A Step to Nowhere (27 page)
“She doesn’t talk to anyone. If she honors someone with as much as a glance, it’s so bigoted, like there is an empty space before her, not a person. A slave maybe. Her shoulders are always straight, her chin up. All you need to do is stay silent.”
“That’s all I hear lately. Be quiet Sam. And the more I’m required to be quiet the more I talk. Okay, I’m quiet.”
“By the door, there’s a machine for reading your fingerprints,” Ray continued as if I hadn’t said anything. “It’s easy. You just press your thumb to the metal plate and that’s it.”
Ray talked and I looked out the car window, at the gray buildings. At people. I saw no one overweight, or smiling, or talking. A planet of skinny, sad, quiet people. I had gained control over my body by this time and didn’t shake, but I was too stressed out and my stomach started to hurt.
Ray was driving with confidence, checking for the car behind where Dan and Steve were sitting. Ronald didn’t return, but we expected him to come later to the Lottery Building with some of his guys. Everyone hoped there would be no need for their help, because if they were needed, some people could die.
We arrived at the building with mirrored, turquoise walls, melding with the sky. I saw clouds reflecting in the glass. There was a sign “National Lottery” over the door that I could see from the distance and a fountain in the courtyard. Did they like fountains or what? It was huge, like a pool, and one could swim there on a hot day. I doubted though that anyone would risk even wetting a hand there. The road to the entrance was blocked by iron gates with something attached to them in the middle that looked like a camera, right in your face. Why did they require fingerprints after that? Wasn’t it overprotection? Actually, overprotection didn’t exist on this planet. Enemies of the government had been all around and they didn’t sleep. They just waited for a chance to kill Bristow. That could be the truth.
We stopped for a few seconds in front of the gates and a red light from the camera scanned us before we could drive inside. When we slid between the opening gates, I checked the rear window and saw Steve glancing in our direction before passing by in his car.
Ray took my hand and squeezed it. Yeah, that helped me a lot to suppress my fear. What was he thinking?
“You’re doing everything right,” he said as he skirted the fountain and stopped in the parking lot.
“I haven’t done anything yet.” I stared at his hand wrapped around mine.
“I didn’t say thank you for this.” He looked at me.
“Say it after everything is over. Trust me; I won’t get off you until …”
Ray coughed and I felt my face turning red once again, understanding the double meaning of the phrase.
“I don’t mean that, I mean …”
“I understand.”
Ray let my hand go, straightened up the car at the special spot, far from other cars. In front of us was a metal sign, black on white—Ray Bancroft. Samantha Bancroft. Nice.
“Are you ready?”
“Let’s go.” I groped for the handle and opened the door.
“Stop!” Ray grabbed my wrist. “Samantha has never opened the door herself. Then he bent to me quickly and kissed my cheek. “I always do that and somebody could be watching us.” Bastard.
He opened the door for me and offered me his hand to help me leave the car gracefully. My legs though had gotten used to gym shoes rather than heels and one of them twisted before I took even one step.
“Appear as though nothing happened,” Ray whispered. “Touch your hair and raise your chin.”
“I know,” I snarled. Then I smoothed my hair and did lift my chin. “Let’s go. I don’t see a reason to delay.” My voice sounded arrogant and Ray smiled with satisfaction. I guess I was a good actress.
We walked over the red brick road to the building and up the marble stairs. Between two high and heavy doors made of some kind of glowing material was a box the size of a small chocolate bar and Ray touched it with his thumb. One of the doors buzzed, moved to the side and moved back right after Ray entered. Two people couldn’t get inside at the same time.
I sighed and pressed my thumb to the cold, metal plate. Our prints concurred. The door opened. The show was on and there was no way back.
I entered a cool, open lobby, where Ray was waiting for me. Marble floors, light brown walls the same color as the endless ceiling, semicircular chandeliers radiating white light. A few chairs by the entrance, a machine selling bottled water or whatever they drink on this planet. If someone thought they had passed security by this point, he would be wrong. About a hundred feet away was an arch like those in an airport on my planet; to the left and right of it were standing two guards in green uniforms. Ray said I didn’t have to present them with any kind of identification so, keeping my chin up and not looking at the guards, I marched after my husband. I said husband, and he was at the moment. At the moment, I was Samantha Bancroft with her husband Ray.
