Where were we? Ah, yes. Vonnel had just proposed to his jolly band of thieves a very large payday should they acquire a certain space-jumping device. If you missed part 1, find it here. We join the heist, now in progress.
A Scuffle for a Wrinkle, part 2
“Locked and loaded, Vonnel.” Jestu’s voice sounded clearly in his head through his Crancom.
“Acknowledged. How are your environs?”
“A varni family, some kids splashing in the fountain, another sliding down the hall, and important folks out the wazoo. Nothing unexpected.”
“Great. How ‘bout you, Narin?”
“Pshhhhhhhh… I’m sorry…. Psshhhhhhhh…. You’re break….Psssshhhhhhhh…. Von….!” There was a brief pause. Vonnel rolled his eyes behind his visor. Narin did this every time. After a moment of silence, the voice returned in his head.
“Everything A-Okay, nothing down here but a rat. And now I’m gettin’ ‘ungry agin, but I’m a-ready when you say, chief.”
“Keep on whatever they call those things on your hoofs, the mission is counting down. Piro, you there?”
Heavy breathing sounded in his head, a cross between a growl and a sigh. “Get this tage over with, the toilet ain’t a place for snoozin’. I smell me fourteen coupla hases, and I be eulogized if I ain’t gonna see ‘um.”
“You in the clear, Piro? Answer the question.”
“Like a bubble in your glass, you hole.”
Tannin’s voice pounded his brain an instant later. “NOTHING… Sorry, always do that. Sorry. Ummmm… clear here, street looks good, nothin’ unusual. I see Piro on the corner with his smoke, Jestu looks like he’s talking to the clerk inside the lobby. I can’t see Narin, but he walked down the alley ten minutes ago, so he should be ready to enter. Gregario should be arriving in the cabby any second. Vonnel, I assume you made it to the roof?”
“Yep. Gregario says traffic was heavy on the Z, but he should be only a minute. Everyone, this tage is about to get heavy.”
Vonnel strapped his custom-made glideboard to his side, its cushion deflated, its board hinged into quarters, and peered over the edge. The sleek silver roof continued at a steep angle for fifty feet before plummeting straight down for a good half mile. Nothing could be seen in that direction, save the eternal expanse of the city, with its many spires just as this one poking a perfectly blue sky, thanks to the wonders of SkyClear.
Behind him, from the direction that had brought him sailing skillfully from the clouds, could be seen several miles of city, ending abruptly in sand. Somewhere in the death soil, a little north and a way to the east, was Barsen, home to the Creeping Range. Beyond that was wasteland for infinity, if not longer. No one ventured that way anymore. It was barren, uninhabited, forgotten. The end of the world. Barsen teetered on the edge, which is why Vonnel called it home.
Vonnel turned in that direction. The roof laid open, a hundred yards in diameter, comprising a large vehicular landing pad and a smaller group-sized descending pad, which dropped you into the top level of the tower. Vonnel headed for the smaller pad. He paused before stepping onto its soft rubber façade, confirmed the positions of his comrades, inhaled a deep breath of thin air, suppressed a cough, and stepped onto the pad.
He placed a set of lifted prints carefully over his own, impressed them into the screen, and let out a puff of breath when the pad approved him. He was now Hein Montalf Odgrariuv. Hein. Sir, in the commoner’s tongue. A lofty title for a drifter like himself, but worthy of a soon-to-be billionaire. He afforded himself a smile. The smile vanished as the descension began and the roof melted away.
The descension pad slid into a room of utter darkness, a small red dot glowing straight ahead. Vonnel looked about, the empty blackness transformed into a green-hued entryway by his visor. The pad made contact with the floor and the lights clicked on, gradually increasing in brightness. What he wanted lay ahead, next to the red dot: the door. He placed his false fingerprints onto the screen, and the door receded into the wall.
Welcome, Hein Montalf Odgrariuv. Enjoy your stay at the Grasin Hotel and Suites. Vonnel stepped into a black hallway. Overhead, a light switched on and intensified. Vonnel proceeded down the hallway, noting each door, counting them off in his head.
