Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
The next day, Kate headed back to the basement.
She’d smuggled an old scanner she had stored in the attic—one that didn’t connect to the internet—and grabbed the computer from the little empty office/closet Ginny had stuck her in during the great “personnel database” debacle, since it was obvious that no one was using it.
Besides, Kate reasoned, if she managed to actually make the program work, she could justify the temporary relocation of the computer stuff.
Besides, Fiendish was hardly a bastion of ethics, so it wasn’t like they could throw stones.
“Kate, what is all of this?” Slim asked, glancing perplexed as she set up in a secluded corner that had an electrical outlet.
“Shhh.” The thought of just how much she’d had to do to get the damned thing still made her want to gag. She’d brushed her teeth about twenty times after the great Tad Kissing Assault Fiasco. After all that, it had better work. “It’s a way to help you guys.”
“You’ve done enough.” Slim sounded grateful. “The energy bars are surprisingly filling.”
“I couldn’t just get you whacked out on sugar all the time,” she muttered, as she quickly plugged everything in.
She’d picked a corner of the basement that was shielded by the stacks of papers the guys had already gone through—she’d at least gotten them that organized.
At Slim’s suggestion, she’d hidden every time The Overseer had come out, and after her first Ho Hos delivery, all the Basement Boys were covering for her, even the scary ones.
Now, it was just a matter of seeing if the damned program worked.
Slim watched with interest. “That’s a computer, isn’t it?”
“Seriously?” She stared at him blankly for a second. “Where are you from, Slim?”
He looked… Embarrassed wasn’t quite the word. He looked uncomfortable. “Very, very far away.”
She rolled her eyes at his cryptic response, then handed him a blank piece of parchment. “Write a page of some script, just gobbledygook. Then do another one, with a bunch of crap and the word we’re looking for. Okay?”
He looked amused and quickly scrawled the words. It looked straight as a razor, almost like a computer had printed it. She nodded, then ran the first through. The software said no match.
“I still don’t see—”
“Bingo,” she said, when the second time produced a blinking word: Match. “This should work. I’ll go grab some more documents.”
She spent the next eight hours running the scans, going through papers. Slim every now and then checked on her, looking intrigued.
“Go eat a Ho Ho,” she muttered, and he let out a creaky laugh, then looked surprised that the sound came out of him.
She almost missed it when the Match flashed at her again. She glanced at the document. It had somebody’s signature, a Victor Klauss, and one of those brown thumbprints, sort of smudged. It also had that symbol, just like the one Slim had drawn.
“Slim! Come here!”
He ambled over. “It’s getting late. You should go back to your home,” he said, sounding concerned. “The Overseer will probably…”
He stopped short when he saw the blinking word. She handed him the document.
“Tell me,” she said. “Is it right? Did I find one?”
She watched as his eyes scanned over the paper. Then he looked at her, stunned.
“It is.”
“Whoo-hoo!” she said, a little louder than she’d intended. Several of the other workers, including the guy she called Dexter, quickly came over.
“What?”
“What is it?”
“More Ho Ho’s?” a third asked hopefully.
“She’s found one,” Slim said.
The others looked confused. Dexter, she noticed, seemed pissed.
“Already?” one of the other workers asked.
“This is good,” Slim said. “We won’t get punished, and there are still twelve yet to find…”
Dexter stepped up, growling. “This is too soon. You know this is too soon.”
His eyes seemed to…
No. They couldn’t actually glow. Certainly not red.
What the hell?
“The Overseer will be mollified,” Slim said sharply. “It buys us time.”
“We’ll get sent back,” Dexter argued.
Slim grimaced at him. “He’s just started starving us, and he’s stopped letting us sleep. After that will come the torture. I’ve worked with him before. I know just how good he can be with the whip.”
“The fucking what?” Kate yelped. “Did you say whip?”
They ignored her. “I don’t know about you,” Dexter retorted, “but whatever that little bastard can do to us is nothing compared to where we were. I say we drag out this little assignment for as long as possible.” Dexter finally turned to Kate, and she swore his eyes shone, like a cat’s. “Why are you meddling in this?”
“I… Slim told me he was worried about your boss,” she stammered. “Didn’t want any of you to get in trouble. If I’d had any idea… if I’d known just how badly you were being mistreated, I would’ve called the cops!”
Dexter’s face contorted. “Stupid human,” he spat out. “Your pity is why we’ll destroy you.”
Slim snarled out something in that strange language. Kate simply stared at them both, in sheer shock at both the revelations and Dexter’s response.
“Human?” she echoed. “What the hell are you, then?”
Dexter stepped up on her, grabbing for her before Slim could stop him. “I’m the one who’s going to kill you, no matter what treats you bribe me with. I’m going to devour your flesh.”
Kate let out a shrill little squeak, falling to the floor when Slim grabbed at Dexter. Dexter’s grip was like a vise, and her shirt tore a little. She reached for her purse—thank God she’d left it open. The pepper spray was in her hand when Dexter shrugged out of Slim’s grip.
The pepper spray caught him face on, and he stopped for a moment. Then he sneezed.
Once.
She stared as he snatched the can out of her hand…
…then sprayed it in his mouth, laughing at her. He grinned maniacally, and she saw that several of his teeth were sharpened to points.
“Oh, fuck me running,” she whispered, unable to look away.
“All right, what’s going on here?” a voice yelled, and the crowd instantly dispersed. Dexter let out one more inhuman snarl of frustration before backing away from her.
“The Overseer.” Slim sent her a sorrowful look, then blended back with the crowd.
She braced herself.
A little old man, about five feet tall, limped over to her, aided by a cane. “What are you doing here?” he said, his voice like a peevish old grandpa.
She stared. This? This was the Overseer?
