THE PHOENIX AND THE FORM: Chapter Four
In Lord Harrington’s opulent study, sunlight slanted through the oriel windows, dappling the polished oak floor. Lord Albus Harrington, impeccably dressed, sat behind his massive desk, a faint tension etched in the lines around his eyes. Opposite him stood Reynolds, his head of security, a tall and stern man with a meticulous nature.
“Reynolds,” Lord Harrington began, his
voice crisp and laced with authority as he steepled his fingers. “The dinner
party is tonight, and I expect nothing short of absolute perfection in our
security arrangements. This event is crucial for my business alliances and
maintaining my reputation.”
Raymond Reynolds, a man whose face was
etched with a stoic expression offered a curt nod. “Of course. My men are
prepped and we’re finalizing the details with Ms. Blue’s catering service.”
He was dressed in his security uniform, his
gun holstered at his hip.
“Well, what’s the hold-up?” Lord Harrington
inquired, a hint of impatience flickering in his eyes.
“A last-minute addition on their end,”
Reynolds clarified. “We’re just finalizing the background checks.”
Harrington sighed, “Fine, but it better not
cost me. I’ve already spent a fortune on ensuring this evening is a success.” He
brooded. “What about that security system you had me purchase?” he inquired;
his tone clipped.
“The Sentinel X900 is fully operational,”
Reynolds assured him. “We’ve run multiple diagnostics to ensure its efficiency.
However, there is one concern I’d like to address. The guests’ personal
devices—phones, tablets, and other gadgets like smartwatches and smart
bracelets—pose a significant security risk. They could be used for unauthorized
recordings, data breaches, and even hacking attempts.”
Lord Harrington leaned back in his chair,
considering the weight of Reynolds’ words. “I see your point, Reynolds. But
wouldn’t some guests find this intrusive? They might see it as a bit much.”
“Possibly,” Reynolds admitted with a shrug.
“But it’s a necessary measure to ensure the integrity of our security. We can
frame the request in a way that emphasizes the exclusivity and confidentiality
of the event. Our guests should understand that we’re prioritizing their safety
and the security of sensitive discussions.”
Lord Harrington nodded slowly, a flicker of
approval in his gaze. “Very well. Draft the email Reynolds, and I’ll review it
before we send it out. Make sure the language is firm but polite. We can’t
afford any mishaps, especially not with the caliber of guests we’re expecting.”
“Understood,” Reynolds replied with a curt
nod. “I’ll have the draft ready for your approval by the end of the day. My
team and I will make sure the dinner party goes off without a hitch.”
Lord Harrington’s gaze remained steady. “I
trust you will, Reynolds. Failure is not an option.”
There was a soft knock that echoed from the
heavy wooden door of the study. The door opened quietly to reveal the butler,
an elderly man with a dignified bearing.
“Excuse me, my lord,” the butler began,
bowing slightly. “Your guest has arrived.”
“Very well.” Harrington replied, rising
from his leather armchair. He straightened his suit jacket and came out from
behind his desk, heading towards the door. As he passed Reynolds by, he stopped
and cast one last look at him. “Don’t embarrass me, Reynolds.”
“Of course not,” Reynolds responded, and
watched him leave.
Harrington followed the butler out of the
study, the thick carpet muffling their footsteps as they made their way down
the grand hallway. The castle was a testament to both medieval grandeur and
modern luxury. Its stone walls were adorned with priceless artworks; and
state-of-the-art security measures were subtly integrated into the decor.
As they approached the entrance hall, Lord
Harrington’s eyes fell upon his guest, who stood in the center of the room,
radiating an aura of quiet power and sophistication.
The man was tall, standing at an impressive
6’5”, with sleek-backed black hair that gleamed under the light. He wore an
impeccably tailored all-black suit, crafted from the finest Italian wool. The
single-breasted jacket with peak lapels hugged his athletic frame perfectly,
the black silk tie resting against a crisp white dress shirt, providing a stark
yet classic contrast.
His trousers were slim-cut, tailored to
highlight his long legs, and ended just above polished black leather Oxford
shoes. Draped over his arm was a long black cashmere overcoat.
In his right hand, he carried a cane, an
exquisite piece—black with a silver wolf’s head as the handle. The wolf’s eyes,
set with small emeralds, gleamed in the light.
Pinned to his lapel was a small, emerald,
mistletoe brooch. On his right hand, he wore a striking ring of a snake biting
its own tail, the ouroboros, crafted in silver with tiny black pearl eyes.