A voice crackled in his cranium. “I’m in, chief. Got the circuits before me. Just give me the go.” It was Narin, in the mechanix room in the basement. Lords knew how he had managed it so quickly.
“Acknowledged. Wait for the signal.”
Vonnel reached the sixth door on his right and opened it without hesitation, using the quaint knob in place. Within was a storage room, stacked with files and outdated peripherals. The whole floor was nothing but storage and roof access for the most prestigious, such as Hein Odgrariuv. Above him, a fluorescent bulb flickered on and off. Vonnel placed his left hand to his visor and depressed a button. An engineer’s floor plan appeared before his eyes. He zoomed in on the sixth room on the right from the roof access, and then dropped the view down one floor. Room A-44.
Vonnel grinned. That was it. But it never hurt to be doubly sure. He set his gear in place against the far wall and waited.
Piro’s voice whispered gruffly in his mind. “The fool is in. I repeat, Gregario is stepping out of the cabby.”
“Good.” Vonnel switched the transmission to Gregario. “Await the signal, Gregario. Is this understood?”
“For shoo, captain,” Gregario proclaimed cheerfully. “I the distraction, but only when you say, won’t do a thing up till!”
“Excellent. Everyone, the trap is fully set. We await the arrival of our target. Patience, men, patience, it could be a while. Those on the street and in the lobby, rotate, always rotate, and remember the guises, or we’re sunk. This is of utmost importance, so for the sake of fourteen billion hases, don’t grask it up!”
Jestu’s voice sounded within his left ear. “Five more minutes, and I’ll be a varni! Just you imagine that!”
Vonnel chuckled. He had seen the guise. Slick green suit, genuine even to the touch; homely yet lovable features, typical for a varni; large cumbersome hooves, larger than most of the species, certainly a fair deal larger than Narin’s, who was one of the shortest of his kind at only three-and-a-half feet in stature; the trademark round eyes like giant discs, protruding from the skull; and varni business attire to cover the tell-tale hints that it was nothing but a suit. To top it off, he carried a pink polka-dotted briefcase, designed to divert eyes from the disguise.
So far no one had ever noticed or grown suspicious. Vonnel chuckled again as he recalled Jestu's demeanor as a varni. If his movements and speech were anything but those of a carefree yet successful varni, then not even Narin descried the difference.
They waited. Every ten minutes, Vonnel checked in with each member of the team. One of the times he caught Gregario before the urinal. “I just a minute, captain, really! I be ready when you say, it just that my streamer was putting up a awful mighty argument, and I couldn’t say no.”
Vonnel stifled a laugh, and admonished him to not abandon his post for thick or thin. “Next time, take one of those tablets I gave you. You won’t stream for a week.”
“But I like streamin’.”
After half an hour, Tannin startled the juices right out of Vonnel’s pores with his usual outburst. “HOW’S…. *ahem*… Sorry, I know… I can’t get this infernal thing right.”
“For Enns’ sakes, man! Scared the righteous tage out of me! You do that one more time, and I swear, you’re out! You got that? And if someone discovers one of us just because you are a grasking ninny, then your hide is hung, my friend. Get it right!”
Silence met the rant, and, for twenty minutes, silence ruled the Crancom playground.
Thirty minutes in, Piro grunted, “The target is arrived.”
Tannin followed almost immediately, being very careful as to his tone. Vonnel could hardly hear him. “Ummm…. He’s here. Quite a posse with him, too, I’m afraid. But we expected that, didn’t we? They are entering the lobby now.”
Vonnel removed his searing tool, silently sliced a hole through the floor, and removed the metal square. He lowered himself very carefully into the subfloor crawlspace, with its cables and ducts, pipes and light fixtures. He tread like a baby on the lam to the nearest grate, and peered through.
“Our Hein Brausley is standing not three feet from where I sit, Von. The leader of the posse is speaking with the clerk, and the rest are standing about. Von, I could grab the case now, but I might not make it.” Jestu sounded both calm and sensible, with a tinge of nervous excitement.
“No, Jes, don’t do it. If you do what you suggest, it’s do or die. Stick to the plan.”
“You’re right, of course. Can’t run in this woman’s outfit, anyway. It was just so tempting. They’re heading to the ascender now. Four guards are going with him.”
