be really easy. I only need three things from you and we walk away from this clean, and I know you're going to give them to me, because if you don't, my partner is going to cut the thread on your existence. Your wife Marie. Your children Taylor, Johnnie, and Isabel. You live on Bayview Dr. and your kids go to Washington Elementary. Cooperate with us and everyone sees their next birthday. Do we understand each other?”
The manager nodded again.
“I need your keys, I need your codes, and I need your all-clear. The quicker the better.”

Chapter Eleven – The Warner File

Peg opened Raoul Bender's account and changed the account balance without delay. “It's done,” she said. “Twenty million dollars.”
“Good,” Lucy said. “One more thing.”
“Why are you doing this?” Peg asked, not a plea, but a simple question. “Why here? And why me? I'm an entry level assistant. All of my entries get checked by -”
A knock on the door.
“Peg, are you in there?”
“Stacey,” Peg said. “Stacey oversees all of my data entry.”
“Shit.” Lucy gritted her teeth. She turned towards the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peg's hand levitate toward the phone. Lucy pointed the letter opener at Peg. “Stop. Touching that phone will be a mistake you'll have to live with for the rest of your life, and the rest of your death too. You decide how quickly it's coming, Peggy. Don't touch that phone.”
Richard struggled in Lucy's grasp.
“Peg, Peg? Open this door. I need to talk to you about this account change.”
“Just one second,” Peg called out. “I don't think you can hurt me,” she said to Lucy.
“Of course not,” Lucy said, “because I need you.” Lucy jabbed an elbow into the back of Dick's neck. Unconscious, he slumped into the corner behind the desk. “It would be much easier for me to hurt your kids, Kayla and Donnie. Much, much easier. 216 Chestnut Way, is that right? I'm sure they're home right now, aren't they? Couldn't go to school because of the earthquake.”
“ Peg, what's going on?”
“Hold on, Stacey,” Peg said, voice trailing off into a gasp.
“You're right, Peg. I can't hurt you, but I can hurt them. Don't give me a reason, alright? Help me get Dick into this chair.”
They pulled Dick into one of the chairs across the desk from Peg, and Lucy sat in the other. “Now let her in. Make sure she comes inside, and close the door behind her.”
Peg swung the door open and bolted down the hallway. Lucy swore. She tried to catch Peg's sleeve, but it was too late. Cyber-thievery or not, this job was turning out to be one hell of a challenge.
“What the...” Stacey Rush watched Peg go, then turned towards Lucy.
Lucy yanked her inside.
“Hey! Excuse me!”
“Sorry, Stacey,” Lucy said. She held the letter opener against her torso. “I need you to come inside with me.” Her voice had a new edge to it, an urgency. Now, instead of an hour, she was working with a window of a couple of minutes. Lucy sat the branch manager in the empty chair. “My appointment was on this floor after all.”
Stacey looked at the unconscious Dick, the desperate woman before her wielding an office tool. “Well, this is strange.”
Lucy rushed over to the computer to print the account information. “Tell me, Stacey. Do you know anything about something called the Warner File?”
Stacey shook her head. “I haven't heard of any Warner File.”
Dick began to shift around in his seat, eyes shut, chuckling lightly. “So that's what you're here for.” The laughing grew louder, from a fit of giggles to a booming guffaw.
“Do you know what it is? Where it is?” Lucy snatched the account information off of the printer deck. “Tell me!”
The building's loudspeaker went off, a voice saying, “Will Mr. Warner please report to the fourth floor?”
Warner?
Dick began to laugh even harder. Lucy shook him. “What is it? What does that mean?”
“It's code,” Stacey said. “Warner is the code for a high-level security breach.”
Lucy hurled herself out of the office and down the hall to the nearest staircase. Does this mean that the Warner file doesn't exist? Lucy wondered. Did Jimmy set me up? That way he gets his money and I go to jail for life.
Guards exited the elevator in front of her. Lucy wheeled around the other way, leaping through the people at the donut and coffee kitchenette.
One of the guards yelled, “Stop! Security! There's nowhere to run, Miss Providence.”
He was wrong. There's always somewhere to run.
The ground shook below her and Lucy sprawled to the ground. An aftershock from this morning's quake. There was another slight jump, then nothing. She got up and kept running.
Lucy ducked around another corner, a dead-end with one door at the end. She ran to it, pulled it open and found herself face to face with Sergeant Brenner, head of security.

Chapter Twelve – Chase and be Chased

Topher asked the bank manager, Tom Clifford, how long it would be until the rest of the bank employees arrived.
“My Assistant Manager is late, actually,” Mr. Clifford said. “He's supposed to unlock before me.”
Lucy and Topher shared a look, the intensely communicative kind, and Lucy went straight to the window. “Parking lot's empty.” She shoved Clifford into the corner. “You sure about that?”
“After your assistant, how long?” Topher asked.
“Fifteen minutes, give or take.”
“I think we should go now,” Lucy said.
Topher shook his head. “We wait for the assistant. Then we use the fifteen minute window.”
“We don't know if he's even coming!”
“Damn it Lucy! Be patient for once in your life. You're smarter than that.”
Lucy walked over to her fiance and shoved him in the chest. “Are you saying I can't handle this job? You sound like my dad!”
“Your dad would wait.”
“I'm not him. You're not him! He is not in charge here!” Lucy snapped. She paced in front of the vault door. “Open it.”
“Wait,” Topher pleaded. “Five minutes. I don't want to marry you in a holding cell. Be patient. If it makes you feel better, we can have Clifford call the Assistant Manager and confirm that he's on his way.”
Lucy pursed her lips and crossed her arms across her chest, a stubborn woman, but moveable nonetheless. “Fine. Five minutes. Make him call.”
Topher kissed her forehead. “Alright.” Then he turned back to the corner where they'd left the manager. But the manager was not there.
The happy couple had been so busy arguing that neither of them had noticed Tom Clifford slink away.
“Shit. Where is he?”
Tom's bleeding nose left a thin trail of blood that followed his progression under a teller's booth and to the nearest big, red panic button.
Lucy started for the manager, gun drawn, ready to blow his head open. Topher grabbed her free hand and pulled. “No cigar today, honey. We need to go.”
She growled, still moving towards Tom Clifford, the man who made it impossible for her to prove to her father that she was as good as he. Topher pulled harder. “No need to add murder to your rap-sheet. Come on, Luce! Let's go.”
She ran with him, past the bank manager, past the vault they hadn't opened and the safety deposit boxes they hadn't broken into. The sound of sirens was getting more common to Lucy, like incessant ringing in her ears. They never sounded as far away as they were, and they were never so close as when she thought she had time.
She and Topher ran through the back door and into the range of two armed police cruisers. Four cops. Four guns. No way out.
Topher raised their joined hands in surrender. “Better luck next time, huh?”

