The Watchtower Page 2

  Chapter Two

  The mailroom wasn’t as busy as Martin thought it would be. Instead of hundreds of people sorting out mail that came down a conveyer belt, Terin Global’s postal division consisted of a dozen or so people sitting at one large wooden desk in the center of the room, staring blankly at computer screens. Martin peeked at one of the monitors closest to him. The occupant was scanning over the obituaries from one of the major newspapers in the States. In particular, the death notice of some young reporter for a celebrity gossip show.

  Martin was taken aback. “Wow, when did he die?”

  “Just last night,” a young, dark-haired man said, as he stretched in his chair. “Apparently some famous wrestler didn’t like the idea that buddy here, was ogling his wife’s breasts.”

  Another young man poked his head up from the monitor directly across. He didn’t even look at Martin. “Beat him to death?”

  “Yup. And in California, they have the death penalty.”

  “Are we going to get them?”

  The dark-haired man tapped his keyboard and a map of North America appeared. “I don’t know. Los Angeles is borderline. Could go to Singapore.”

  Martin frowned. “Get who?”

  He waited, but no one replied. With an indignant snort, Martin walked away. The receptionist in the lobby was nicer.

  He found the scanner sitting against the back wall underneath a huge motif. Martin took a second look around. The same intricate design on the floor of his new boss’ office was on all four walls. He didn’t know what was weirder; the fact it was there, or that not one person noticed a stranger wandering around the mail room with no security pass. That is, until he tried to move the scanner. Then Martin felt all eyes focus on him. He smiled and gave a small wave as he rolled the wheeled cart toward a set of swinging doors.

  “Excuse me!” a male voice bellowed from the far end of the room. “But you can’t take that out of here.”

  A balding, rather uptight looking middle-aged man, scurried out of an enclosed room and past the long wooden desk. His crew-cut hair and 50’s style clothing looked as out of place here as Barb’s outfit did upstairs.

  Martin stopped and put his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Martin Cunningham, the new Public Liaison officer for the company and--”

  “I don’t care who you are. I’m in charge of this department and you don’t just come down here and walk out with an expensive piece of equipment.”

  Martin looked him over. He was paler than normal, which made his dark-rimmed glasses stand out even more. “I know this isn’t normal, but you don’t understand Mr.--”

  “Greevly. Thomas Greevly, and you’re the one who doesn’t understand, Mr. Cunningham. I’ve worked my ass off for the last three decades, trying to earn my place on the list, and I’m not going to have it jeopardized by something like this.”

  “But Lucian said--”

  “Lucian?” Thomas’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Did that pompous jackass send you down here?”

  “Look, I just need it for a few minutes. The boss wants a package examined and--”

  “So why don’t they bring it down here?”

  “They want to do this in private. Look, I really don’t want to argue about this--”

  The man crossed his arms. “Nope. I’m not authorizing it. If anything were to happen to this scanner, I’m the one who has to answer for it. I could lose my standing, and I’m NOT going back down there. Do you hear me?”

  Martin backed off a little. This one was wrapped just a little too tight. “I understand that, and I promise nothing will happen—”

  “No. If Upstairs wants a scanner so bad, why don’t they go out and buy one? Leave my stuff alone.”

  Martin grabbed the cart and pulled it toward him. “Technically, this is their stuff. And you’re not letting them use it.”

  Thomas stepped in front of the scanner. “I’m sorry. It stays here.”

  Martin let out a deep sigh and brought out his Blackberry. This would have to happen. He flipped open the menu on the phone and tapped the receptionist’s number at the top of the list.

  Her shrill voice sent a shiver through him. “Problems already, Mr. Cunningham?”

  “Uh, yes, there’s a man here who won’t authorize--”

  “Hand the phone to him, please.”

  Martin lowered the Blackberry from his ear and handed it to Thomas. He didn’t know whether to be smug or sympathetic. “Someone wants to speak with you.”

  Thomas took the phone and put it up to his ear. Martin didn’t think the man could get any paler, until Lizzy’s voice rang out from the receiver.

