Ensemble [Book 1: SEKTOR V Trilogy]

Chapter 5: Squaring Up

Chapter 5: Squaring Up

His pain finally starting to subside, Stanley sat alone in the back seat of a driverless car taking him from Atlantic City to downtown Philadelphia. Lebanchek, who was in a car directly behind him, had let him know that he was being monitored at all times. Big Brother issues aside, Stanley noticed that the amenities were a lot fancier than what he'd expected. Roomy, black soft leather throughout, with a center console area that looked a lot like a minibar.

Stanley shook his head. It's nice to see our tax dollars hard at work.

He was trying to relax but couldn't get his right leg to settle down on command. He knew that going into a meeting like this in a compromised state would be suicide. But he took some solace in the fact that these asshats were at least smart enough to let him clean up and get into some fresh clothes. As he continued to trim his fingernails orally, he communicated with Lebanchek: "I don't think we went into enough detail about what happened and what we should expect when we get downtown."

After a few seconds pause, Lebanchek replied remotely, "Look, Dial, we know all we need to know. These are the only guys you dealt with; they were contacted, and you're going to give them 'their' 725 grand in an hour. It doesn't get much more straightforward than that."

Stanley wasn't done. "For you, maybe, but it's a bit more complicated for me. My family is in real danger. If something should go wrong, they'll be at risk."

He heard Lebanchek laughing on the other end.

"You're quite amazing, Mr. Dial. Obviously, they are at risk. You, and you alone, put them at risk. Do I need to remind you that the 725,000 you're giving them is Ministry money? Do I also need to remind you that without this money your family would already be dead? You will do exactly what we say, when we say it.

"Just don't forget what you're supposed to do. We'll be close by and listening at all times. We'll come in when we need to. You just concentrate on your part. Pay what you owe them—again with our money. Don't do anything stupid and you and your family will live to see another day."

My family will live to see another day. Stanley could feel his anxiety growing as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"For now at least, you shouldn't be concerned about your family." Lebanchek added. "They're safe and under our watchful eye."

Stanley looked out the tinted window. Lebanchek's words made him feel a bit better. Not much, but at this point, he was willing to embrace any feeling of improvement, no matter how small it was.

Throughout the trip, Stanley heard occasional Ministry chatter associated with details of the upcoming plan through the driverless car's communication system. Given all the cloak-and-dagger shenanigans he'd been forced to endure, it was obvious to Stanley—and to the Ministry no doubt—that the real brains behind this time travel operation went far beyond the handlers he'd been dealing with. He also knew that the only reason he was still alive was due to the fact that he had a direct connection to said handlers.

The Ministry needed him, which was obviously a good thing when it came to self- and family preservation. Still, Stanley needed to make sure that the insurance he currently held was not a short-term policy. If it was, he and his family would soon become expendable. If he had to, he would lie in order to maintain his value. He also knew that this could only buy him some time, but some time was clearly better than no time.

Stanley heard one of the Ministry men say, "Pulling into position." He sat up, his stomach starting to churn. Swallowing became harder as his mouth began to dry up.

"Dial, you're almost on"—Stanley recognized Lebanchek on the line—"we're getting our assets in place. Are you 100 percent sure of the address, floor and unit number?"

Stanley paused for a second to make sure he was sure. How could he forget something like that? He'd been in that room twice. It was 325 North Front Street, third floor, unit 333. Finally, he answered, "Yes, I'm sure."

He looked at his watch. It was 3:24 p.m. They were on time. He was beyond nervous but didn't think it showed after catching a glimpse of his reflection in the tinted window.

As Stanley exited the car with the briefcase in his right hand, Lebanchek began communicating with him via the two-way radio they'd placed near his eardrum. "Dial, can you hear me?"

"Yes, the volume is fine, the clarity is fine. Let's just do this already," quipped Stanley.

"Relax, cowboy, you'll get your chance."

Stanley entered the building through a heavy glass door and proceeded through the second steel door situated on his right that led to the stairway. After climbing two flights, he swapped the briefcase to his left hand and opened the door to the third-floor hallway and paused to catch his breath. He was now alone. Well, not entirely since government agents were in place...somewhere.

The last time he was here, he was filled with so much hope. He was going to fix everything. Now, just a few weeks later, everything was broken. I have to fix this. This is my last chance to set things right. I will...not...fail. Stanley took a deep breath, bit his lower lip and knocked. And waited...

No answer.

As he lifted his fist to knock again, the door cracked open. Stanley slowly pushed it inward and peered into the room. It was 3:30 in the afternoon but the darkness inside made it feel closer to midnight. "Hello?"

Someone grabbed his left arm and yanked him inside, kicking the door shut behind him. Stanley swore that after this was all over he'd create a brand new word that better described the excruciating pain in his sprained shoulder. "Agony," even with the most colorful adjectives imaginable preceding it, would be wildly insufficient. "Excruciating horror" was close but still not enough.

Suddenly, a light blinded him. He threw up his right hand to block the glare, squinting. Someone shoved him into a seat that wasn't there last time he was here. Stanley could see it a bit better now as his eyes began to adjust. The room was stark. The lamp stood a few feet away from him, adjacent to the couch he remembered. Other than the new chair, the room was unchanged. And yes, the same two guys he had been dealing with from the get-go, Mr. Tree Hand and Mr. Teller, from Penn and Teller fame, were the only ones in the room with him.

"Where is it, dumb-ass?" snarled Tree Hand.

"The money?" Stanley replied.

"No," quipped Teller, "the big bag of peanut M&Ms, you dope." Both of them chuckled, marveling at their self-perceived brilliance and wit.

Nervous, Stanley reached for the briefcase and handed it to Tree Hand. "Here you go."

Before Tree Hand could open the first latch, a high-pitched whistle whizzed past Stanley's right ear. A split second later, a red dot and a drizzle of blood appeared on Tree Hand's forehead. Startled, Stanley glanced around, then back at Tree Hand whose eyes were now frozen in place. Seconds later, Tree Hand toppled directly on top of Stanley, knocking him out of the chair as both men crumpled to the floor.

"What the—" Stanley blurted.

Straining in vain to free himself, Stanley managed to see Teller spin towards the entrance and pull his gun as the door flew wide open with a kick. A Ministry agent charged in and fired several shots, one of which took Teller out. The large body draped over Stanley served as a human shield as he felt the impacts of the remaining bullets entering Tree Hand's flesh.

Within seconds, Stanley felt someone, presumably one of Lebanchek's men, grab and pull him out from under the dead man. A couple of minutes later, Stanley found himself standing safely outside the building, out of breath and completely numb to his surroundings, thankful he'd survived the bloody chaos.