Chapter Thirteen – The Man in the Hard Hat

Lucy's return to the fourth floor was kicked off by a sudden reunion. The man with the hard hat, who'd given her directions earlier, knelt there, across from the elevator, his arm shoved into the underbelly of an air conditioning unit. The elevator bell rang, and he looked up.
“You!” the man in the hard hat said. “Hey, you're not supposed to be here. In case you haven't noticed, the earth is shaking, this building's on fire, and security's looking for you.”
“I need to get out of here,” she said. She stepped out of the elevator.
He stood, wiping the grease off his hands. “I know that you need to get out of here. You're going the wrong way; that's what I'm telling you!”
“How do you know who I am?”
“Everyone who works here knows who you are. You're the only person who's ever successfully infiltrated this place. Trust me, I know.” The man in the hard hat pulled his gloves off, and extended a hand to Lucy. “I'm Scott. Anna Providence?”
“My name is Lucy.”
“Lucy Providence, then.”
Lucy backpedaled towards the elevator. “It doesn't matter. Look, I don't have time for this.”
“Great,” Scott said, “me neither. What I have is problems.” He picked up his tool box and started walking down the hall. “I know I told you those elevators are dependable, but you really shouldn't use one unless you have no other choice.”
Lucy's center of gravity vacillated between the elevator and the hallway, halted by trepidation. She jogged off after Scott. “Hey, hey! Are you saying you know another way out?”
“Miss Providence, I know every way out.”
They turned past a row of conference rooms, and Scott stopped in front of another air conditioning module.
“It's Lucy.”
“Forgive me, Lucy.” He pulled open a panel on the bottom of the machine. With his free hand, he snapped open his toolbox and pulled out a wrench. “I'm sorry I'm not as eager to help you as I was earlier this morning. Thing is, I liked you more then.”
“What are you talking about?” Lucy glanced down the hallway, straining to hear if anyone was approaching.
“I don't think you're really listening to me here,” Scott said. His face was turned away from her, and the sirens were giving Lucy a headache.
“What?” she yelled. “I can't hear you!”
Scott turned back to her. He sighed, resigned. Then he handed her the wrench. He pointed to the globe above them, the spinning red light. “I'll give you a boost.”
Lucy stepped up on his knee and smashed the light in. Shards of glass rained down around them. The speaker of the siren shuddered and died. She shut her eyes; frightened by the glass, Lucy flailed her arms and let gravity take her.
But she didn't hit the ground. Scott caught her across the shoulders and lowered her the rest of the way. “Much better,” he said. He brushed pieces of glass out of her hair. “Guess I should have lent you the hard hat too.” He took the wrench and went back to tinkering with the air conditioner.
“What did you say?” Lucy asked.
“I said that I didn't really think you were listening to me. I've been re-conning here for six months. I had to spend another six months in trade school just to qualify for this job. I wasn't even allowed on the upper floors until today because they needed me to deal with this. This was gonna be my big score, a whole year in the making. Then you, Lucy Providence, or whatever your name is, walk in and secure a twenty million dollar transfer in less than an hour.” Scott looked up at her, grinning. “I thought we were friends, Lucy.”
“Wait, you -”
“Also have intentions of robbing this place? Yeah, I did. But they're all shot to hell now, thank you very much.”
Lucy gave in to one of her nervous habits; she started to pace, ten even steps back and forth, eyes lowered, hands clasped together. “Look, I'm sorry I stole your score or glory or whatever; I didn't come here by choice. If we are friends, could you please just tell me how to get back downstairs and out? Please.”
“Hold on a minute,” Scott replied. He tossed back the wrench. “Can you hand me that saw there, in my box?”
Lucy obliged. “What are you doing?”
“I'm doing the best I can to keep this place from going up in flames.”
“I thought the fire was contained in the garage.”
“It is. But fire's not my problem yet. The fire is a byproduct of my problem, actually.”
“What do you mean?” Lucy snapped. “What are you talking about?”
He spared her an inquisitively demeaning look. “I'm talking about the earthquake,” he said. “The guy who was supposed to turn off the main gas lines forgot the one that powers the air conditioners. That's what caused the fire in the garage. The main air conditioning unit leaked enough gas since the quake that when a car started near the source, the gas ignited and exploded. Now these extremely dangerous vapors are flowing up through the whole system, floor by floor, threatening to explode at any second. It's my job to go floor by floor and cut off each machine from the main supply before they go kaboom.”
“Oh my -”
Scott took Lucy's arm, and pulled her around the next corner. “God? Not here at the moment. You can leave a message after the beep though. I'm sure he'll get it, oh, I don't know, after we're all dead.” He pushed her towards an unmarked door – a stairwell. “I would love to escort you down myself, but I have a building to save, so if you don't mind. I wish you the best of luck.”
“Thank you,” Lucy said. Then she took off down the stairs.