  “Yes, this is my department, and I can’t have every Tom, Dick or Martin come waltzing in and take expensive…I know that, but it’s my job...” Thomas turned away from the scanner. “No, no, no, Miss Borden, please, you have no idea how hard I’ve worked for this position and...No, no, I’m not arguing with you. I just don’t feel comfortable...Yes, yes ma’am I do want that...No, I didn’t know that...Yes, that does change the situation. Thank you.”

  Thomas closed the cell and handed it back. Martin thought the poor guy was going to throw up.

  “Keep it for as long as you want,” Thomas said. The indignant look was probably there to save face, but Martin saw a hint of fear as well. “We have extras.”

  He put the phone back in his pocket and grabbed a hold of the cart. “Thank you. I promise I’ll take good care of it.”

  Thomas gave him a curt nod. “See that you do. And, Mr. Cunningham, please inform the Mistress that if she needs anything else, do not hesitate to call.”

  Martin smiled sympathetically. “I will.”

  Clouds were rolling in over the city as Martin pushed the scanner across the plaza and into the main building. He was positive he looked like an idiot, but if he did, no one said anything. As a matter of fact, not one person even took a second look. Either they didn’t care, or sights like this were commonplace. If the second were true, this place was getting weirder. And what was the list?

  He got the machine back up to the twenty-ninth floor, and as he rolled it across the gateway threshold, Barb appeared in front of him.

  “It’s about time,” she said, pointing him in another direction. “What took you so long?”

  Martin rolled the cart to a stop. “The department head, Mr. Greevly, was a little anal about me walking out with expensive equipment.”

  “Did you call Lizzy?”

  He gave her a worried look. “Yes, ma’am. Don’t know what she said, but she certainly changed his attitude real fast.”

  Barb didn’t respond as she walked over to the second wooden door, and motioned Martin to follow.

  “Hey, I’ve got a question.”

  Barb stopped at the doorway. “What is it?”

  “Greevly was rambling about his place on a list,” Martin said, as he pushed the cart past the desk. “What’s he talking about?”

  Barb reached for the large doorknob, and then paused. “That’s confidential information, Mr. Cunningham.”

  “So you’re not going to tell me?”

  She turned slightly and gave him a wicked smile. “Maybe if you decide to stay.”

  His sense of curiosity deflated. There was just something about how she said it that made the hair on the back of his neck tingle. Enough that he decided not to press the matter further.

  He motioned to the wooden door. “What’s that room?

  Barb twisted the knob and let the door swing open. “Daniel’s laboratory.”

  “Laboratory?” he frowned. “You have scientist working here?”

  A whimsical expression washed across her face. “Nope.”

  She wiggled her finger for him to follow and stepped into the room. Martin pushed the cart toward the door, but he was quickly getting frustrated at all this cryptic stuff. Sure, there were things he wouldn’t be privileged to due to his temporary situation, but this was getting ridiculous.
r />   If the office room hinted at remodeling by Frankenstein, the laboratory was right out of the castle. Even the stone fireplace was old. The room was small, almost suffocating with one wall nothing but computer monitors, each depicting a different image across the screen. Several towers were hooked into the digital wall, and hummed softly on a black metal desk. Experiment tables and lab paraphernalia took up most of the adjacent wall with paper folders and boxes strewn all around. The only other exit led to a closet size bathroom with a flickering light.

  Jezryall sauntered up to him as he pushed the cart off to one side and shut the door. “Good, you are back. I trust you had no problems acquiring the equipment.”

  Martin put his hands on his hips. “A little, but that receptionist really knows how to handle management. Funny, she didn’t strike me as a people person when I first met her.”

  Barb chuckled. “Yeah, Lizzy has a killer personality.”

  Martin felt a chill run up his spine.

  Snorts and chuckles came from behind a stack of large boxes. “Killer personality. Good one, Barb!”

  Jezryall walked over to a stack of boxes. “Come out Daniel and meet our new Liaison officer.”

  Daniel Livingstone’s shadow stretched across the room as the rest of him stepped out from behind the boxes. He was shorter than Martin, with dark skin and long dreadlocks. He looked to be the same age as Barb and hid behind his long black hair. Martin stuck out his hand, but the young man slammed his fists into the front pockets of his worn jeans and moved back into the shadows. He didn’t look at Martin the whole time.