As Lord Harrington stepped into the foyer,
the guest turned to face him, a subtle smile playing on his lips. “If it isn’t
my guest of honor.” The man’s smile spread across his face as he spread out his
arms in an open embrace.
As Blue’s sleek black limousine, glided to
a halt in the cobblestone courtyard, she stepped out with an effortless grace,
her movements imbued with a quiet confidence. Her left leg emerged first,
revealing a glimpse of her smooth and toned skin through the slit of her gown,
before her high heel touched down. She stepped out of the car at Lord
Harrington’s castle, her heels sinking slightly into the cobblestone courtyard.
The castle loomed above her—a centuries-old building with its high turrets and
ivy-clad walls.
Her midnight blue, silk dress, hugged her
curves, and its cathedral-length train flowed like a midnight river. The moon
cast its glow upon her gown, as she ascended the grand staircase, the fabric
rustling softly.
The distant voices and murmurings of her
fellow guests floated through the air. Steps echoed, her heels clicking a
resolute rhythm, a steadfast staccato in the quiet of the evening.
Her earrings—delicate chandeliers, danced
with every step, their facets flickering like candle flames. Her hair,
intricately woven revealed the nape of her neck that a neckband adorned—a
constellation of sapphires with a ruby at its center—a single red ember, amidst
a sea, of fiery blue.
As she came up to the castle doors, an
entourage of Harrington’s guards awaited the guests. Next to them stood an
archway detector. Alongside it was a baggage scanner.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please surrender all
electronic devices, phones, tablets, smartwatches, and smart bracelets, for
safekeeping until the party is over.” A female guard called out, holding a tray
out toward the guests.
“My phone has confidential information,”
protested a man in a gray suit with graying hair.
“I’m sorry, sir, you’ll still have to
surrender it. You all received an email informing you about this security
measure, but rest assured sir, your phone will be kept safe and be returned to
you unhampered with.” Said a man standing by the archway.
“Madam?” the lady said as Blue approached.
She shook her head, signaling she wasn’t carrying any devices with her. The female
guard held out a tray in which Blue placed her purse. It was led through the
scanner. The man seated at the scanner craned his neck, his eyes narrowing as
Blue’s purse went through. There was a moment of silence. Blue’s confident
expression remained unbroken. The lights flashed green. “She’s good,” he said.
Blue passed through the archway and was
handed back her purse. She stepped forward, making her way through the castle’s
doors.
The quartet, positioned near the mammoth double
doors of the entrance hall, was composed of two violinists, a cellist, and a
violist. Their repertoire for the evening included a selection of classical
pieces, each chosen to enhance the elegance and grandeur of the event. As Blue
made her entrance, the quartet was playing the invigorating and triumphant
“Spring” from Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons.
With her arrival, the music swelled, as if
in league with her presence. Its vibrant and dynamic tones—in perfect harmony
with her movements. She captured the attention of the guests. Their conversations
pausing momentarily; their gazes drawn toward the entrance. As Blue glided with
fluid elegance, “Spring” played on, the cadenced rise and fall of her hips
almost dancing to the music. Her midnight blue silk gown, catching the light,
appeared almost luminescent against the backdrop of the castle’s grand
entrance. The train trailed behind her, the fabric of her gown rippling like a
moonlit lake, its luminescence mirroring the crescendos of the violins.
The grand entrance hall of the castle was
an opulent space, meticulously prepared to host the evening’s distinguished
guests before they proceeded to the dining room. The hall itself was an
architectural marvel, a blend of medieval fortitude, Renaissance elegance, and
modern renovations.
As the guests stepped through the towering,
ornately carved wooden doors, they were enveloped in an atmosphere of timeless
grandeur. The floor was a mosaic of polished marble, its gleaming surface
reflecting the soft ambient light that filled the space. At the center of the
hall, an exquisite chandelier hung like a celestial constellation, its crystal
pendants catching and refracting the light in a dazzling display of brilliance.
Along the walls, rich tapestries depicted
historic battles and pastoral scenes, their vibrant colors and intricate
details a testament to the castle’s storied past. Between these tapestries,
suits of armor stood sentinel, their polished surfaces gleaming under the
chandelier’s light, each one a testament to the castle’s impressive collection.