Chapter Fourteen – The Warner File

Sergeant Brenner made sure to introduce himself before seizing Lucy's shoulder and slamming her face first into the ground. “Anna Providence. Welcome to the Federal Credit Building, the last sliver of civilization that you'll ever see for the rest of your pathetic little lifetime.”
They cuffed Lucy and dragged her to the security office on the tenth floor.
“What a low level of thief,” Brenner spat. He walked ahead of her, constantly looking back to showcase his disgust. “A letter opener on an entry level employee? A twenty million dollar transfer to a registered account? Such an amateur you are – no fun to catch, not one iota of a challenge. You know, lady, me and my boys here at the Federal Credit Building appreciate a real challenge. Keeps our skills sharp.”
Lucy said, “You're making a mistake.”
Brenner kept on talking. “Every once in a while we catch a desperate low-life like yourself, another simpleton foolish enough to even try to do what you've done. I wonder sometimes how much more entertaining it would be if I let you go, let you run around like a rat in a maze, trying to avoid us, just some colossal game of run and seek. Sometimes I think that would be a load of fun.”
“Why don't you try it then?” Lucy suggested. “Let me go.”
Once in the security office, Brenner reclaimed custody of Lucy. He walked her past a row of desks and monitors to a windowless door – an interrogation room: one table, two chairs, one security camera.
Brenner said, “ You know, I would...” Sergeant Brenner paused; a member of his staff handed her a sheet of paper with Lucy's picture on it. “...Lucy. I really would, but the catch is, if I let you loose to wreak havoc on the facilities here, my men would be authorized to use whatever force necessary to subdue you. An automatic fire at will, if you will. You could be holding up a white flag, a big sign that says you're sorry, and they'd shoot you on sight, and the only one to blame would be yourself. That's why no one gets away with robbing this place. Because our security doesn't deal in guilt. Can't redeem the unrepentant. No need.”
Lucy scanned the small cement room. No way she could force her way out. Even if she could physically match Brenner, there was a camera and thirty more armed men on the other side of the door. She was going to have to do what she was never really good at; Lucy was going to have to talk her way out of this. “You can quit the intimidating speech tactics. I'm innocent, sarge. A pawn. I've been set up.”
He placed the rap-sheet on the table in front of her. “From what I see on this piece of paper, you're the exact opposite of a pawn, Lucy. From what I see here, you're smart enough to do this on your own, and you have been for quite some time now.”
“I steal cash,” Lucy replied. “I mean, I stole cash. You can see on that paper I've been out of it for five years.”
“What I see is that you haven't been caught or implicated in five years. Until today.”
“Someone forced me to do this. You have to believe me. I was done with that life until the day before yesterday. Look, they have my father; they gave me an envelope and told me to follow the steps or they would kill him. You want the truth. There's the truth.”
Brenner chuckled. A nasty, cruel chuckle. The black-hearted, empty-minded chuckle of the cat with a mouse securely cornered. “Lucy. Honey. I'm not after the truth. I'm not a police man. I'm not a detective. I don't care why you forced two office workers to make that twenty million dollar transfer. I don't care who sent you. I don't care if God sent you. I care about punishing the red-handed, and that, little girl, is exactly what you are.”
“You don't understand! They're going to kill my father! They said make the transfer and bring them something called the Warner File. You want to punish me, fine. But please let me go finish what I came to do.”
Sergeant Brenner blinked at Lucy an interminable amount of times. Then he sat down in the chair across from her. “Did you just say that you came for the Warner File?”
Lucy nodded.
“You're after the Warner File?” Brenner asked again, leaning further and further over the table.
“Yes.”
He stared another interminable amount of time, blinking continuously. “Well, that changes things, Lucy. That really changes things.”
Then Sergeant Brenner got up and marched out of the room.

