hear. They're in the next storage room, a few feet away.
"Well, what'ya think?" says one voice.
"You think this window will work?"
"Yeah, perfect angle. Pity we can't just blow Munson's head off from here."
"And then launch a few grenades into the crowd? That would be quite a show."
"Not this time. I guess they have their reasons."
A cell phone chirps.
"Who is it?"
"The chief."
"Yes sir, we're checking out the dorm right now. Yes sir, good angle on where the podium will be and a lot of trees to keep the window hidden from the audience and TV cameras. Yes sir, no sir, not yet. Shouldn't be a problem. Thank you sir."
Jim hears an electronic click as the call ends.
"He wanted to know if everything looks ok."
"Lets get this camera installed and then get back to the security trailer."
Jim lays there very, very still, wide eyed and barely breathing, terrified they may find him. He listens carefully while they talk and install a tiny web cam in the window looking down on the front of Bander Hall. They are definitely part of the security detail and they are not alone. Others are involved but how many? Who are they?
A few minutes later, as he hears their footsteps retracing the way back to the end of the attic and down to the staircase, Jim sits up. Slowly he creeps silently out of his room and peeks down the length of the attic area to be sure the coast is clear. Then, as quietly as possible, in case their camera has a microphone, he tip-toes to the wall separating his room from the room where the camera was installed.
Peeking through a small hole in the wallboard, he sees the tiny device facing out the window. A green LED light indicates that it's active. Behind it is a small network wireless transmitter connected by a long cord to an outlet at the other end of the room.
Jim, still on tip-toe, slips into the room and carefully makes his way to the camera, staying in the shadows so as to prevent his reflection in the window from being seen by the spy cam.
He examines the camera and recognizes that it's just a cheap, generic WiFi security cam with microphone. No easy way to trace its origin.
Time: 9:30 AM
Waiting outside the dorm at the east entrance, beyond the field of view of the web cam high above, he spots Ryan and Phil walking up the hill and waves to them.
"Where's Ben?" asks Jim as they near.
"He wasn't feeling too well."
"You mean he passed out."
"Yeah, and we kinda buried him in a pile of empties. He should be coming around pretty soon. Should be noisy"
"What, no pictures?"
"Oh we got a lot before we left and my laptop camera will capture his return to earth. Should make a nice video post. Real embarrassing. Now, whata 'ya want us to do?"
"Ryan, you watch the stairwell and door, Phil, you watch the corridor, I'll go get my stuff. I'll text you when I'm ready. Let me know if the coast is clear."
"Will do," they reply as Jim and Phil slip into the dorm. Ryan lingers in the stairwell. Phil and Jim scamper up to the top floor.
Just as Jim predicted, the maids are on break and the corridors are deserted. Phil takes his position at one end of the hall as Jim runs back up to the attic.
Checking one more time that there is nothing anyone would notice, Jim slips on his back pack, grabs the four bulging trash bags and bounds down the creaky old attic staircase. At the hall door, he texts his lookouts who reply that he's in the clear.
Dashing the length of the hall, down the east staircase and out the side door, he dumps the bags into the shopping cart and steers off towards East Gym, just out of sight of the campus security cameras. Ryan and Phil tag along on either side.
At the rear of East Gym, concealed by trees and overgrown bushes, Jim pulls out his famous chain of keys. Flipping through them he selects and proudly displays one prominently embossed Do Not Reproduce -State Property. He uses it to quickly open the old, disused, secluded, windowless entrance. Three guys and four bulging trash bags quickly disappear within, while the shopping cart is sent careening down the concrete path towards a cluster of solar powered trash cans in the distance. The old door squeaks shut behind them. The lock is bolted from within.
In the dark, musty, old vestibule, at the base of a dingy staircase, dim light filters in from above. Suspended dust floats in a beam of light from an unseen window on a landing several floors above.
"Geez," says Ryan. "What is this?"
"It's the old access stairs to the rafters and roof. I found out about it when I was installing the building wireless routers. Come'on, I'll show you," as he starts up the stairs, two at a time.
The others quickly follow.
They reach the fourth floor breathless, pausing while Jim pulls out another key that opens an old wooden door to a darkly lit, musty cavernous interior.
