CHAPTER 73: 73

Bran’s sharp eyes roamed the smooth surfaces of the walls, ceiling, and floor, looking for any cracks or crevasses that might hide a secret passageway or two.

But no matter how much he looked around, the A-grade, commercial offices looked like A-grade, commercial offices, complete with complementary coffee in the waiting area and a pair of smiling receptionists.

One receptionist caught his eye and smiled.

Bran scowled and looked away.

There was only one person he wanted to smile at him right now and he wasn’t here.

"I understand she’s in a meeting," said Morgan to the other receptionist. "But I’m sure she’d be happy to postpone whatever it is to meet me first once she knows who I’ve brought along."

"I apologise on behalf of The Unity, but Ms. Chau gave us strict instruction not to disturb her for the duration of this particular meeting. Rest assured, I will forward a message from you to her at the earliest convenience." This other receptionist was smiling too, but it was more of a stiff, I-must-smile-lest-my-boss-fires-me sort of smile.

Morgan, not smiling, sighed and finally stood back from the reception desk. "Fine. Do that." He started towards the set of executive-style waiting seats where Bran sat, then turned back. "As soon as possible," he said.

Both receptionists nodded. "Of course."

"Evil plan not going well?" Bran asked lightly as Morgan took a seat opposite him. They were in a corner of the lobby, out of the way of the main entrance, and right next to a veritable forest of possibly-real-but-difficult-to-verify potted plants.

Morgan smiled that familiar ’Malcolm’ grimace. "It’s hard to make things go your way if you’re not God," he replied.

Bran nodded. "True enough. In that case, I’ll be off then," he said and rose.

Morgan’s friendly demeanor evaporated and his hand reached into his jacket. Bran didn’t know if he had a gun or something else, but he could sense that the threat was real. "You’re not going anywhere."

Bran rolled his eyes. "What, you really want me to take a piss in the flower pots over there? Not sure if the receptionists, or your boss, will like that..."

Morgan’s eyes narrowed but Bran could see the doubt in them.

He stepped towards Morgan and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "You know me, I’m not an idiot. This is your territory. If I run, well, where would I even run to? I don’t know where we are and you know how bad my sense of direction is."

The doubt grew stronger in Morgan’s eyes. "If you try to escape, you won’t get far."

"That’s what I’m saying," said Bran. He raised an eyebrow. "So, can I nip out then?"

Morgan looked sideways as he considered this, his eyes glancing over the potted plants. "Fine," he said, almost with a hiss. "But get back here ASAP."

"Thanks, Malcolm," said Bran, pretending he didn’t notice the other man’s expression soften slightly at the sound of his other name.

It probably won’t take too much more to get him talking, thought Bran to himself as he went over to the reception. "Sorry about my colleague," he said in a low voice to the two women, leaning a little over the desktop as he did. "He messed up in a big way so he’s trying to impress our boss right now."

The two women glanced at each other and gave knowing sighs. They knew the type. "It’s part of the job," said the one who Morgan had talked to earlier.

"Right, yeah..." Bran gave a furtive glance toward Morgan who was starting to get suspicious. "Actually, I was wondering if you’d maybe help me stall him. I don’t even really need to go to this meeting and I have a load of work just sitting on my desk-"

"Not a problem," said the other receptionist.

"Great, thank you both so much."

"What are you doing?" asked Morgan, starting to get up.

Bran turned and gave him a dismissive wave. "Just asking for the directions for the bathroom," he called back. "Thanks," he said to the two women then strode over to the entrance of the lobby.

Morgan who gave him a suspicious look, but before he could pursue, Bran nodded with his chin toward the flower pots. "Be back soon," he said and quickly left at an ever quickening pace.

If he recalled correctly, there had been a staff area then a bathroom sign to the right just before the lobby and he resisted the urge to look back to see if Morgan was after him until he was safely inside.