Chapter Fifteen – Honor Amongst Thieves

After all the bad luck Lucy had been experiencing that day, she'd considered running into Scott again the first right turn on the road. She bounded down that stairwell, half-smiling, a child that thought she had already gotten away with it, whatever it was. But the bad luck wasn't gone yet. In fact, it had no plans of going anywhere. It intercepted Lucy's path as a patrol of six guards, marching up the stairs. The first two ran ahead, tailing Lucy back up.
Lucy, Brenner's proverbial rat in a maze, was faster than all of the guards but one. He caught her in a flying tackle just outside the fourth floor door, and the both of them tumbled through, right past where Scott still knelt by the air conditioner. He stood, hands on hips, smirking and shaking his head.
Lucy kneed that guard in the groin, and slid out from under him. The other five approached right behind. Two advanced while the other three drew arms as back-up. Lucy's eyes darted from the guards to Scott and back. Then she took a running step against the wall to her right, countered her weight against the hard surface, and launched herself behind two of the men with guns. Two hits each and both were down. Shots went off. The third, a rookie of some kind, maybe just a bad shot, or someone who possessed no compunction against shooting a woman, didn't get Lucy save for grazing her right arm. His gun clicked empty. He was out of bullets. He began to search in his belt for a replacement clip.
A fourth guard drew on Lucy. She stepped into the range of his arm, and twisted his hand back, unfolding the gun into her own. In mere moments she was behind Scott, gun to his back. “Stay away,” she warned. “I'll kill him.”
Scott sighed. “This is a strange friendship that we share, Lucy Providence.”
“That's not my name.”
“Hardly matters right now, does it?”
One of the guards ordered to Lucy to put the gun down. “Let him go now. No one else needs to get hurt.”
“Come on,” Lucy said. She nudged Scott down the hallway.
Scott didn't move. “Not without my toolbox.”
“Fine. Grab it.”
They backed down the hallway, Scott with his toolbox in hand, Lucy with Scott in hand, all the way into the elevator. The guards followed cautiously, pleading for Lucy to stand down.
“Not gonna happen,” Lucy snapped. “Walk away.” She tried to use her free hand to retrieve the elevator keys.
Scott said, “Here, Lucy, let me help with that.” He slipped out of her grip, taking the gun with him. He aimed it at Lucy's head. “There. Now you can make it work.”
The guards looked at each other, not sure how to respond.
“Stay away,” Scott said, wheezing a little at the humor of it all. “I'll kill her! Ha, ha, ha.” The elevator doors slid shut. Scott saluted them with the gun, then he handed it to Lucy. “Fifth floor, please.”
“Why did you -”
“What do you mean why did I? Why did you, hm? What were you doing? A criminal taking another criminal hostage?” Scott exclaimed. “What nonsense!”
“Nonetheless,” Lucy said. “I can't let you go now. You have to get me out or -”
With ridiculous ease, Scott snatched the gun back. “There is honor amongst thieves you know. You could just ask for help. You don't have to go all Jack Bauer on me, alright?”
Lucy pushed the button for the fifth floor. “I'm sorry,” she ventured. “Will you please help me get out of here?”
“I'll make a deal with you. If you help me modify the air conditioning units on each floor so they don't explode, I'll get you out of here.”
“But you have to keep moving up. How can that possibly work?”
Scott bent down on one knee and pulled open his toolbox. He withdrew a backpack, heavy, black, medium sized. “Baby, I've had an exit strategy since the first day I started working here.”
“Is that a parachute?”
“That's right.”
“Your plan is to just fly off the roof.”
“I'm no Peter Pan, Lucy. And you're no Wendy. What we're going to do is jump, pray, and hopefully, float. You in? Tell me now. I've got to finish. Time is short. If you're going to trust me on anything Lucy, you can trust me on this: the only way out is up. Yes or no, Lucy? Yes or no?”
Lucy looked into his eyes – complete opposites of hers, so alive, so honest, so like Topher's they emitted some spell-binding, blinding light. She could trust those eyes. She hoped that she could trust those eyes. “Alright. I'll do it.”
The elevator lights flickered, then they went off for good and the elevator stopped moving.
“Damn it, Lucy! This is why I said no elevators.” Lucy remained still. She heard Scott rummaging in his tool box. Then they had light, a small electric lantern. “And this is why I needed to bring my toolbox.”
Lucy ran her hands over her face. The bad luck hadn't left her yet, that was for sure.
“Alright.” Scott pulled a wad of fabric out of his toolbox – a second pair of cover-alls. “Putting these on would be a good idea. Sorry I don't have another hard hat. You'll have to take your chances.”
Lucy snorted. “I've been doing that all day.” She stepped into the canvas suit, began to pull it up over her shoulders. She winced when it brushed against her arm.
Scott stopped her. Gently he pulled away her torn sleeve to assess the damage the bullet had done where it nicked her skin. “I think I have a band-aid somewhere,” he murmured.
“No time,” Lucy replied. “You said it yourself.”
“Guess not. Still, I can't have you fainting on me or anything. Hold on just one second.”
“I. Do not. Faint.”
“You're. A. Girl.” Scott ripped off the rest of Lucy's sleeve and proceeded to wrap it around the cut. “No more chance taking for you. Now let's get the hell out of this elevator, hm?”
Lucy couldn't understand how Scott could still have a sense of humor in the midst of multiple disasters, but she was grateful he did. Disasters or not, smiles were rare for her, laughter was rare for her. In this dark, quiet elevator, in a situation where every moment felt like her last, he'd given her both.
“Luckily,” Scott continued, “a power outage shuts off all the gas flow to the air conditioners. The need to modify them doesn't change, but it becomes less urgent because there's no power source to spark imminent doom. Unluckily, the longer we stay in here, the easier it is for the dumbos in navy to find you, so we need to get going.”
“You'd think they'd know about the gas problem,” Lucy said.
“Oh, they do.”
“Then why would they keep trying to find me when they know how dangerous the building is?”
Scott pulled a crow bar out of his toolbox. “Stand back,” he said. “Lucy, once again, I don't think you completely understand the gravity of your situation. Sergeant Brenner, head of security, Captain Hard-ass, I'm assuming you know who I mean?”
“Yeah?”
“He'll have his goons chase you into hell itself, angel. No joke. That man thinks two seconds ahead all the time, and since you got away from him, I just know that all he can think about right now is catching you, no matter what.” Scott lifted the crow bar and wedged it into the crease in the metal door. Lucy held up the lantern so he could see better. “You know, right after you escaped, they told everyone on staff what you did and that we needed to stop you, yadda yadda, basic information, but I just realized they never told us how you got out of there. How did you escape Brenner's clutches? I'd really like to know.” Scott grunted as he pushed on the bar. Slowly, the crease grew bigger. “He interviews all employees before they're officially hired. I don't know what he did for everyone else, but when I went in there he just stared at me for five minutes. That's it. Just watched me for five minutes, then told me I could go. I mean, what the hell is that?”
Scott got the elevator open wide enough to see that they were six feet below the fifth floor. “Bummer,” he said. Then he pushed further into the crease, using his body to block the doors from closing. “Lucy, you're going to have to climb up there. Use my toolbox as a stool, then my shoulder. Ready?”
Lucy nodded. She got up to the fifth floor, then she strained to hold the doors open, bracing one leg against the door in front of her and clutching her injured arm. She looked down the dark shaft. The expanse of air startled her, pulling her almost, calling her to the darkness. Scott handed her the toolbox first. It weighed more than she did. She started to tip back into the elevator. Scott had to jump and push to vault the box into Lucy's lap. She rolled it off. Scott jumped the elevator sidewall and grabbed Lucy's good arm. Both criminals flexed, and Lucy pulled Scott up.
“Come on then, Lucy, let's get back to work.”
Lucy held the air conditioning vent open so Scott could work his magic. First he cut a metal hose, then quickly he would smash it shut with his wrench in multiple places to stop the gas from seeping through. “Take away the danger factor and it's the easiest job in the world.”
“Sure,” Lucy agreed. “Yeah.”
“So,” Scott ventured. He hoisted his tool box onto his shoulder and waltzed down the hallway.
“What?” Lucy asked.
“You never told me, how did you get away from Brenner?”
“What's it matter?”
“I want to know. I figure telling me is the least you could do.”
“I guess it is.”
“So,” Scott pressed. They jogged down the hall, and he knelt in front of the next A.C. Module. “How?”
Lucy leaned over to hold the vent open. “Have you ever heard of something called the Warner File?”
Scott paused shuffling in his toolbox a moment; he looked down at the green diamond carpet, then said. “No. I haven't.” He nodded at the plastic file, clutched in Lucy's white-knuckled hands. “That it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is it really important or something?”
“I think it might be.”

