The Ghost

Chapter 5 - Dumb waiter

As Ryan neared the elevator, the doors opened and he was confronted by several burly security guards armed with Glock 22s. He allowed the group to slip past and as the doors closed he hit B. If he wasn't getting out, the least he could do was protect MRG-241.

It was dark with only the faint light of the lab offering any clue as to where Ryan was. He ran towards the office but was stopped in his tracks by what greeted him. Papers strewn across the floor, filing cabinets rifled, the desk upturned and poor old Mike slumped in his chair. His left eye was purple and swollen, his left hand crushed. He was covered in blood and whimpering. Whoever was down here had sure done a number on him. Ryan sobbed at the sight of his mentor, his friend. How could they do this to an old man?

Suddenly, Mike coughed, the fresh rush of blood masking his words.

"Why Mike? Ryan pleaded. We were onto such a good thing."

Mike coughed. "The retirement plan here ain't all that. Falconi offered me a million to tweak our formula. We wanted to save lives. He wanted to take them. He knew the Russians or the Chinese would pay good money to get their hands on the technology. An invisible army. Hell, I was sold on the idea when he proposed our boys could use it to bring peace. But Ryan, I never intended for any of this to happen. I'm just an old fool." His voice trailed off and as a single tear ran down his cheek, he looked beyond where Ryan stood towards the store room. "My beautiful Lex." And with that, Mike slipped away.    

"Shit!" Ryan heard the lift activate. It would only be minutes before he had company. He closed Mike's eyelids, kissed him on the head, and said a brief goodbye.

"The research. Where would you have hidden it Mike?" Ryan scanned the room for any clues before heading to the store room. Confronted by broken boxes and the carnage that desperation brings, he looked up and saw the picture. Ryan's first day at BioChem. He looked like he should have still been in school; so fresh faced, grinning like a fool, and his eyes alight with excitement. Old Mike looking like he wanted to be anywhere but in front of the camera, resting his hand on Ryan's shoulder.

"Damn you Mike!" screamed Ryan as he smashed his fist into the picture. Two things happened. The first. Ryan saw his bloodied hand. If the skin was damaged, the cloak of invisibility was lifted. The second. As the frame fell and smashed on the floor, there it was. The formula. "Mike, you old dog!" Ryan grabbed the scrap of paper and felt his eyes drawn towards the far wall. The dumb waiter! Not the easiest way out. But the only way out. Ryan squeezed in and headed up to the mail room. Below him he heard the crushing of glass underfoot as his pursuers closed in.