“Gregario,” Vonnel said. “Do you still have the key I gave you?”
“Yessir! Right in my pocket!”
“Good. Get in the ascender next to the one of the target. Proceed to the top floor, that is Floor A. Do you understand?”
“Floor A, ascender next to the big Hein. Yes, captain!”
Below him, in the room of Hein Brausley, bearer of the prize and prime executive at Thinedom Inc., he could see two men. The room was dimly lit, like a study in an old estate. Orange glow pervaded the area. One man stood by the main entrance, like a sentry. Vonnel assumed his twin was on the reverse side of the door. Another man stood by the window, looking out over the vast city.
Vonnel composed his course of action, contingent upon the worst, that more men hid within the adjacent rooms. Two, maybe three more men. That many he could handle. More, and it could get ugly. Surprise had to be the key. If any sounded an alarm, the whole mission would be in serious jeopardy, and his own life would be all but forfeit.
He smiled. This was the meaning of life. Not the reward, but the means. The method.
Vonnel whispered across the brain waves, as if the men below could hear if he transmitted normally. “Hit it, Narin. Main entry room, Quarters A-44.”
He heard a Rightio in his mind, and an instant later the lights beneath him flicked off. What followed happened in the time it takes a bullet to strike its mark. Vonnel settled his sights on the human form by the door, the solid body illuminated bright green within his visor. Simultaneously he noted that the lights beneath the doors to the adjoining rooms were still lit, and what’s more, he sensed a shadow behind one. He fired two silent tasers, and both the man at the door and the one at the window fell before they could react, devoid of senses.
Vonnel deftly removed the grate and dropped to the floor soundlessly.
“Got ‘em. Back on, Narin.” The lights gradually rose to their former candlelit hue.
His next hurdle would be eliminating the guard(s) in the tangent rooms without alerting the others. And he must be swift, for the ascenders were pressurized racers, covering the space between the lobby floor and the top floor half a mile above it with enviable speed. All with the comforts of its occupants at maximum, with a soft start and gentle braking, seamless transitions from acceleration to deceleration: an overlooked wonder of modern engineering.
It would press him thin. Any moment Hein Brausley and his troupe would reach the floor. Gregario may buy him a minute or two with his diversion, but that was the best that could be hoped. For the first time he mused whether he had dealt himself sufficient time. That thought lasted a mere fraction of a moment. No time for regrets; time is what is made of it.
“Captain? They’s here.”
“Divert, Gregario! Make a spectacle of yourself.”
Vonnel could hear the pleasant humor in his voice. “Shoo thing, Captain, I be happy to!” There could be no doubt of that. If there was only one thing the boy was good at, and it was hard to argue the point, that one thing was making a spectacle of himself.
With no time for further thinking, Vonnel depressed the steel button for the door to the room where he had sensed the shadow. The door zipped into the wall, revealing a guard in casual profile, weapons holstered, no care in the world. Before he could realize his predicament, Vonnel hit him with two tasers. He collapsed to the floor in a heap, convulsions shuddering his senseless form, contentment replaced with shock and dismay, locked on his features until consciousness returned.
Outside of the room a commotion arose, and a hasty exclamation came Crancom from Gregario. “It’s workin’! His posse is distracted, but the Hein is a-comin’ your way, Captain! He all yours!”
As planned, more or less. Why should Hein Brausley await the return of his guards, with his quarters staffed with more guards?
Vonnel scanned the remainder of the room quickly and then scanned the other room off the main, as well as a water room and a closet. All was empty. He gathered the bodies in the gloomy primary quarter, dragging them into the bedroom with the third body, where they would remain hidden. He then crept into a dark corner not ten feet from the entranceway. Before he could situate himself, the door slid open and the target stepped inside, oblivious of any danger. He carried a small round case in his left hand.
The door clunked shut, and Vonnel slunk up behind him. Just before he reached him, he tapped a button on his visor, jamming all Crancom frequencies within five feet except his own. The Hein was helpless.
Aaaaand…! Cut! That’s all for today! Find out next time what happens when Vonnel confronts Hein Brausley for his invaluable device, and how it all falls apart!
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