Ratio(4)

“Okay, okay, I get the picture,” said Rick, taking a deep breath. “Just make sure you clean up after, okay?”

“You got it.” Trevor paused. “Boss.”

Rick smiled. “I get off in a few hours. If you’re not done by then, I’ll sign you out myself. We don’t want too many questions, right? Not if you gotta keep this under wraps.” He held a finger up to his lips. “Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Good man.” Trevor held out his hand. “You got that card?”

Rick handed the white plastic pass over. Trevor climbed the steps once more and hoisted himself into the tight space, lugging his rucksack up behind him. He looked back down at Rick, looking up at him.

“You need help up there?”

“I’m golden.” Trevor grinned. “You can take the ladder with you.”

“How are you gonna lock the trap door when you’re done?”

“I got something I can use for that before I drop down to the floor.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going home soon, so be sure to leave that key card on my desk when you go, okay?”

“No problem.” He pictured the replica he had slipped onto Rick’s desk. “I can guarantee you’ll have it back. Scout’s honor.”

Trevor listened as Rick took the ladder into the elevator and left the floor. He waited another moment before closing and locking the trap door from above. Satisfied nobody was watching, he flicked on two flashlights, one for his hand, the other he wore as a headlight. Stowing the baseball cap away, he remained in one spot while he swept the area with a light. Everything in the space was utilitarian, the tops of ventilation exhaust ducts, fresh water pipes, standpipes for fire sprinklers, and electrical cables. Otherwise, there was only a thin layer of dust that hadn’t been disturbed in a while.

He unfolded one styrofoam panel after another, dropping them to the floor, making a bridge of sorts from the access point to one side wall. He knew that if he walked over the dust, he’d leave footprints behind, something he couldn’t risk. By walking over the panels, then taking them up after he passed over, he could get set up at one end without detection.

Leaving the panels in place, he pulled off his rucksack and set it in the far corner. Next, he set the bag of cat litter in another corner and tore it open. From his bag, he fetched a large plastic jug, leaving it next to the litter, effectively making a latrine to use for the next three days. Finally, he took up the styrofoam panels and folded them out to full size, positioning them around his hiding place, shielding it from view.

Perfect fit.

Trevor looked around his home for the next three days and smiled. It wasn’t much, but it would do. After all, with someone like Rick running the show, it would be easy enough to turn presidential candidate Jack Melendez into a corpse without much trouble.

All he had to do was wait.





Chapter 2





“WHAT THE HELL happened?”

Leopold Blake sat in Oliver Merrill’s plush office, staring out at the view over Manhattan’s Upper East Side, and took a deep breath. His company accountant, one of the senior partners at Silverman & Stone, stood behind his desk, waving a thick ledger in the air, waiting for an answer. A pair of reading spectacles hung on the end of his nose, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Well?”

Leopold leaned back in his chair, feeling the soft leather folding to the contours of his body. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and looked up. “You tell me, Merrill,” he said. “That’s what I’m paying you for.”

“Your company is paying the firm to audit your accounts and prepare the annual reports,” Merrill said. “And that means you need to be a little more upfront with me. So, I’ll ask again,” he lay down the papers and leaned across the desk, “what the hell happened?”

“Run me through the numbers again.”

The accountant sighed and sat down. “Operating profit for the year was one-point-four billion before taxes,” he said, consulting his computer screen. “Total turnover close to fifteen billion.”

“Sounds pretty solid to me.”

“Down four percent on last year, but still a good story to tell the shareholders.”

“So what’s the issue?”

Merrill took off his glasses and shot Leopold a look. “You know what I’m getting at. R&D budget for last year was four hundred million. Projections for next year put it at less than half that. You normally see a decent return from the research division, so why the cuts?”

“You read about Chemworks in the papers, right?” Leopold said.