You meddling kids! Get off my lawn!
She bit her lip before the adrenaline set off her giggles. “Um… I was working?”
“No, you weren’t,” he snapped. “I run the show down here, and I didn’t hire you.”
“Ginny sent me,” she said. “She told me to work in Contracts.”
“Ginny. Of course.” The Overseer looked at the ceiling, as if praying for patience. “You need to leave. You certainly do not belong here.”
“All right,” she said quickly. She’d agree to almost anything to get the hell out of there.
Dexter was still pissed—still looked like he wanted to take a bite out of her. She swallowed hard.
“Perhaps I should accompany you,” the old man said.
She gave him a quick once-over. This little old man was capable of starving people and torturing them. The Basement Boys were no doubt trafficked, with no recourse.
She suddenly wondered if this Overseer was going to escort her from the building, all right—then maybe to some out of the way spot to, say, shoot her, and eliminate the loose end that knew about their nefarious plan.
Her heart started racing, and her palms went damp.
She quickly scooped up her messenger bag and headed for the elevators. The old man limped beside her, his scowl keeping the workers at bay. She mouthed “goodbye” to Slim.
“Thank you, Kate O’Hara,” he whispered back.
When the elevator doors closed, the old man gave her a shrewd look but didn’t speak. She swallowed hard against the wave of nausea thickening her throat.
“Lobby’s fine,” she said, thinking of where she could get the most witnesses around her the quickest. Did he have a gun on him? Maybe a sword in that cane of his?
She was being paranoid. Wasn’t she? Jesus.
He hit the button for the fortieth floor. “I think we should both speak to Ginny,” he said, moving surprisingly quickly despite his impediment.
When they got there, Ginny was talking on the phone. She quickly cut it off, looking shocked when she saw Kate and the old man. “What are you doing here?”
Kate wasn’t sure which “you” Ginny was referring to.
“The better question,” the old man said, before Kate could answer, “is what was this little girl doing down in my territory? Do you even know who she is?”
Aha. He was checking out her story. He didn’t believe Ginny sent her. Kate swallowed hard, adrenaline starting to redline in her bloodstream. She’d just bolt out of the office if she had to.
Thankfully, Ginny spluttered in response. “Kate! You were down… in the basement?”
“You told me to go to Contracts,” Kate said.
“I did not say to go to the basement!” Ginny shouted, but something didn’t quite ring true. “I meant the legal department! It’s on a totally different floor, idiot!”
Trust Ginny to totally misremember the incident. “You told me it was Contracts, specfically. When I asked where it was, you said ‘downstairs’ and then told me to ask security. They sent me to the basement.”
Had they seemed a little skeptical? She could’ve sworn she remembered them calling Ginny for clarification.
The old man scowled at the skinny blonde. “Ginny, did you really have no idea where you were supposed to send this kid? Are you really that painfully ignorant?”
Ginny glared at him.
“She was down with the boys, Ginny. My boys,” the old man clarified. Then his eyes narrowed, and he grinned, an evil sort of smirk. “Now that I think about it—I always wondered how those other two pretty temps made it downstairs. Nothing like a little plausible deniability, eh?”
Kate stared at both of them, bewildered.
Exactly what the fuck is going on here?
“Shut up, Al.” Ginny snapped, getting to her feet.
“Watch your mouth with me, girlie,” the Overseer said softly. “I’m a lot meaner than Thomas is, and I don’t have his patience. And I know what you are.”
Ginny’s mouth snapped shut.
He grinned, then looked over at Kate. “Don’t go down to the basement again. And if you tell anyone about what you saw, things will go very, very badly for you.”
He left, his cane thumping on the floor.
Ginny looked apoplectic. “You’re fired. Fired!”
It’s not like she wanted to stay, but the sheer insult and all Ginny’s actions pissed her off. “It wasn’t my fault!” Kate protested.
“You can’t take simple direction, and you’re constantly causing trouble. I want you out of this building, and if you keep this up, I’m going to make sure your temp agency, and every agency in the Bay Area, does not hire you again. You won’t be able to sell a burger!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Kate blurted out.
“Get out!”
“Fine,” Kate said through gritted teeth, her hands clamped on the strap of her bag so she wouldn’t do anything rash, like smacking the stick bug until her blond hair whipped around like a shampoo commercial. “Just sign my timecard. I’ll be glad to get out of here.”
“Out!”
Kate gritted her teeth. “Sign the damned timecard!”
Ginny grabbed the paper, slashing her signature across the bottom. Kate grabbed it, then strode down the hallway, her hands gripped into fists. When the first elevator opened, she stomped in, the ebbing of fear replaced with a tide of fury.
She hit Thomas dead in the chest, knocking him down even as she tumbled. “Ow,” he said, then smiled as he recognized her. “Kate. We’ve got to stop meeting this way.”
She didn’t have a comeback. Her heart was still racing. It was all catching up with her.
Dexter says that they’re not human and he was going to kill me, Slim is being starved and tortured by some horrendous old guy who I also thought was going to kill me—and I just got fired by an incompetent, jealous, vindictive stick bug with 80s hair. Who also apparently tried to kill me by proxy.
“Whoa. You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and warm and kind.
“What do you care?” Kate got to her feet, shrugging off his attempts at assisting her. Her messenger bag fell open, and the contents—a hairbrush, her journal, some mints—dropped to the floor with a clatter. She scooped it up, stuffing it haphazardly back in the bag. “I’m just a temp.”
“Hey.” When the doors opened, he tugged her aside in the lobby. His dark blue eyes looked concerned, maybe even a little hurt. “What kind of a man do you think I am?”
“You tell me,” she hissed. “Let’s start with what you know about the guys in the basement.”