We came to some elevators with transparent doors that looked like the ones in the Corporation. When the cabin arrived, a tall woman in a navy uniform and glasses entered with us. I noticed her servile glance in my direction and heard a barely audible greeting. I wanted to answer, but Ray probably noticed my intention and squeezed my hand.
Chin up and no talking.
The woman left the elevator on the seventeenth floor and we moved higher. Floor fifty – Samantha’s office. My office. Before my eyes flashed floors, doors, long hallways, and people in uniforms. The elevator moved fast, but I still noticed the black devices that some people were holding. I didn’t see people together. I didn’t see anyone talking by a coffee machine. Well, they didn’t have coffee, but that wasn’t a reason. I clasped and unclasped my fists, trying to breathe evenly.
“You’re so pale,” Ray said as he took my hand again. “We still can go back.”
“You stop it, right now!” I snapped.
Stop it before I follow your advice,
I thought.
The elevator froze on the forty-ninth floor and I heard a clicking sound. I looked at Ray questioningly.
“Only you or your father can get to the last floor,” he said as he searched in his pocket. “The rest can get up there only at your invitation.
Fortunately, I have access. Samantha trusts me.”
“She’s naïve,” I smirked.
Ray didn’t answer. He pulled a key that looked like a stick out of his pocket, plunged it into a hole on the panel, and the elevator moved up one more story, opening the door for us after stopping.
“No way back from this point,” Ray said as he stepped into the opening before him.
White walls with white doors and not a single soul. The air was fresh and cool as a winter morning. I shivered.
“Where?” I couldn’t hide the nervousness in my voice, but fortunately Ray didn’t comment on it.
“Straight ahead.”
The hallway was divided in two and one of the branches went left. We moved in the direction Ray pointed. Straight.
“On your planet, you call it the penthouse,” he said. “It’s just a small box compared to the rest of the building and consists of only two offices. The rest of the free space outside contains a landing for Bristow’s helicopter.
“Convenient.”
We stopped at the end of the hallway with the same type of metal plate that was before the main entrance of the building.
“What do they keep here with a security system like this?” I said, pressing my thumb to the plate. “Like the Pentagon.”
“You haven’t been in Bristow’s house. This is nothing.”
“What do they have there?” I couldn’t wait.
“We are going to find out.”
Ray and I watched the door gliding upward.
“Have you been here?” I asked.
“Never without her and you can understand why.”
“You should have cut her thumb.”
Ray didn’t say anything and didn’t even smile. We waited for the door to go all the way up before entering the room with white walls, red and black furniture, and a panoramic view of the city. Instead of looking for something we could use, I went to the window, gazing at the metal and glass landscape. I had never been so high, excluding planes, but didn’t feel discomfort. High-rises seemed to be covered with a blue haze and I saw only their rooftops. The clouds were so close I could touch them. A helicopter scared me and I was about to hide from my copy’s father, but it flew away.
The noise behind my back made me turn around. Ray was already checking the contents of the heavy wooden cabinet with drawers.
“Not a good time to enjoy the surroundings.”
“It’s all right,” Ray said, while continuing his search, taking out plastic boxes, opening them, plucking out tiny plates, and turning them up to the ceiling. I looked there and saw letters as if they were coming out of a projector. The letters were black, but I couldn’t read them from my position and Ray changed them rapidly. “Check the desk when you’re ready.”
I was ready and went to the desk that was made of some kind of black wood with thick board. There was a chair covered with red leather and I sat down. Comfortable and soft.
The contours of the back exactly followed the line of my spine. There was a computer on the table, a remote with more than a dozen keys, and an electronic picture frame. The photos changed every five seconds. Samantha was on most of them alone. She changed outfits, hats, shoes; posing on different couches, near sculptures, water, fountains, and buildings. Some of the sights could belong to my planet, but she didn’t say she’d visited us. In two or three pictures, she posed with her father or her husband. I couldn’t say I wasn’t jealous of her, in spite of the absurdity of the feeling in this situation. They looked happy. The last picture was the wedding of my copy to the copy of my “might-have-been” lover. They looked in the eyes of each other, held each other’s hands. They were in love. Frigging doves.
“How are you doing?” Ray asked.
I startled and moved my eyes away from the picture frame.
“Looking.”
I bent to the metal box under the table without getting out of the chair and saw a metal plate on the top of it. I pressed my thumb and the top popped up. I stared at two boxes that looked like the ones Ray had found and picked up one of them.
“I found something.”