Chapter Sixteen – Rat in a Maze

Lucy waited in the interrogation room for ten minutes. She fidgeted within the parameters of her handcuffs. She tried to figure out an escape plan. She watched the security camera, the blinking red light that she used as a method of counting seconds.
The blinking red light stopped blinking. The camera was off. Lucy stared at it a moment, wondering why. She decided not waste time. She whipped her lock-picks out of her waistband. Brenner reentered. She slid her hands under the table.
Brenner tossed a plastic file down before her. “The Warner File,” he said, “what do you want with it?”
Lucy looked at the plain, blank folder. “I want to save my father's life. Nothing else.”
“What do you want with it?” Brenner repeated. “Now I want the truth. Why have you come for this? Tell me why!”
“I don't know anything else!”
Brenner pulled his gun out of it's holster and cocked the hammer. He aimed it at her head. “Tell me why.”
Lucy shook. The sound of her lock picks tittering against the bottom surface of the metal table caught Brenner's attention.
“What -”
Lucy felt the chambers in the lock give free. She pulled her hand out and slammed the table upwards, between her and Brenner. The gun fired, the bullet denting the table right before her face, but not making it's way through. Lucy swiped her hand across Brenner's, knocking the gun loose, then back the other way, hitting him across the face. He lunged forward at her and yanked her down by her jacket sleeve. The both of them fell down across the over-turned table. Brenner locked an arm around Lucy's throat and squeezed.
“Why do you want the Warner File?” he wheezed. “Tell me now.”
She sprung out her legs, tugging with no avail at Brenner's iron arm. Darkness frayed her vision. Her heart began to slow, and then the door opened. Brenner released immediately at the sight of the guard.
“Sir?” the guard asked, hand gravitating toward his gun.
Lucy elbowed Brenner in the stomach. She launched herself at the guard. He drew and shot, missing her. She grabbed Brenner's chair and slammed it down on guard. He crumpled to the floor. Lucy turned back to find the head of security, unconscious and bleeding; the guard's missed shot had hit him, in the torso, somewhere near the spleen.
Lucy tucked Brenner's gun into her slacks. Then she grabbed the Warner File off the table and stepped outside the room. Two guards stood at the crossroads of hallway that led to the front office and out to freedom. They turned and looked at Lucy. She shot at them and they ducked behind the wall. Lucy ran around the other way.
She came across a fire alarm and reached out to pull it, hoping the chaos would give her an avenue of escape. Bells began to clang and red light to coat the walls. A full scale, “Get the hell out of here.” Lucy started, staring down at her hand. She hadn't yet pulled the fire alarm. It wasn't her. But she had no time to think about it, she rushed into the office, keeping her head down, following the crowds of people as they filed down the stairs to safety.
She stopped at the seventh floor – home of the IT control room – the last place she had to go. All she had to do now was kill the system and get out alive. Finding the control room was easy enough. It was labeled. And locked of course. No huge problem here, save for the dozens of people walking by to get to the stairs. Someone brushed against Lucy. The Warner File slid out of her hands, trampled under the feet of the parade. Lucy tried to swim through them, diving for the folder with no luck whatsoever. Then she tripped. She hit her head against the wall and passed out.