Flanking the hall were grand arched windows,
draped with heavy velvet curtains in olive green, tied back with gold tassels
to reveal the night outside. The moonlight streaming in through the windows
mingled with the warm glow of the many candelabras strategically placed
throughout the room. Each candelabra was an art piece in itself, wrought from
gold and adorned with delicate engravings, casting a soft, flickering light
that added to the room’s ethereal atmosphere.
In the center of the hall, a series of
elegant round tables were set for the initial reception. Each table was covered
with pristine white linen and set with fine china and crystal glassware, filled
with hors d’oeuvres and champagne respectively. Lord Harrington’s status
symbol; a display of his wealth and taste for luxury. Elaborate floral
arrangements adorned the tables, featuring a mix of roses, lilies, and exotic
blooms, their fragrant scents mingling with the room’s heady perfume.
There was a grand staircase at the far end
of the hall. Its twin flights ascended with curved balustrades of dark mahogany
and gold, culminating in a graceful landing leading further into the depths of
the castle. A red carpet adorned the staircase, flowing down its steps like a
river of luxury.
Blue’s eyes swept the hall as she moved
with purpose, each step taken with controlled grace. As guests mingled and
chatted, the soft strains of classical music filled the air, their melodies
floating through the hall.
Diplomats and dignitaries from various
countries conversed in hushed tones, their tailored tuxedos and evening gowns
reflecting their high status. Men wore classic black, their bow-ties and pocket
squares subtle, yet distinctive touches of personal style. Women, draped in
luxurious silk and satin fabrics, shimmered in evening gowns. Jewels glittered
at their throats and wrists, adding to the room’s sparkle.
Business moguls and tycoons discussed
matters of finance and industry. Clad in bespoke, cut, from the finest cloth.
The women wore designer gowns in rich hues—emerald, deep reds, and royal
blues—each dress a work of art. Their hair was styled to perfection, in
intricate updos, or sleek cascading waves.
Artists and celebrities added flair to the
gathering. From the men’s avant-garde ensembles, to the women’s bold
fashion-forward gowns, with daring cuts and vibrant colors. Nobles wore tails,
white ties, and vintage gowns; their attire evoking an earlier, more formal
age.
Near the grand staircase, scholars and
intellectuals engaged in animated discussion. Their attire, understated, yet no
less sophisticated, favored tweeds and muted tones that spoke of intellectual
pursuits, rather than ostentatious wealth.
As they mingled, the air was filled with
the soft hum of conversation, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter and
the clinking of glasses.
Victor slipped through the side door into
the castle’s kitchen, his waiter’s uniform already making him blend seamlessly
with the staff. He was dressed impeccably in a crisp white shirt, black vest,
and tailored black trousers. His hands were gloved, the gloves feeling as
uncomfortable as his bow tie. The air was filled with the rich aroma of
roasting meats and freshly baked bread, a symphony of scents that danced
together in the warm, bustling space.
In his mind’s eye, Victor had envisioned a
medieval castle kitchen, but that was not what he found. The kitchen was
outfitted with an island that served as a bustling hub of activity, discreet
spice racks opened with a light press, and its wooden shelves were lined with
jars of exotic flavors.
The fireplace nook, once the heart of the
kitchen’s warmth, now housed a modern range cooker, its sleek lines juxtaposed
against the ancient stone. Massive wooden beams stretched across the vaulted
ceiling, supporting iron chandeliers that bathed the space in a warm, golden
glow. The walls, clad in ancient stone, held the history of centuries past,
their rugged surfaces softened by patches of Castle Cream paint that had
weathered time, with grace.
The head chef, Micheal entered the bustling
kitchen. His voice, commanding and tinged with a hint of steel, cut through the
noise that surrounded them.
“Listen up, everyone,” the chef began, his
eyes narrowing slightly as he addressed the attentive faces of his team.
“Tonight is not just any night. We have some of the most influential guests
this castle has ever seen, and they expect nothing short of perfection from
us.”
He paused for a moment, letting the gravity
of his words settle in. The kitchen fell silent. “Each plate that leaves this
kitchen reflects our skill, our dedication, and our pride,” the chef continued,
his tone unwavering. “We cannot afford any mistakes. Every dish must be
impeccable, and every presentation—flawless. Our reputation—and our client’s
reputation—is on the line tonight.”