Beams, two foot wide, slant above, supporting the roof. The rough wood floor ends at a railing that forms a rectangle all around the attic. In the center they see the basketball court far below.
Suspended across the open area are metal scaffolds from which hang lighting arrays, speakers and a large four sided electronic score board.
"This area is above the press old box," says Jim pointing as he and the others peer over the edge.
"You can see the wireless routers I installed hanging from the scaffolds," as he gestures at several small boxes with blinking lights and tiny aerials at regular intervals around the building.
"So this is your new home? Where's the bed?" asks Phil.
"On the second floor mezzanine," says Jim.
"What?"
"There's the old physical therapy clinic down there. They have cots, mattresses, blankets, towels, showers, you name it. I'll haula a cot up here later."
"They closed the place last fall after they opened the new rec center so it's pretty quiet here most of the time. A guard checks the doors every night but that's about it. The janitors sometimes check out the first floor for a few minutes in the morning, but that's all. The university wants to either tear it down or remodel it into an office building but they've been undecided for years.
"Aren't you worried someone might come in and find you here?"
"Nope. I put a motion detectors on the main doors and on the back staircase that we came up. It's the only way up here so I'll know if someone's coming. I can make myself invisible pretty real quick."
"Sweet."
"Ok guys, lets go. I can unpack later. Anyway, it's your turn to buy me lunch, right?"
The other two give him a sour look as they all double-step back down the old staircase.
Time: 10:00 AM
Scott joins them at the Union and four guys hit the serving lines at once. They load up on muffins, pastries, coffee, bacon, eggs, toast, jam, hash browns, creme cheese and bagels. Jim pulls out a few Kansas dollars and actually pays, which stuns the others.
Spotting a round table in a secluded part of the building with no one near by, they unload their trays. Ben joins them, looking a bit worse for a night of wear.
"Thanks for the tin can burial shroud, guys," he says.
"We thought we'd send you out like a Viking warrior on a bier of your own empties," says Ben.
"Some of them actually still had real beer in them."
"Beer baths are good for the skin, I hear," says Scott.
"Not good for the couch, however."
"I need an aspirin," says Ben. "The beer bath was bad enough but I ran into Father Stiff Dick Feely on my way over here. If that prick asks me one more time to ride in that red SUV pimpmobile of his, I'm gonna personally castrate the fucker."
"Nah, he just wants to be your pal."
"He's a creeper."
"Don't they have a bishop or someone who's supposed control those guys?"
"You mean that dude with the $12 million mansion and all the gold jewelry? Nope, he's just another fat guy in a red dress."
"Not to change the subject,
but does anyone know anything about all those security trucks near the Dome?" asks Jim.
"Oh, you mean Fort Truck? That's where they're setting up the TV pool and security center. There's a couple of big state police trailers, and several more with a lot of convention agency names on it and a few smaller ones with no names," says Scott.
"How'd you know all this?"
"Oh, I got an email from the convention press office. They're recruiting people to work as ushers, gofers, whatnot. Seems this Munson speech is a big deal. They think he's gonna announce something important. Any of you guys want to volunteer?"
Crickets.
Scott rolls his eyes and finishes his coffee.
Standing, Jim crumples his paper plate, coffee cup, napkin and plastic utensils into a ball, tosses the wad into a nearby bin and says to Ryan, "Lets go take a look at those trailers."
"Sounds good to me. My eleven o'clock got canceled. The dude's at another white person privilege conference," says Ryan.
"So your aging hippie can't get enough group think around here?"
"It's in Hawaii, all expenses paid."
"Your tuition at work."
"Don't remind me. That course is bad enough as it is. How do they find idiots like him? And he's tenured! I'd rather gouge my eyes out than take another course from him!"
Shimmying into their backpacks, shutting down their laptops, attaching their earbuds, all rise and go their separate ways. Jim and Ryan leave in the direction of the Dome parking lot. The Dome is an indoor football stadium used for football and other events.
Time: 10:45 AM
As they walk across the mall towards the Dome, Jim leans over and, in a hushed voice, tells Ryan what happened in the attic of Bander Hall this morning. Ryan listens in hushed, speechless attention. When