Chapter Seventeen – There Can be No Records Left

Lucy had never made it into the IT Room on the seventh floor. Until now. Scott had keys, and he had to go in because the IT Room had it's own air conditioning unit.
“That explains why your head's bleeding.” Scott said. He scratched his ear with the edge of his wrench. “Here,” he handed her a rag. “you should probably clot that or something.”
Lucy held the rag against her temple.
Scott gave her the hard hat. “Based on the day you're having, I think you should have this after all.”
“If I wanted to erase all the files in this system, how would I do that?” Lucy asked.
“I don't know. These panels are huge. Backed up and looped and titanium cased or whatever the hell they do to make them impenetrable. Blowing them up might do the trick.” Scott joked.
“That's it,” Lucy said. “Why not just let the place burn, Scott? All the records will be erased, and they'll think that I died.”
“I can't do that,” Scott said.
Lucy let the A.C. vent close on his hand.
“Hey!”
“Why not? It's the best way out.”
“Why not? Let's start with the fact that this building isn't empty,” Scott snapped. “I'm a criminal too Lucy. You need to escape, and I get where you're coming from. But I'm also a good guy, and I'm not going to let this place burn if I can do something to stop it.”
Lucy went to the nearest panel and started yanking wires. Scott grabbed her hand. She looked up at him, at the harsh disappointment that now shielded his eyes. “Stop it Lucy. If you make a spark this whole place will go up in flames.”
She flung his arm off. “I don't have a choice.”
“Are you so greedy, so heartless that you would let innocent people die just so you can get away with that file and that transfer? Just because someone is an obstacle to you doesn't mean that they're not human. It doesn't mean that they don't have a life Lucy! They have people in their life who love them. Any life is worth way more than twenty million dollars.”
“Scott, I'm not – you don't understand -”
“Get out!” he yelled. “I'm not helping you anymore.”
“You're right. No amount of money is worth any life to me. But I'm not stealing this money for me. If I don't destroy the computer memory in this room and make it out with the Warner File, the man who forced me to do this is going to kill my father.” Tears escaped from Lucy's eyes. She wiped at them with the other side of the bloody rag.
Scott stared at Lucy. “Are you telling me the truth?”
Lucy held up a hand. “Quiet. Do you hear that?” Footsteps. Approaching fast. She pulled the gun out of her cover-alls and hid in the corner behind one of the large processing machines.
The door flew open and two guards entered, guns drawn. Scott held up his wrench in humorous surrender. “Problem, gentlemen?”
“Where is she?”
“Providence? The bitch that took out five of you guys and threatened my life? Haven't seen her since.”
“I don't believe you.”
Lucy began to step out into the open, gun at the ready.
Scott stopped her with a brief glance. “I'm telling the truth. I don't know where she is.”
“What did she do after she pulled you into that elevator?”
“Do you mean before or after she seduced me?”
“We are on high alert. This is not the time for jokes!”
“She took my hard hat, hit me in the back of the head, and left me in the elevator unconscious. When I came to I went back to work on the A.C. units, which is what I should be doing now. So, if you don't mind, I'll get back to work.” He turned his back on them. “You should get downstairs. It's dangerous up here. Place could explode at any second.”
“Let's go back downstairs and report to the Sergeant,” the second guard said. “if it ain't safe, maybe we shouldn't keep looking.”
They retreated down the stairwell.
“You see that?” Scott said. “You don't need to severely injure everyone who gets in your way.” “I'm not normally like this,” Lucy said, “not since I quit five years ago. I'm not a killer. I'm just desperate.”
Scott nodded. “I see that,” he replied with a sigh. “So I'm going to offer you a deal, Luce. I'm going to assume that all the upper floors are evacuated, which makes it easier for me to help you. But you have to help me help you, because I need two sets of hands to do this, and -”
“Yes?” Lucy asked. “And?”
“You have to go to dinner with me tomorrow.”
“Excuse me?”
“Since the upper floors are evacuated, I have no problem letting this place blow, at least this section of it anyway. I can contain the explosion between the seventh and the tenth floor.” Scott reached into his tool box and pulled out a rolled up paper, a blue print of the building. “See, the second main A.C. unit is on the tenth floor. From there I can cut off the gas flow from the rest of the building. The seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth floors, if exposed to a spark, will definitely explode, but with a contained explosion, anyone below us should still have time to get out. The IT room will burn and your records will become ash. All we have to do is set it off on this floor, run up to the tenth and seal the main unit, strap on that parachute, kick in a window, and jump. And you have to go to dinner with me. Tomorrow evening. I'll buy.”
“Are you serious?”
Scott grinned. He tapped the hard hat on her head. “Lucy, darling. I never kid. Now come on, do we have a deal or not? We're running out of time. It's like I said the only way out is up, and this way we both get what we want.”
Lucy blinked, mouth agape, shocked; her eyes watered with gratitude. “Thank you, thank you!”
“Don't get all mushy on me now, we still have work to do. First we make sure no one is on any of the next three floors.” Scott set off into a jog, yelling: “Is anyone here? Hello! Can anyone hear me?”
They ran briskly through the eighth floor and the ninth floor. They found no one. Lucy followed Scott back down to the seventh floor.
Scott reached into his tool box. “Would you like to light the match, Lucy?”
“You go ahead.”
He reached out and held her hand. “You have to be ready to run. Are you ready?”
“Yes. Let's do this.”
Scott lit the match and tossed it down the seventh floor A.C. Tunnel, then he yanked on Lucy's arm and they flew up the stairs as fast as their bodies could carry them.

Chapter Eighteen – Larry, Barry, and Gary

Lucy came to on the ground floor. Two men, office workers, carried her towards the exit. Brenner stopped them. He was pale, a wad of gauze held to his side, but despite these weaknesses, he was more than lucid. He was more than livid as well. He told them to put her down, then he dragged her into a deserted office.
“Where is it?” he demanded. “Where is it?”
Lucy started. She didn't have it. She hadn't had it since she'd dropped it on the seventh floor. “I don't know!” she cried. “I don't know!”
Brenner pushed Lucy against the wall, and held the plastic folder up in front of her face. “That's because I have it.”
“Please,” Lucy pleaded. “I need to -”
“I really don't care what you need. Your needs mean nothing to me. What matters to me right now is my needs. And I need to know the reason you came for this file.” He slapped her hard, so hard she fell back against the wall again and slid to the ground.
Brenner pulled Lucy up by her armpits. “Yesterday a man named Gary came to my house. He didn't tell me anything else about himself other than his name. What he did tell me was that this morning I would receive a file called the Warner File. He said I would have to protect it all costs. I said no, I wouldn't. Gary said that I would, and that he knew that I would because if I didn't bring it back to him at the end of the day, he would kill my wife and kids.”
“Gary?” Lucy asked.
“Yes, Gary!” He clasped an arm around Lucy's throat. “I want to know what's going on now. The earthquake. The threats against my family. The fire. You're involved aren't you? I want to know what the hell is going on!”
Lucy struggled against him, finding no room to breathe or throw a punch. Her elbows dug against the wall behind her. She felt the plaster give. She heard the echoes of crumbled pieces falling down below her – a shaft of some sort. She threw her elbow back harder. There's always a way out, she thought. The skin on her arms broke but she kept swinging, harder and faster, trying to knock out the wall.
Her vision began to blacken again. Brenner shook her neck. She snatched the Warner File and leaned backwards into the abyss.