There was a sternness in the chef’s voice,
a subtle undercurrent of warning that conveyed the consequences of falling
short. Victor sensed the weight of it. “Precision, timing, and attention to
detail. These are our priorities tonight,” the chef emphasized, his gaze
sweeping over the assembled waitstaff. “You are ambassadors of this kitchen,
representatives of our standards of excellence. Don’t disappoint.”
With that final admonition, the chef
dismissed them, his expression firm yet resolute. Victor and his fellow servers
exchanged glances, a silent acknowledgment of the challenge ahead.
Dr. Victor Frank observed the kitchen staff
with an admiration of the symphony of motion within the castle kitchen. The
staff, clad in crisp whites, moved with practiced efficiency, a testament to
their culinary professionalism.
The head Chef stood at the center of the
action. He issued explicit instructions, his gaze sweeping the various
stations. The team responded seamlessly, each member a vital cog in the
well-oiled machine.
Experienced chefs in their signature white
jackets and toques conferred in low tones, their focus unwavering as they
planned the next course. Sous chefs, their movements precise and confident,
relayed instructions and ensured a smooth flow between stations.
Line cooks, the backbone of the operation,
wielded their knives with practiced ease. Fresh herbs, just plucked from the
castle gardens that morning, were chopped with rhythmic precision. Each
ingredient, meticulously measured and artfully arranged, became a building
block for the culinary masterpieces taking shape.
The rhythmic clatter of pots and pans
mingled with the satisfying sizzle of meat hitting hot stoves. A young
apprentice, his eyes shining with eager curiosity, learned the art of
stock-making from a seasoned veteran, their collaboration a microcosm of the
knowledge transfer that underpinned the kitchen’s success.
In a corner, a pastry chef, her hands
moving with the grace of a sculptor, transformed mounds of dough into delicate
works of art. Nearby, a team of kitchen porters, their movements unseen but
crucial, ensured a smooth flow of ingredients and maintained the spotless order
of the kitchen.
The larder staff meticulously managed the
castle’s provisions from the pantry. Every ingredient, from the finest cuts of
meat to the freshest seasonal vegetables, was accounted for with practiced
efficiency.
A team of dedicated butlers, their
movements silent and coordinated, prepared for the upcoming service. In the
cool, cavernous depths of the wine cellar, the cellarers oversaw the castle’s
impressive collection of wines, their domain a quiet contrast to the frenetic
energy above.
Victor’s gaze finally landed on his fellow servers.
They navigated the bustling kitchen with practiced ease, exchanging nods and
brief smiles as they collected trays of exquisite hors d’oeuvres and chilled
champagne flutes. Theirs was the final act in the culinary ballet, ensuring a
seamless transition from kitchen to table.
But Victor’s mind was focused on a singular
task. He navigated the chaotic intensity, making his way to the pantry. Ensuring
no one was watching, he left behind the clatter of pots and pans and stepped
into the cool silence.
The pantry was a narrow alcove, its stone
walls lined with shelves. Jars of preserved fruits and pickled vegetables stood
at the ready, their contents waiting patiently for the adept hands that knew
how to use them.
Scanning the room, his gaze fell on the
ventilation shaft. He took out from his pocket the fork he had retrieved from
the utensils that security had approved. He unscrewed the handle from the false
fork head, revealing a hex key screwdriver.
He set to work unbolting the grille. Pulling
it off, he looked inside. Just as Blue had said, a small duffel bag was hidden
inside. He pulled it out, his gloved fingers wrapping around the sturdy handle
and unzipped it. Inside the bag, he found the repeaters, the indicator
bracelets, plus two earpieces, wireless and discreet; color-coded to his and
Blue’s skin tone.
He paused for a moment, realizing the
immensity of what he was about to do. He had never committed a crime before.
His entire life, even when he hadn’t eaten for days, he had always stuck to the
straight and narrow. If he did this, he knew he wouldn’t be the same man
anymore.
He took out his indicator bracelet and put
it on. Next, he took out one repeater, Blue’s words ringing in his ears,
“Remember, after you turn one of these on, we have one hour before they
self-destruct.” He turned on the repeater.
Now if Blue was to be believed, he should
practically be invisible to the Castle’s cameras and AI system. He pulled out
Blue’s indicator bracelet and earpiece. His next task was to get them to her,
in the grand entrance hall.
There was a noise at the door. Victor’s
head swiveled; he saw the shadow of a figure in the slit. His heart nearly
leaped out of his chest. Could there have been a more incriminating moment to
have gotten caught in?