Once he was, he made a beeline for the second last of the stalls, cutting past the handful of men in business suits at the urinals, and shut the door behind him, locking it. Next, he closed the lid, and regarded the wall directly behind it. The building was one of those new, fancy looking commercial buildings that had popped up like daisies in the last few years and the craftmanship showed.

Where there really should have been a proper finish, with some kind of coverage, was instead a painted plaster wall. Bad for the building’s score, but good for Bran.

Outside a pair of men were doing a bit of multitasking: dealing with their natural needs and pissing.

"Did you see all the investors that came here the other day? Our of The Unity’s offices?" asked one man.

"See? No, but I heard about them. Didn’t Mallory & Chalk come too? Why would they be interested in a tech company anyway?" said another man.

"You don’t get it." There was the sound of zipping. "Have you seen the thing Arthur and his guys are working on? It’s crazy. It’s going to be the next big thing!"

"Hey, hey, hey, don’t turn this way. Geez..."

"Ah... Sorry."

Bran shuddered. He was a guy, but he found most members of his own gender pretty gross, Misha being the grand exception.

"No, but seriously." It was the first guy again. "Physical. Computing. That’s what I heard they’re calling it." He said this last bit of gossip in a whisper.

"Physical computing? Isn’t that already a thing?"

"Shh! Not so loud! I..." the first guy’s voice dropped again, "I have a friend who works there. Showed me a demo, you know, on the side, so I’m not really supposed to tell anyone else about it, but... you know, it’s amazing."

The door to the bathroom swung open and yet more unhygienic humans entered. The two gossipers stopped gossiping so Bran thought it best to get a move on.

He wiped his hand on his shirt, raised it to his mouth, steeled himself, then bit his thumb. Hard.

Immediately, he tasted the sharp tang of blood in his mouth and he quickly moved to wipe it onto the wall while trying not to think about all the germs that may or may not be cramming themselves into the wound. Once there was enough on the wall, he wiped his thumb, then bunched a fistful of shirt around it. Experience told him it wouldn’t take too long to stop bleeding.

In the meantime, he reached out with his other hand so that his palm just barely grazed the wall. He closed his eyes, held the power in his fingertips, then waited until he heard the bathroom door open again.

Finally it did, and, when it banged closed again, he released the energy.

A thing sprinkling of dust cascaded down the wall as the deep gash appeared in it. He drew more energy, waited, then assaulted the wall again just as the door outside banged shut.

After just two more volleys of this, and no small amount of dust later, Bran found himself looking through a neatly cut hole in the wall. He knew this amount of dust would draw attention, so he quickly, but quietly, stepped up on the closed toilet, into his escape route, and out the other side.

As Bran had been desperately hoping, this staff area wasn’t a break room but a storage room crammed with cleaning supplies and equipment. Even more luckily, there were sets of cleaners outfits messily stuffed in one of the higher shelves. Hope beginning to thud in his heart, Bran grabbed a light blue shirt, navy blue trousers and quickly switched them for his own. Next, he grabbed a cap, a pair of Wellington boots and a yellow staff vest, pulled them all on then turned to regard the weapons arsenal.

Much like the building, much of the equipment was over engineered and hard to operate, so Bran opted for a classic mop and bucket set up.

It didn’t take long for one of the bathroom users to realise that there was perhaps a little bit too much dust in the air and raised the alarm. Unfortunately for him, but much more fortunately for Bran, he mistook the substance for smoke, and triggered the fire alarm.

Out in the hallway, no one paid attention to the new cleaner as he struck out on his own, heading to a different set of stairs. While the alarm was good, it added chaos to the situation that he could take advantage of, he did not want to be included in any headcounts. While the office workers here wouldn’t know the cleaners by sight, he was pretty sure the other cleaners would.

But that was when Bran’s luck ran out.

He stopped at an intersection on recently vacated floor and looked down the left corridor at all the glass clad offices with fancy nameplates.

He looked right.

More glass. More nameplates.

Bran swallowed and took a deep breath.

He was lost.