Chapter Nineteen – If We're Lucky

Outside the front desk of the security office, they knelt before the first air conditioning module. “This is going to be more difficult than what we've been doing,” Scott said. He ruffled through his toolbox and withdrew his trusty wrench, a set of pliers, a small blow torch, and pump, small and manual – a ball pump. “You have to use this to siphon the existing gas down from the floors above, sucking it in, while I weld the pipe shut. If we're lucky, the gas won't accumulate and explode right now. If we're even luckier, the pressure within the pipe will concentrate the gas below us, so it will explode when we want it to. All I have to do is toss a flame in. And if we're even luckier, once those few floors go up in flames, the whole building won't collapse, and if it does, if we're lucky, no one will be in it, so we won't have been responsible for any deaths, and my parachute will work and we'll get out of here hunky dory.”
“That's a lot of 'if we're lucky's,” Lucy pointed out. “You forget that I haven't had any luck at all today.”
Scott shrugged. “You met me. And besides, I lead a pretty charmed life. Maybe it will cancel out all of your negative karma.”
“I should have a lot of negative karma,” Lucy admitted.
Scott's hands hovered over his tools. “You're a good person, Lucy. I can see that. And good people deserve a little luck, okay. Are you ready to do this?”
“Yes.”
He let his hands fall. “Shit. I'm not. Lucy have you ever killed anyone?”
“Yes.”

Chapter Twenty – The Only Way Out is Up

Lucy constantly wondered what it would be like to die. The fact that she had no idea what to believe about death and life, religion, the afterlife, or any such thing, didn't help her at all. She hated not knowing. Her father had always said that death was like taking a nap after the longest day of your life – so much moving, so much done, so much left to do – and suddenly none of it matters. It's all overtaken by a peaceful, long-awaited sleep. So you fall. You fall into sleep, and you fall for a very long time.
“Nothing wrong with eternal rest,” Carl had once said to Lucy, “we're all gonna get it some time. It's more a blessing than a curse, I think. Sure, it's over, but think of how tiring it would be if life went on forever. All you can do is do the best you can to do what you want before they call your number, Luce. That's all you can do.”
Lucy wanted to marry Topher and spend the rest of her life with him. Now, here, in the bank parking lot, in front of two armed police cruisers, nothing else mattered. She looked at her fiance.
“I love you,” Topher said.
“I love you too,” Lucy said.
Topher dropped his gun. Lucy held on to hers.
“Miss, put it down. Put your gun down now!”
“Don't worry, Lucy. I'm not going to let us get married in jail.” Topher looked at Lucy's gun, silently willing her to follow suit and surrender.
But she couldn't. “I'm not going to let us get married in jail either,” she said. Then she opened fire.

Chapter Twenty One – There's Always Somewhere to Run

Scott took a deep breath. “I've never killed anyone. I've never been responsible for another life until now,” he said, “not besides my own. And I haven't done too good a job so far.”
“Me neither,” Lucy said. “After this we can start all over.”
“You mean that?”
“Yeah, sure,” Lucy replied. “Starting with dinner. Tomorrow. I like Italian.”
“Italian it is.” Scott strapped on the parachute. Then he ran his hands over his tools.
“I don't think we should waste anytime,” Lucy said. She could feel the heat from the seventh floor rising under them. The carpet was warm. The air grew sharp.
“You're right.” Scott's finger twitched, but he didn't reach for his wrench.
“Scott?”
He nodded. “Okay. I'm ready. Let's do this.”
Lucy heard the click of a cocked hammer behind them. She and Scott spun around. Brenner stood behind the front office counter, gun drawn. “Let's not,” Brenner said.
“How did you get up here?” Lucy asked.
“I took the elevator.”
“This place is gonna blow an second,” Scott said. “You should get out of here while you still can.”
“Not without that file.”
“I don't want anything to happen to your kids,” Lucy said, “but I can't do that.”
Brenner winced, and fired, eyes clenched shut, tears reflecting flame.
“Ow!” Scott cried out, examining his shoulder. “What the hell, man! You're not supposed to shoot the help! Do you want to kill us all, huh? There's flammable gas leaking around all over this place!”
“I don't care. I just want the file.”
Brenner vaulted over the counter and approached Lucy. She held the file behind her back. “I'm sorry.”
The sergeant aimed the gun at Lucy's chest. “I'm sorry too.”
Scott stepped over to Lucy's side. “Don't. I'm sure there's another way -”
“There isn't!” Brenner shouted. His trigger finger shuddered.
Scott hurled his wrench at Brenner. Brenner shrunk back, clutching his forehead. The gun went off, straight into the A.C. Unit and the whole wall behind them went up in flames.
“Lucy,” Scott said, pulling her around the nearest corner to shield her from the flames. “I can't feel my left arm. You're going to have to operate the parachute.” He yanked it off with his right arm and handed it to her. Then he tucked the Warner File into his cover-alls pocket. “I'll protect it for you.”
“I can't do that, Scott! I don't even know how to -”
“No time,” he said. An explosion of fire, like a gust of dragon's breath blew by them, and they ran around the next corner. Scott pointed to the window at the end of the hallway. You're just going to have to make it up as you go.”
Lucy strapped the parachute on. Scott used Brenner's gun to shoot the window out. Flames approached from every angle. Explosions resonated from below, moving upward. Scott wrapped his good arm around Lucy's middle, lifted her, and ran.