  Martin pulled his hand back. “Um…nice to meet you.” He turned to Barb. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” Barb said, and walked over to Daniel. “He’s just shy around new people.” 

  “Can you move the machine here, please, Mr. Livingstone?” Jezryall asked.

  Daniel popped out from behind the boxes and walked to the cart. Martin saw Barb point in his direction, and from the mouthed words, was pretty sure she was pushing the poor guy into interacting more. With a scorn and a brief head shake, Daniel grabbed the cart and rolled it into the center of the room, then took the package from the Scot and placed it on top of the machine.

  “Does anyone know how to work this thing?” Daniel asked, looking over the controls.

  Martin stared at him. “You don’t know how to work it?” He looked over at Barb. Certainly she knew how to use it? She shook her head.

  Martin couldn’t believe this. “Fine.” He placed the parcel at the beginning of the conveyer belt as Daniel retreated into the shadows. Martin pushed the small green button next to the information screen, and with a jerk, the scanner began retracting the conveyer belt, moving the parcel slowly toward the flapped opening.

  Jezryall took a few steps closer to the machine. The mischievous twinkle returned to her eyes. She turned to the Scot. “What do you think will be inside?”

  Aslin crossed his arms. “With a package this size, it could be just about anything.”

  Daniel peered out from his hiding spot. They waited in silence as the package crawled closer to the opening. Martin’s heart pounded, but he couldn’t understand why. It was just as stupid package. His new employer and her Scottish friend were taking this way too seriously, and it was starting to get to him now.

  The tension mounted as the box disappeared into the machine. Martin stepped up to the information panel and pressed the button that would start the scan. Lights moved back and forth from somewhere inside, and slowly the contents began to reveal themselves. Martin bent over the front of the scanner and turned on the small viewing screen on top. Slowly the rectangular shape of the box slid into view. Martin frowned.

  “What is that?”

  “What is what, Mr. Cunningham?” Jezryall asked.

  The Scot nearly knocked Martin down trying to get a better look at the contents. “It is indeed alive,” he said, his disapproving tone now mixed with concern. “This box contains an egg, with the creature still inside.”

  Martin looked over the Scot’s shoulder. “What kind of creature would come from an egg that big?”

  The Scot didn’t reply. He just stared intensely at the monochrome screen.

  Jezryall became worried. “Do you recognize the creature?” she asked.

  He looked up at her. “I do, Mistress.” He stepped away from the scanner. “You all should leave the room. For your own safety.”

  “What do you mean?” Martin asked, looking again at the screen. “It doesn’t look dangerous. It’s just a big worm.”

  Jezryall’s eyes widened as Barb quickly went to her side and placed one arm around her. Jezryall glanced at Barb, then at the Scot. Martin didn’t have to be a psychic to know his new boss was frightened.

  “Not good, not good, not good,” Daniel chanted from somewhere between all the piles of junk.

  The box started to come out the other side. “What’s not good?” Martin asked. “This is stupid. It’s just an over-sized worm. Probably someone’s idea of a joke.”

  The Scot picked up the box as it came out the other side. “The creature inside isn’t a worm, Mr. Cunningham.” He turned the box around, looking at it from different angles. “It is called a Brosnie. One of the most dangerous creatures in the world. Just one bite would release enough poison to wipe out the population of a small village.”

  Martin rolled his eyes. All this melodrama was starting to get to him.

  “The package must be destroyed.” The Scot faced Jezryall. “You cannot argue about it now.”

  Jezryall took a deep breath and crossed her arms. Her lips pressed together in a tight line as she kept her gaze on the package. It was easy to see she wanted to know more. To be honest, so did he.

  Martin let out a deep sigh. “Again, if you destroy it, then how will you learn who sent it?”

  The metal tips on Barb’s stilettos clicked on the flagstones. “Brian in Security has some connections at the Police Station,” she said. “He was bragging about it to me a few weeks ago.” She rolled her eyes. “Thought it would impress me.”