I straightened up when Ray walked to the desk. Moving the computer to himself, he turned it on by pressing on the side. This computer looked exactly like ours. When the screen showed a sign “National Lottery”, he slid a memory stick, or something that looked like one, into the slot on the front of the panel. Music played for about ten seconds and then a white stripe with the word
password
appeared.
“Do you know the password?” I asked, trying to ignore Ray’s cheek almost touching mine when he bowed to the monitor. He pressed on the corner of the computer and a keyboard popped up.
“Samantha. Bristow. Bancroft,” Ray said, running his fingers over the letters. “My wife loves herself. Yes, her password is her name. Let’s see what we got.”
“Sit down.” I left the chair.
“It’s okay, I’m fine.”
“Sit, I’m telling you.” I pushed Ray on the shoulder and he settled in the chair. I stood near him, but not too close.
“It’s bank documents,” my copy’s husband said, glancing at the first page. He touched the screen, going through the pages. I saw names, numbers, but didn’t understand what they meant. “Great!” Ray exclaimed.
“What? What’s there?”
“I can’t believe we found it! I knew they registered the transferred funds, but didn’t know where they kept the information. Bristow prefers his vice’s office. It could be copies, but who cares?”
“Does your wife keep this information secret from you?”
Ray looked at me; smiled.
“I think she suspects that I don’t agree with her completely. Maybe she’s afraid I’d know how much money she has.”
“She doesn’t trust you,” I said.
“You might be correct. She’s smart. I can’t fool her intuition.”
“So, what’s here exactly?”
“All transfers from the lottery account to Samantha’s. Bristow organized a captious system. Every winner receives a special account in Bristow’s bank; under the winner’s name. Any winner can withdraw their money from the lottery—or Bristow’s bank. No way around it. He has access everywhere. When a winner leaves for a trip,” Ray sighed, “and doesn’t come back, the money stays in the lottery account. No one takes into consideration the lottery account is in Bristow’s personal bank and he can do whatever he wants with it. He moves money from the winner’s account to his. That’s it.”
“I see. Then Bristow and his daughter deal with it as they will.”
“Yes.” Ray flipped some pages then pulled a memory stick from his pocket. “I’ll copy it.”
“What about the winners’ families?”
Again, Ray looked at me with a smile. A sad smile it was.
“You haven’t been in our world very long.” He thrust the memory stick into the other side of the computer and pressed a few keys on the keyboard. “Relatives of winners either go to onis for some government crime, or they are told that their dear husband, son, daughter broke the law and wouldn’t return to their home dimension. Because of that, their winnings can’t be paid and must stay in the lottery fund.”
“Everything’s taken care of.”
“Bristow considered all scenarios. The jackpot is not hit very often and some of the winners still survive through their luck. Those who didn’t want to travel because of family or health issues, or other problems. Any person who won a second prize, a few millions without a trip attached, cannot get the whole amount right away.” Ray waited while the green stripe disappeared from the screen and pulled out the sticks. One went to his pocket, the other back into the box. “In this case a winner can withdraw his money over a thirty year period. Another option is to accept only fifty percent of the winnings. He stole the rules from your planet. The rest of the money stays in the bank.”
“Bristow’s account.”
“Exactly. I don’t know anyone who refused to take fifty percent instead of the whole amount
spread over thirty years.”
“The life span is not so long on this planet,” I said.
“That’s unfortunate truth. That’s how Bristow bought the government. Thirty percent of all collected money goes to the government fund.”
“He can afford it.”
“He sure can. He has private planes, helicopters, boats, five houses in different corridors, and a President nipper.”
Ray stood up and went back to the cabinet where he’d searched before.
“It’s not enough. We need something else.”
I sat on the floor under the table, took a small box out of the big metal box, and turned memory sticks to the ceiling, one after another. I found one called
Controller.
“Ray.”
“Yes.” He turned to me.
“You were talking about the controller?”
Ray dashed to me, flopped on the floor, and started to check the cards.
“They were saving the reports all this time.”
He gripped one of the cards and moved to the computer. I approached as Ray was already entering the password.
“I hope this is what I think it is,” he muttered as the file opened. “Sam. It’s even more than I’d hoped for.”
“Poland, Robert,” I read. “Won jackpot on Fourteenth of October, 2007. He accepted the travel plan on Fifteenth of October. Liquidated on Twenty first of October. All actions went according to the standards.”