There were muffled voices outside. The
shadow, danced around. Victor held his breath, his head pounding with the
frantic rhythm of his heart.
The silhouette lingered at the door, then
moved on. A sigh of relief escaped Victor’s mouth. He wasted no more time. He
quickly pocketed the repeaters, carrying the three of them. Three repeaters,
three locations, each one closer and closer to the vault door.
He held Blue’s bracelet and earpiece in his
hand. Putting the duffel bag back into the ventilation shaft, he sealed it
again and then turned on his earpiece.
“Prometheus, can you hear me?” There was a
silence.
“I can hear you loud and clear Victor.” the
voice in his ear said. “Have you reached Ms. Blue?”
“No. But I’m on my way.”
He stepped out of the pantry, glancing
around to ensure no one had noticed his brief absence. With the duffel bag
secured again, he rejoined the flow of activity; he adjusted his black vest;
collected a tray of champagne flutes, and made his way toward the grand
entrance hall. The grandeur of the castle seemed to amplify as he approached,
the distant sound of a string quartet playing a piece, adding to the elegant
atmosphere. As he stepped into the hall, the guests swirled around him—a sea of
silk and jewels.
Victor moved with purpose, his steps
measured and his expression neutral. He spotted Blue standing by a table with
skewers and other light fruit snacks.
He approached slowly, with one hand holding
up the silver tray with champagne glasses, while the other, behind his back,
held the indicator and earpiece. She saw him approaching him and a smile
caressed her cheeks.
That was when he noticed a guard moving to
stand by her. He slowed his pace, thinking; she noticed and cast a glance
around her. Seeing the guard standing by her, she let out an inaudible punt.
Victor kept up his stride, trying to be inconspicuous. He arrived at a group of
eclectically dressed individuals.
He spun to face them. “Gentlemen, ladies,
might I interest you in some refreshments?” he asked with a half bow. Blue,
grasping the gesture, stepped forward, walking past him as she swiped the
bracelet and earpiece from his hand. She turned away from the guard as she
discreetly put them on. The guests, having selected drinks for themselves,
continued their chatter. Victor spun once again, and gave her a curt nod, then
moved ahead.
“Victor,” the voice came from his earpiece.
“Nice save, you’re a natural. Do you remember the locations?” her voice barely
a whisper.
“Yes, heading to them now,” he replied, his
voice equally low.
“Okay good. Prometheus, keep this
communication line open and Victor, don’t hesitate to tell us if you encounter
a problem.”
“Aye aye captain!” Victor responded.
“Okay, be careful, be discreet, don’t let
anyone see you.”
Victor navigated through the labyrinthine
corridors of Lord Harrington’s castle. Each step echoed softly against the
ancient stone walls, a stark contrast to the lively ambiance that reverberated
from the grand entrance hall.
He mentally rehearsed the layout of the
castle gleaned from the blueprints. His path a deliberate weave through the
castle’s opulent halls. Passing through dimly lit passages, adorned with
tapestries depicting scenes of medieval valor. He remained alert keeping to the
major thoroughfares frequented by guests, where his presence would be
relatively unquestioned.
Soon, Victor arrived at an ornate tapestry
depicting a hunting scene of a wolf pack. One of the wolves in the scene stared
hauntingly at Victor, a slight green glint in its predatory eyes. Victor pulled
his eyes away from the tapestry. Pausing, he scanned the surroundings for any
signs of activity. Satisfied that he was alone, his gloved fingers moved to retrieve
the first repeater, checking its settings and ensuring it was ready for
deployment.
He began his task. He unpeeled the sticker
from the back and lifting the frame up gently, he stuck it to the canvas,
resting it on the frame.
He stepped back. “Prometheus?”
“The repeater is online and functioning
Victor. Well done.” Said the voice in his ear.
“Nice work Victor.” Blue intoned.
Victor looked up at the camera in the
hallway and waved.
“Prometheus?” he asked again.
“I’m glad to report Victor that your
activity is going undetected. The security staff’s facial expressions are
consistent with the facial expression of…boredom.” Prometheus reported.
“What about their AI system?” Victor
inquired.
“Eurus is not currently sending any alert
data to the security staff,” Prometheus said.
“Okay Victor, head to the other locations,”
Blue said over the earpiece.
He made his way to the second location. The
ornate vase stood silently in an alcove. It was a piece of undeniable beauty,
its porcelain skin etched with an intricate design; a black snake coiling
around the vase in an analemma. He crouched beside the vase. His gloved hands
gently unscrewed the lid, revealing a hollowed-out space within. He secured the
repeater inside, screwing the lid back on, with care.
