Hostile Take Over
By Grayson Queen
Copyright 2013 Grayson Queen. Editing and cover provided by Queen Creative.
There are ninja assassins roaming the halls. I swear it. A moment ago, I caught a little Asian guy looking at me. I’ve never seen him before.
I’m watching him watch me, even though I haven’t seen him actually watching me. He’s too good for that. He’s a ninja.
I close the door to my office and draw the blinds.
How does one avoid throwing stars or poisoning?
I should google it.
I should start preparing my own food.
The phone beeps.
“Mister Blake, I have a call for you on Line One, it’s Michaels from accounting.”
I hit the button to reply, “Thanks Delores, I’ll take it.”
Line One.
“Michaels?”
“Blake?”
Silence.
“You alone?” I ask.
“Yeah… You?”
“Tony is here,” I say.
Silence.
Tony is a large, gun-toting man in black, which combines into a scary son-of-a-bitch. He stands in the corner all day-- invisibly forgettable-- even for me, and I know he’s there. Most people who come in don’t even notice him, or pretend not to. Who wants to catch those murderous eyes looking at you?
He’s big. I mean, really big. Six-foot-five and over two hundred pounds of muscle that make his twin .45 caliber pistols look like pellet guns. I’m not even sure his fingers could fit in the trigger. All that makes no difference. The guns are for show. It’s his ability to crush men’s skulls in a single blow that I like. And that he’s on my side, thank God.
Right now he’s standing in the corner of my office somehow sinking into the shadows that don’t exist.
“That’s fine,” Michaels says, “I’m sure he’ll want to know this.”
“I’m putting you on speaker,” I say, switching him over and locking the door.
“I’ve got some good news and some bad news. It seems Anderson has gotten his hooks into the accounting department and pretty much everyone down here is in his corner.”
I look to Tony who doesn’t show any indication of his thoughts.
“What’s the good news?” I ask.
“The board is on your side, but they can’t offer any overt support. They are however trying to come up with a solution. It sounds like if you make it through this, you’re set as CEO. But if not…”
“Then I’m dead and nothing matters after that,” I say.
Silence.
“Blake, you still there?”
“Yeah.”
“I think they might be onto me down here. Is there any way you could send Tony over?”
“There was a ninja here earlier. A ninja, Michaels! They have swords and secret stealth attacks. Do you know what that means?”
“No,” Michaels says.
“If you want Tony, you’ll have to write up a requisition form, have it signed by all the department heads and I’ll look over it for next year’s budget.”
I hang up and look at Tony.
“So? I’m heartless, but this is my life we’re talking about.”
Tony says nothing, does nothing.
I look out the windows into the city. It would look pretty if I were looking for beauty. I would feel big if I were looking down. I’m scanning the rooftops for a sniper wondering if Delores had my windows replaced with bulletproof glass.
I hit the intercom button.
“Delores…”
Nothing.
“Delores?”
Nothing.
I whisper, “Delores, if you’re in trouble hit any button on the phone.”
Nothing.
This is bad. This is very bad.
“Cover me, Tony,” I say. I barrel out of my office-- dive, roll and recover into a crouched position. The little pistol I keep strapped to my ankle is in my hand.
Everything in reception stops-- typing, talking, moving and thinking. There’s no sign of Delores.
“Delores!” I stand scanning the room with the muzzle of my gun. I spot the little Asian man. “You!” I yell. He turns to look behind him in the hope that I’m talking to someone else. The sneaky bastard is playing innocent while waiting for the right moment to strike. “You,” I say again, and now it’s perfectly obvious I’m talking to him. All eyes are watching our confrontation.
I’m prepared; I have the draw on him. There’s no katana sword, throwing star, dragon mist, disappearing shadows of disguising ninja trick he can pull that I can’t shoot down.
“Tony, grab him,” I say.
I have the ninja in my cross hairs.
“Tony.”
The safety is off.
“Tony?”
Have to keep my eye on this guy.
“Tony!”
Is not coming.
I’ll have to go at this alone.
“Where‘s Delores?” I’m staring the ninja in the eyes, and he makes as if he’s confused. “What did you do with her?” The gun is pressed against his forehead.
“Please don’t,” he says, accented and sprinkled with fear. Fake fear, faux fear. He thinks he’s duping me.
“You don’t think I know who you are? I know. I know.”
“Erik Blake!”
Delores is standing behind me holding her lunch.
“Delores,” I say, “where were you? I intercommed you and you didn’t respond. I thought…”
“You thought you’d threaten the copy machine repair man?” She interrupts.
I eye the little Asian man, and then the gun in my hand. He may know how to fix a copy machine, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a ninja.
But maybe she has a point. I have to keep on my toes. The assassin could be anyone.
I back away, keeping my eyes on everyone.
Anyone.
Everyone.
All of them.
Suspicion until proven innocent.
“In my office, I need to talk to you,” I say.
Grabbing Delores by the arm, I shove her through the door and lock it behind me.
“Mister Blake,” Delores says, “I understand the fundamental workings of the corporate world, but I don’t think I can work like this.”
“I don’t have time to talk about it right now. Grab something and put it in front of the door. Pile it as high as you can. And as for you,” I point to Tony, “I’ll deal with you later and I assure you that your position as a so-called bodyguard will be reviewed.”
There should be enough food in the mini-fridge to last me till tonight when I can sneak out of here under the cover of darkness. I have to consider the possibility that everyone has sided with Anderson, and I’m as good as dead.