Chapter Twenty Two – Providence Descending

Carl sat at a card table in the game room of Rutherford Facility with Jimmy Reaper, and his goons, Larry and Barry. The game was poker.
Lucy's father pushed his cards into the middle of the table. “I fold.”
Barry won that round with a full house, ace high. He and Larry slapped hands.
“So, where do you think she is right now, Carl?” Jimmy asked.
“Oh, she's made it out by now,” Carl said, “I'm sure of it. I taught her well, you know.”
Jimmy reached for the deck of cards, started to deal, started to set up the game. “Oh, I know. All those tests you had for her. Trials. Scenarios. You made her as good as you.”
“Maybe better,” Carl ventured.
“Maybe better.”
“She's such a hard head. It was the only way I could get things through to her, you know? And still, most of it, the important parts, didn't stick. I hope that this will be the biggest lesson of all for her.”
“If she makes it out.”
“She will make it out. And she'll have learned when enough is enough.”
Jimmy snorted. “You keep saying that, pal, but I think we both know better. This is all she knows, Carl. This life. Our life. The steal. The score. The need. There's no going back from a life like ours. No redemption. No forgiveness. And I'm not asking for yours.”
“And I'm not giving it,” Carl said. “I trained her. All of this is as much my fault as it is yours for training me.”
“Miss, put it down. Put your gun down now!”
“Don't worry, Lucy. I'm not going to let us get married in jail.” Topher looked at Lucy's gun, silently willing her to follow suit and surrender.
But she couldn't. “I'm not going to let us get married in jail either,” she said. Then she opened fire.
The cops returned fire.
Bullets pierced Topher's torso, sprinkling blood like rain drops.
Lucy ran.
There's always somewhere to run.
Topher fell
down
down
down
to the pavement.

Larry said, “Bet's yours, Barry.”
Barry held up a straight flush: the winning hand of another round.
“If only Gary were here. He's the best of us at playing cards,” Scotty said.
Brenner pulled Lucy up by her armpits. “Yesterday a man named Gary came to my house. He didn't tell me anything else about himself other than his name. What he did tell me was that this morning I would receive a file called the Warner File. That someone was coming to steal and that I was to protect is at all costs or else he would kill my wife and kids.”
“Gary?” Lucy asked.
“Yes, Gary!” He clasped an arm around Lucy's throat. “I want to know what's going on now. The earthquake. The threats against my family. The fire. You're involved aren't you? I want to know what the hell is going on!”
Lucy struggled against him, finding no room to breathe or throw a punch. Her elbows dug against the wall behind her. She felt the plaster give. She heard the echoes of crumbled pieces falling down below her – a shaft of some sort. She threw her elbow back harder. There's always a way out, she thought. The skin on her arms broke but she kept swinging, harder and faster, trying to knock out the wall.
Her vision began to blacken again. Brenner shook her neck. She snatched the Warner File and leaned backwards into the abyss.
She fell
down
down
down
to the cellar.

Carl tossed his hand back on the table. “She's going to get out of there. I know she is. And when she does there will be no need for forgiveness. We'll both get what we want.”
“It's true,” Jimmy agreed. “No more debt for me, and you get to get out of this place. Ten million will take you wherever you want to go.”
“We'll hear from her soon,” Carl said. “Anytime now. Thanks for your help, Jimmy.”
“And thanks for yours,” Jimmy said.
Lucy constantly wondered what it would be like to die. The fact that she had no idea what to believe about death and life, religion, the afterlife, or any such thing, didn't help her at all. She hated not knowing. Her father had always said that death was like taking a nap after the longest day of your life – so much moving, so much done, so much left to do – and suddenly none of it matters. It's all overtaken by a peaceful, long-awaited sleep. So you fall. You fall into sleep, and you fall for a very long time.
“Nothing wrong with eternal rest,” Carl had once said to Lucy, “we're all gonna get it some time. It's more a blessing than a curse, I think. Sure, it's over, but think of how tiring it would be if life went on forever. All you can do is do the best you can to do what you want before they call your number, Luce. That's all you can do.”

Lucy pulled the release on the chute right after they jumped from the building.
“Nice and easy now,” Scott whispered in her ear. “Just float on down.” He guided her shoulders with his neck. “Pull left. Now, lean a little bit right. There you go, Lucy. Almost home free.”
But bad luck latched onto Lucy and refused to let go.
They started to descend faster and faster, too fast. The ground approached like a moving car, closer and closer.
“What do I do? Scott, what do I do?”
“We're too heavy, Lucy.”
“So what do I do?”
“Nothing you can do, but what you're doing.” Scott leaned back so he could see below them. “This is where I leave you Lucy.” He let go.
“Scott! No!” Lucy looked back. Scott was okay. He'd landed in a tree. She could see him, moving around, trying to shimmy down the trunk. Scott was okay! He was alive.
Lucy so busied herself checking on Scott that she didn't notice that she was fast approaching a wall. When she turned to face her front. It was too late. She hit the wall.
She fell
down
down
down
to the pavement.
A ribbon of blood seeped out of her head, stretching around like a halo.
Scott limped into view and leaned over her, hands on hips, shaking his head. “Guess we're not going to dinner tomorrow. That's alright. I'm more of a breakfast person anyway.” He pulled the Warner File out of his pocket, opened the seal, and limped away.
Her father had always said that there are three situations when it's a bad idea to use an elevator: when there's a fire in the building, when there's a robbery, and when you're in need of a quick escape. However, caught in the midst of all three, an elevator seemed to be Lucy's only route of departure.
“Those elevators are deathtraps, Lucy. They'll be the death of you. Stay away from them.”
And she intended to.
Every door in the corridor was locked, but none of them mattered to Lucy. There were no exits on the other side. This floor, the cellar floor, was for records only – rooms for credit files labeled A-C, D-G, E-H, all the way down to U-Z. Lucy already had what she'd come for in the clear plastic envelope tucked below her arm. It was her reason for going and her reason for going out. She didn't even know what was inside.
Prompted by immediacy, she pressed the up button; frightened by the idea of betraying her father's advice, she retreated back down the deserted hallway. Her footfalls were muted by the wail of the fire alarm. She couldn't hear her own heaving breaths as they surged through her chest like hot bile; she shook and over-heated like a junkie with a need. And her need was to get out. Now.
The day before yesterday she'd been a normal person, and now she was this.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 16.03.2010

Alle Rechte vorbehalten