He stepped back, his eyes scanning the
alcove once more. It appeared untouched, the vase blending seamlessly with the
opulent decor.
“The second repeater is in place, moving to
the third location.” Victor reported, his voice low.
“Confirmed. The repeater is online and
operational,” Prometheus responded.
“Okay Victor. It’s time to set the last
repeater. Do you remember where?”
“The ventilator shaft nearest the vault
door.” He answered.
“Okay good.” She said.
“Yes, I know, some people even consider me
above-average in my capacity to remember relevant information. Ah now. What do
those people call me? Oh yes! Professor!” Victor quipped.
“Haha, that’s hilarious, professor. Get
your above-average ass moving, okay! It’s almost time for the guests to be
conducted to the dinner area.”
“Did you just call me fat?”
“Victor!” she intoned.
“Okay okay I’m going; geez Mom!” said
Victor as he strode down a hallway. He wound through the mazelike corridors of
the castle. Reaching the corridor leading off from the main area to the
secluded parts of the castle, he said. “Prometheus?”
“You’re clear for now, Victor, but you must
move swiftly.” Said the voice over the earpiece.
Victor let out a deep breath and went down
the corridor. He turned a right, then a left, another right; he was making good
distance.
“Victor, we have a situation,” Prometheus
said.
“What is it?” he asked
“A guard is approaching,”
Victor swiveled and began to retreat
towards the turnoff of the previous corridor.
“Wait Victor,” Prometheus began, “while
retreating to the corner turn of the previous corridor would be an effective
standard strategy. In this case, retreating will place you in the sights of a
different guard on his patrol route.”
“So what do we do!?” Victor asked, his tone
panicky.
“Prometheus, is there a closet nearby he
can jump into, or an open door, or a bathroom?” Came Blue’s voice over the earpiece.
“Yes Blue, but calculating both their
strides, Victor will come to within ten seconds of the approaching guard’s turn,
into the corridor.”
“Victor, run!” Said Blue
Victor took off down the corridor. “Which
door is it?!” He asked as he bolted down the hallway. There was a clicking at
the very end of the corridor and a door swung open slightly. Victor deftly slid
inside and gently closed it behind him. It clicked again, and then silence.
The man was hard to miss. He was singing a
rock-’n-roll song off-key as he came around the corner. Victor heard his steps
as he walked past the janitor’s closet, leaning into the door so that he could
hear better. He heard the guard steps recede, his croaking voice fading until
finally, there was only silence. Victor let out the breath he had been holding.
The door clicked open, and he stepped out into the corridor.
He turned the corner and could see the
vault door straight ahead. Walking down the corridor, he finally saw it.
Getting down on one knee, he began unbolting the grille. When he had gotten all
four bolts, he gently pulled apart the grille and stuck the repeater to the
inside of the ventilator shaft. Replacing the grille, he screwed it in, and stood up.
“Blue, the last repeater is in place,”
Victor reported.
“Yes!” Blue celebrated under her breath.
“Okay, you still have to make it back though.”
“On my way,” Victor said and began his walk
back to the main area. Prometheus told him to speed up or slow down when
necessary, to avoid the guards on the route.
He made his way through the corridors until
he could finally hear the sounds of the party. He slowed down, now that he was
this close. His heart rate, calming down. He couldn’t believe he’d done it,
without getting caught. He had to remind himself that the mission wasn’t over.
Blue still had to make the same route that he did to the vault, to retrieve the
artifact. The night wasn’t over yet.
“Victor—” came Prometheus’ voice over the
earpiece, but it was too late. The door shut behind him and Victor swiveled to
look. It was a guard; his hair was tousled and his shirt untucked with a goofy
smile on his face. He looked up to see Victor standing there. His eyes widened,
and he began to break a sweat.
“Who are you?” he asked as he tucked in his
shirt.
Victor’s heart raced as he stood there
frozen; his breath caught in his throat. The guard’s eyes narrowed; suspicion
etched across his weathered face.
Victor’s mind raced. He needed an excuse—a
plausible reason for being here.
“I apologize,” Victor stammered, “I was
looking for the bathroom. This place is like a maze.”
The guard looked him up and down. “Weren’t
you guys briefed on the bathroom locations for the staff?” He inquired. “This
area is off-limits to guests and staff. What’s your name?”
