Montezuma’s Revenge

After this communication the man was silent, nor did he move on but instead stood rocklike at Tony’s shoulder, staring straight ahead, dark-suited and thick-booted. When Tony rose and paid his bill the man was close behind him and even Sophie was silent for a change, perhaps aware of something happening, not questioning him when he went to the elevator instead of the office.

Room 2135, unmarked and apparently no different from the others along the corridor, was locked when he tried the handle, although it unlocked swiftly enough when the messenger leaned over his shoulder and rapped a swift coded signal on the wood. Tony stepped through and felt the silent closing of the door behind him and was alone, facing the man who sat behind the expanse of polished government steel desk, the top of which was unmarred and empty save for a single yellow wooden pencil. As though even this were too much clutter the man seized it up and tapped it against his teeth as he waved Tony to the chair opposite him.

“You are Antonio Hawkin, aren’t you?” Tap, tap, tap of yellow wood on white teeth in punctuation. Tony nodded. Almost too white, probably artificial, like the overly sincere smile that framed them. A hairline mustache above, the kind race track touts used to wear thirty years ago, a thin nose with a very prying look to it like a fleshy crowbar, eyes lurking unseen behind heavily tinted frameless pince-nez glasses, white skin even whiter than the plastic teeth, a high forehead so high in fact that it rode up over the top of his skull and slipped down the back of his neck while across the summit of this interesting area of bare skin a few long hairs had been stretched and glued into place. “My name is Ross Sones,” tap, tap, tap. “Would you mind showing me your ID card?”

“Would you mind telling me why, and what this is all about?”

“In a moment, Tony, let us just get the routine out of the way first. Why, thanks. Not a very good likeness, but they never are, are they, no indeed. Now you wouldn’t mind inking your thumb on this pad and pressing it down on this piece of paper. Checks fine against the one on the card, wasn’t that easy? Here you can wipe your thumb on the back of the same piece of paper, no waste, save our forests.”

“The reason ...”

“Just a moment.” He looked at his watch. “We have just nine minutes left so let us get the details out of the way first.”

He slipped the pencil behind one ear and took a bulky file from a desk drawer and leafed through it. “Here we go ... I had it a minute ago, right. Your security rating. I see you have been cleared for confidential material, very good, been issued texts on a unit called the Mark IX-37G. But, my goodness, there is no record here of the texts ever being returned.” He looked steadily at Tony and was no longer smiling.

“No one ever asked for them back, they were given to me in tech school, in the Army.”

“This is quite a serious matter, I am sure.”

“Serious! The Mark IX radar has been outdated for ten years now. You can buy them at the war surplus stores if you happen to want an old radar set weighing a thousand pounds. So of what importance are the textbooks?”

Sones considered this in silence for a moment, tapping his teeth again, then making a check mark in the dossier with the pencil.

“I will have to look into this, keep the record open on this point. But still you do have a security rating and that is what counts. I am sure that with the data here we can have it upgraded and updated.”

The file of papers was an inch thick. “Is that all about me?” Tony asked.

“Of course. Classified, so I’m afraid you can’t look at it. But thorough, very thorough. Well, everything seems to be clarified. We have, ahh, three more minutes so if there are any questions ... ?”

“The same one. What is this all about?”

“Classified information, I’m afraid.” Tap, tap. “But they will tell you downstairs, and we had better get going.”

With precise movements Sones slipped the dossier into a brief case he produced from the desk, locked it, then snapped the handcuff about his wrist that was attached to it by a chain. Only after this had been safely secured and tested did he touch the button that unlocked the door. They went side by side down the corridor and past the bank of elevators to an unmarked door that Sones unlocked, which opened unexpectedly into a small lobby no bigger than a closet. The far wall was made of gray steel and labeled in bold red letters security elevator—do not use without proper clearance. Sones appeared to have the proper clearance for at the turn of another key the wall slid back to reveal the elevator itself, and once inside he pressed the bottom button in the row, all of them labeled with cryptic code groups. Security was obviously very good and Tony was very impressed, although he still wondered what it was all about. The elevator dropped and when the door next opened a hard-eyed man stood before them pointing a large and menacing automatic pistol at their chests.