“Why are you just standing there!” I shout at Delores. “Anderson is bucking for a promotion, and he wants me out of the way. Me! Erik Blake, V.P., and he’ll get it over my dead body. So, why are you standing there with that stupid look on your face? Move the couch while I think of something.”
Delores leaves.
Trapped, the door is barred. Or safe, the door is secured. I haven’t decided which yet. I guess it all depends on what I do next. If I’m waiting for them to strike, then I’ve backed myself into a corner. If I’m plotting my victory, then I’ve bought myself time.
All this thinking makes my head hurt.
“Has anyone ever told you you’d make a good statue?” I say to Tony who keeps still. “Are you even alive?” I look for something heavy, and throw it at him.
Everything is stacked against the door, and I’m sitting on the floor with the lights off. It’s dark, but not that dark, I should have
hit him.
“Tony?”
He’s too hidden to see in these shadows and too quiet for his own good. I pick up something sharp this time. It whooshes through the air.
“Tony, say something before I shoot you.” I pull the gun out and click off the safety. He’s going to make me get up and hit him in the head. Bastard.
Even though I know nothing is between him and me, I walk as if there were, searching with my hands and feet to make sure I don’t trip. When I get there, to his corner, he’s missing.
Think.
Think.
When was the last time I saw him?
Running through the last several hours, I can’t remember. I can’t remember so much that I doubt he was in the room after I blocked the door. Who would know where Tony was?
I’ll call Michaels.
Where the hell is the phone?
I scramble in the dark, losing the gun along the way, but finding the phone on a stack of papers.
“Michaels, this Blake. Is Tony down there with you? I hired him as my bodyguard and if he’s down there…”
“Blake, you sound panicked. Why would you have a bodyguard? There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Michaels?”
“There’s no Michaels here.”
That wasn’t Michaels. I must have dialed wrong.
I try Michaels’ extension again.
“We’re sorry but the extension you dialed is not valid. Please try again or hang up,” the phone mocks me.
“Damn you!” I yell.
“Erik?” There’s a knock at the door, muffled through the barricade.
I say nothing. It’s dark enough, and if I’m quiet enough, maybe I’ll cease to exist.
“Erik, it's Delores, I’m worried about you.”
“How do I know you’re Delores?” I ask. “How do I know you exist? I’m not even sure Tony exists. He’s gone like my imagination is going. Wild! Free!”
“Erik, I think you need to come out,” Delores or her imaginary imposter says.
“Yeah, come out. So, what? They can kill me?”
“Who is trying to kill you?”
“I don’t know,” I yell, “You think if I knew I’d be hiding in here? No! I’d be out there killing them.”
“How about you let me in and we can come up with a plan?” My imaginary secretary asks.
“Doesn’t seem like a good idea. What does that mean about me if I start letting my imaginary friends into my office to help me plot?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Erik,” the voice says, “I think you’re under a lot of stress.”
“Oh, is that what you think?” I ask sarcastically. “For being my subconscious you have lousy insight.”
“Erik, I’m going to go get help, but I’ll be back, and everything will be okay.”
Excellent.
Excellent.
It’s nice to know that your alternate personalities are batting in your corner.
I like that Delores gal, although it’s too bad she’s all in my head.
I think I get it now, though. I’m that guy.
That guy who snaps one day at work and shoots everyone in the office. Except I haven’t shot anyone yet. Which means I’m a step ahead, right?
I know what I am.
So, all I have to do is not shoot people.
I have to get rid of the gun.
Breathe. Think.
I need to find the gun so I can hide it from myself.
I’m on all fours, scouring the room when another muffled knock and voice comes from the door.
“Mister Blake, this is Ted with Security,” says Ted, with security and strength in his voice.
“I’m here, too,” says the voice of Delores.
“I have orders to escort you from the building,” Ted says.
“That’s nice, Ted,” I say. “If you give me a moment to find my gun I’ll be right with you.”
“There’s no need for that,” Ted says. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“Tell that to Michaels,” I say. “He’s gone, I must have killed him off in my head. Weak little man that Michaels character was, but that doesn’t explain what happened to Tony.”
“What are you talking about?” Delores asks.
“Where is Tony? Tell me that.”
“He’s around,” a voice says from inside the room.
“Good, then let him know I’m not paying him overtime,” I say.
“What was that, Mister Blake?” Ted asks.
“I’m not paying Tony overtime, I said,” I say.
“Don’t worry, he won’t be collecting,” the voice says from inside the room. “I’ve brought you a message from Mister Anderson.”
“Why didn’t he just didn’t email me?”
“As time passes, youth overcomes age, and it is the duty of aged to bow down to the power of youth. The time has come to bow your head.”
There’s a sound of a blade being drawn; a sword, long and sharp.
“Oh,” I say.
“If you will, Mister Blake, bow your head so that I can make this a clean cut.”
“Okay, just tell me one thing. Did you fix the copy machine?”
###
About the author:
Grayson Queen is a full-time novelist and painter located out of Orange County, California. His artistic passions range from deeply philosophical to unusual science fiction and fantasy.
In his free time, Grayson dabbles with music, sculpture, and various explorations of geek culture. He is happily married to a dinosaur, and is happily owned by two amazing cats.
Novels:
Orange Buffalo
Short Stories:
3676
A Pirate's Life for Me
Coinage
Dehydration
Fix It
Hostile Takeover
The Telltale Toilet
Graphic Stories:
Dead Happy
The Eater
Children's Books:
The Angry Dragon
The Lonely Robot
Check for other upcoming books in print or follow at:
https://www.graysonqueen.com