Chapter 4
April studied the interior of the building. It was new and old at the same time – recently built but constructed in an old style – high molded ceilings, ornate murals, wall sized paintings of various turn of the century aristocrat types, resplendent in hunting garb, or ball gowns, high wood paneling on the walls, even a few stuffed animal heads. If April had ever been in an old English Gentlemen's club, at the turn of the century, she would have recognized the blueprints for the building she was in. Dark, stuffy and aching with memories the building was too young to have. She sat in the foyer, in a high-backed red leather chair, looking around at all the other leather couches scattering the room, the small side tables, the three different fire places – all lit– and various butler types wandering around refilling port glasses and looking disdainfully at her while she waited.
She'd hesitated when entering the building, since it was a standalone building, very few windows and it looked compellingly desolate. It was new and stood alone which meant that whoever owned it had money; land was at a premium in Washington DC. It was a forbidding building and she checked the address she'd been given twice before walking up past the immaculate front gardens.
Over huge oak doors was a stone carving, with a coat of arms woven in, and the words 'auctoritate sua remuneratio' engraved on it. She pulled out her iPhone and used Google Translate to convert the Latin to English. It translated as 'Authority is its own reward.' Fitting for a group called the 'Storm Clouds Gentlemen's Club'.
April had entered and given the name of her contact to the first uniformed person who had stopped to ask her business. While she was doing that, her phone pinged and the person she was there to meet texted to ask if she'd arrived yet. April replied she had and was told to wait.
So April sat down and waited, studying her surroundings. The heady musk of pipe smoke was in the air – a building you could smoke inside of in Washington, DC, was a rarity, but here people were puffing on pipes, smoking cigars and one person even had a hookah next to his chair. It was silent apart from the occasional cough or rustle of someone turning a page.
April waited for several minutes, ostensibly using her iPhone in that interesting way that modern women do, as a mirror, where they turn on the front facing camera and check their makeup in the image. In actual fact, she was taking pictures of the immediate area. Right across from her was a large wall painting, depicting a hunting scene, where a small man was being hunted by riders – both male and female – on horseback. It was an interesting image, but its position bothered her. Only someone sitting in this chair, in this foyer, would see it.
She'd already noticed that while the rooms had motion detectors, they were too high up and at the wrong angle to do the job. Motion detectors have a limited angle of view and area distance they work in and when they are up twenty feet off the ground, this particular set – designed for small house observation – would be completely ineffective. They were obviously there more for show that actual usage, which did beg the question, why? She had also noticed that all the butlers had earpieces. That, in itself, wasn't out of the ordinary – lots of restaurants give the wait staff walkie-talkies to seat people and so on. What was peculiar was that this particular model was the same military grade model that Ingrams used on occasion.
This whole building screamed "Wrong!" at her, although she couldn't pin down why beyond the things she'd already noticed.
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Behind the painting there was a room. It was filled with expensive electronics and displays, like every security room always is. The painting itself was faux and one sided – some of the newest technology that made opaque textures one sided. The room had three full time security guards in it, and they were observing April as closely as possible, even to the point of running facial recognition software against her image.
One man was whispering quietly into a mike, "Yes. She's here for one of the cattle. I don't know, sir. No, she just came in and asked. Yes, we can hold her. We can hustle her into a side meeting room without the clients being aware, if that's what you want...Yes. I'll send a couple of the Buttle Boys. Yes sir."
He nodded at another guard, who picked up a phone.
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April was still looking around when a side door opened in the wood paneling and a small, elfin young woman came out. She was nervous, clutching a large bag to her chest. With her short dark hair and pixie features, the girl looked like a young Audrey Hepburn. She looked around and spied April and made a bee line for her in that slightly desperate way people do when they really want to run but understand they are being watched. She moved as fast as she could without running.
"You're Mary right? We need to go. Now," the girl said when she reached April .
April stood up and said, "Lara? Are you sure we need to rush?"
"Yes. We need to go. They won't be happy. We should go now. I'll do whatever you want, we just need to go." Lara gave April a tight smile while her eyes darted around
"I don't want to get you into trouble—" said April.
Lara grabbed April's hand hustled them to the door. Before they reached it, two butlers appeared out of nowhere. Lara stopped abruptly as she noticed them, and looked imploringly at April. April could only look puzzled, having no idea what was going on. The stares they were getting did make her palm itch and she did wonder if she was going to have to fight her way out for a second. She kept her hand on her handbag, ready to push past the false bottom and grab the taser she had stashed there. It would only take care of one of them, but it would at least be one dealt with.
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The men in the security booth looked back at the man who'd just come in behind them. They were looking out at the one way images behind the large pictures, and also on the monitors. One of them was whispering into a mike, talking to the two butlers.
"Hold them, don't let them..."
"No." said the commanding presence behind them. "Let them go. I know her. We will gain more from watching. Let them leave."
The man with the mike didn't even look back, he just whispered, "Let them go. All clear."
The man in the shadows nodded and leaned forward into the light. When the light fell on him, it revealed the chiseled features of Gene Rainer.