  “Call him,” Jezryall said. “Tell him that we require his services.” She walked over to where Daniel was hiding. “Do you hear anything, Mr. Livingston? If this is a Brosnie, I must know who smuggled it into the city.”

  “No, Mistress,” Daniel said, in a soft voice. “It’s silent.”

  “There are many possibilities, Mistress,” The Scot said. “This city is an open port. People from all over the world travel here. There is no telling who could have brought it in.”

  Daniel stepped out into the partial light. “The Gemini,” he said, and then shrank back when everyone looked at him. “The Gemini might know who could smuggle this in.”

  Jezryall nodded. “I agree.” She turned to Aslin. “We must speak with them immediately.”

  “Is that wise?” Barb asked. “I mean, for Jezryall to be out in the day?”

  “I will use the Portal.”

  The Scot walked over to Jezryall. “I wish you wouldn’t, Mistress. Those conduits are unsafe at the best of times.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she said, and walked past him. “I must speak to the Gemini. They have abilities that could shorten our search.”

  Jezryall moved through the open doorway, although Martin was sure he closed the door behind him when he came in. He wasn’t about to ask who or what the Gemini were. He was past asking questions he knew they weren’t going to answer. “What about Barb’s rent-a-cop friend?”

  “It would serve us better if we employ his services once we have finished speaking with the Gemini,” the Scot said. “The more we know, the more he can do his job properly.”

  “Good idea.” Martin walked over to the scanner. “I’ll take the egg out and Barb can take the package to her friend now.”

  “What are you doing?” the Scot’s voice boomed through the small room. “You endanger us all by taking the creature out of the box!”

  Martin
placed the package on top of the scanner. “Relax, it’s still inside the egg.”

  He pulled on the twine and ripped off the brown shipping paper. Packing tape sealed the top, but a quick slice with his apartment key cut an even line down the center. He opened the top flaps and looked inside. A cream-coloured sheet of paper with a strange black marking lay on top. He picked it up and placed it down on the scanner, and then reached both hands into the box.

  “Careful,” Barb said.

  “It’s pretty big,” Martin said, lifting the egg gently out from the packing material. He turned to them, keeping a tight hold on the egg. “Feels pretty solid.”

  Daniel walked up to the scanner and picked up the sheet of paper. “A binding Rune.”

  Martin didn’t like the troubled look on Daniel’s face.

  Sparks ignited from somewhere in the hearth and it turned into a blazing blue fire. Martin looked past the egg and into the stone hearth; there wasn’t any kindling, just stone and fire. “What the hell? How did that happen?”

  The Scot was standing a few feet away his arm stretched out toward the flames. There was a flash from the ends of his fingers and flames leapt from the tips and ignited a green fire in the hearth. Both fires danced and licked the hearth as the Scot mumbled words under his breath.

  The Scot jerked around. “Mr. Cunningham, quickly! Throw the egg into the fire.”

  Martin was dumbfounded. “How did you do that?”

  “That is not important. Throw it into the fire.”

  Martin looked down at the egg. In the firelight, it was beautiful. The mother-of-pearl sheen and minute crystals embedded within the shell twinkled in the light. “What’s the hurry? It’s not a threat to anyone. Why can’t we—”

  The sound of a crack was loud and a shudder raced through Martin’s body. Everything around him seemed to slow down as he watched the small break move along the top of the shell. His stomach heaved and Martin felt the sting of bile at the back of his throat.

  “Quickly,” the Scot yelled, and reached for the egg. “It has to be destroyed before it hatches!”

  The Scot grabbed the egg from his hands as Martin doubled over and threw up.

  “Martin!”

  He heard Barb scream but couldn’t move. It was everything he could do to keep from throwing up again.

  “The shell must be toxic,” the Scot said, and threw it toward the fire.

  Martin forced his head up. The egg was halfway across the room when the shell fell apart and the creature inside fell onto the floor. The Brosnie was small, no bigger than six inches, with one giant eye and was as thin as a pencil. Ugly as hell too. It reared up and hissed at everyone. Daniel and Barb backed off as far as possible, while the Scot moved closer and held out his arms.

  “Everyone, keep away from it,” he said, and looked at Martin. “Are you all right?”