Victor maintained his calm demeanor, trying
his best to respond smoothly. “Name’s John. I’m one of the waitstaff for
tonight’s event. Just got a bit turned around, that’s all. I didn’t mean to
cause any trouble.”
The guard scrutinized him for a moment, his
expression hard to read. “You have any identification on you, John?”
“Oh, here you go,” Victor said, handing him
his staff pass. “John Smith, huh?” The guard’s suspicion seemed to waver as he
sighed. “All right, just this once. The bathrooms are back towards the main
hall. Take a left after the portrait of the old lord.”
Victor nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I
appreciate the help. I’ll head there straight away.”
The guard waved him off, watching as Victor
made his way down the corridor. Victor forced himself to walk calmly, even as
he felt the guard’s eyes on his back. As he turned the corner and the guard’s
gaze finally left him, he let out a silent breath of relief.
“Nicely done Victor,” Blue said over the
earpiece.
“Indeed, your ability to remain calm under
pressure is admirable Victor.” Came Prometheus’ voice.
“Like I said, he’s a natural,” Blue added.
“Oh no, please, go on.” Victor joked.
“Get to the van and be ready to leave,”
Blue said, her smile audible.
But Victor could almost visualize Blue’s
focused expression as she continued. “Be cautious on your way out. Once you’re
outside, get to the west exit. It’s less guarded. The truck is parked just
beyond the tree line. I need you there to help monitor the feeds and be ready
for extraction.”
Victor nodded to himself, mentally mapping
out his route. “Aye aye captain!”
“Keep me posted until you get to the van.”
Blue’s voice softened slightly, a hint of concern creeping in. “Stay safe,
Victor.”
A faint smile tugged at Victor’s lips.
“I’ll see you soon, Ms. Blue.”
With their conversation concluded, Victor
steeled himself for the final leg of his journey. He slipped through the
castle’s corridors and found his way back to the kitchen, the activity still at
the fever pitch he had left it. Barely anybody noticed him as he slipped out
using the side door.
“Blue, I’m outside heading towards the west
exit now.” He said over the earpiece.
“Where is the new guy?! Get him here! Now!”
The chef screamed from the kitchen. Victor looked back at the kitchen through
the side door window, eyes raised, and headed off towards the western gate,
throwing his staff identification badge into the bin.
Outside, the night air was cool and crisp.
His footsteps were light, his movements fluid as he navigated the garden paths
toward the west exit. The sounds of the dinner party grew fainter with each
step, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the distant call of night birds.
As he neared the exit, Victor’s senses were on high alert. He peered around
corners, ensuring no guards were in his immediate vicinity. The west exit, as
Blue had mentioned, was less guarded, and he slipped through the gate without incident.
He pressed on along the tarmac sidewalk,
the light of the gibbous moon piercing the inky blackness casting a dull glow
on his path. The copse of trees opposite the castle, rustled in the night
breeze, their branches clawing at the night sky, their leaves shimmering in the
pale moonlight.
Finally, he spotted the truck, its dark
silhouette barely visible in the shrouding darkness. He approached it from the
back cautiously. “Prometheus.” He said, and the door unlocked with a soft
click. Victor quickly climbed into the back of the truck, closing the door
quietly behind him. The interior was dimly lit, the soft glow of the monitors
casting an eerie light on the equipment and gear, neatly arranged inside. He
took a moment to steady his breath, the adrenaline from his recent close call
still coursing through his veins.
He shrugged off the waiter’s vest, its
fabric still warm from his body heat, and folded it neatly before setting it
aside. His fingers moved quickly to pull off the bow tie and unbutton his crisp
white shirt, revealing a dark, form-fitting undershirt designed for ease of
movement.
Reaching into a compartment under the
bench, Victor pulled out a pair of black cargo pants and a lightweight hooded
jacket. Kicking off the polished dress shoes, he pulled down his silk trousers
and took them off, replacing them with the cargo pants. He got into the jacket
and pulled the hoodie over his head, the comfortable fabric a relief from the
shirt and bow tie. Taking out some runners slid into them before finally
settling into the seat.
He activated the array of screens and
monitors inside the truck. The feeds from the repeaters came to life, providing
him with a comprehensive view of the castle’s interior and exterior.
Prometheus’ data streams flowing seamlessly. He picked up the headphones to put
them on. So far, everything was going according to plan.