  Martin nodded and wiped his mouth on his sleeve as the nauseous feelings subsided. “I think I’ll live.”

  It reared up a few more times, turning its one eye from side to side. Martin was sure it was scanning the room, looking for a way out.

  The Scot moved closer, arms out wide, circling it. The creature slid along the floor circling in the same direction. Martin clenched his jaw. If he weren’t so nauseous, this would be funny.

  A fireball shot out from the tips of the Scot’s fingers, and Martin rubbed his eyes. The poison must still be affecting him. He thought he saw the worm curl up the corners of its snake-like mouth.

  Again, another ball of fire hit the creature and this time Martin was positive it came from the Scot’s fingertips.

  “How did you do that?” he asked, not really sure if he wanted an answer.

  “That is not important,” the Scot said. “Focus, Mr. Cunningham. It must be destroyed!”

  Another fireball hit it, but other than it dissolving into a puff of smoke, nothing happened.

  “It must be fused with Salamander blood,” Aslin said. “Fire has no effect on it.”

  Martin felt light-headed as a wave of panic washed over him.

  Aslin is in danger!

  “Watch out!”

  The Scot glared back at him. The worm wasn’t just ugly; it was fast. It leapt at the Scot, mouth open, and with its rows of sharp teeth, clamped down on his hand.

  The Scot screamed in pain and flicked his wrist hard, breaking the worm’s grip and throwing it back on the floor. This time, closer to Martin.

  Martin had a better look at it now. The same crystal flicks on the shell were in its leathery skin, but its ashen tone helped it to blend in with the flagstones. Martin squinted to get a better look, as it reared its head and glared up with one big red eye. He took a step back as the creature slithered forward.

  “Don’t let it escape!” Aslin yelled from the floor. Barb was already at his side, administering first aid.

  It slithered sideways and Martin took a few steps trying to block it. It moved in another direction, and again Martin blocked its path.

  “Get a cold compress!” Barb yelled. Martin hoped she was talking to Daniel, as he was slightly busy dancing around with a worm.

  It scooted to the left, coming closer each time and Martin backed off a bit. He sure as hell didn’t want to get bit.

  Daniel came running out from the bathroom, and it lunged at Martin. Martin jumped back, barely missing the rows of sharp teeth. They danced around each other, until it had a clear shot at the exit. It shuffled forward like an inch worm, but a chair slid across the floor, hit the door and slammed it shut.

  Martin turned around. Daniel had a wide grin on his face.

  “Nice move!”

  Daniel beamed. “Thanks!”

  Martin focused on the worm again as it hissed through its sharp teeth.

  Daniel skirted along the tables. “Oh, he’s not happy.”

  “Ya think?” Martin replied, not impressed that he was again being confronted by the psycho worm.

  “Kill it!” Aslin yelled from the floor.

  “With what?” Martin yelled back. “Not everyone in this room can shoot fireballs out of our finger tips!”

  “Try this,” Daniel said, and threw a broom.

  Catching it, Martin frowned. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Sweep him to death?”

  “Hit it!” Daniel shouted.

  Martin didn’t need to be told twice, and faced the creature, bristles ready to do battle. The worm was not only a fast attacker, but could evade pretty quickly too. Martin slammed the head of the broom on the floor a few times. The worm’s colouring made it difficult to distinguish it from the flagstones. He banged the broom as fast as possible, and then on one of his bashes, the broom felt heavier. Martin raised it a few feet above the floor. There, clinging to the end of the bristles was the creature. Martin had to admit, it was one smart worm.

  He raised the broom a little higher, unsure of how to get it off. He shook it, trying to force it loose, and then realized it could let go and land on him. He bashed the head of the broom against the floor again, this time putting all his strength behind it. The weight of the broom shifted, and gasps from behind confirmed his fear. The damn thing let go in mid-air and sailed across the room, landing perfectly on the seat of the toilet.

  The Scot yelled something incoherent as Martin took off for the bathroom, but was too late. With one final, menacing laugh, it dove into the bowl. Martin got to the toilet in time to see it swim into the u-bend.

  “Dammit,” he said. “Out smarted by a worm.”