receiving end of compliments and more than a few lingering stares, but not many gifts. At first John was puzzled when he saw the two embrace. Dale was too old and too dog faced for her. However, John realized that this guy was perceptive and filled to the brim with empathy. Apparently, his girlfriend liked that.
The fat man was another story. He stood aside and watched with longing. Now here was a guy made of nothing but frustration. John's first conclusion was the same as anyone's. Big boy was jealous of old dog face. It was soon apparent, however, that this was not the exact truth. Rather, John could see that sweaty arms fatty pants hated them both. He wasn't interested the woman. He wanted someone else who wouldn't have him.
Dale left his lady and the fat one turned to someone that John couldn't see. He and the woman were frightened. They walked off. John didn't like what he'd seen. No more than five minutes had passed during this little vignette in the window and it was clear to John that something was very wrong here. After another few minutes, Dale returned and the expression on his face was anxious and unnerving. John found Jason and took him through the door.
“It is you.” said Dale. “Who are you?”
“I'm John, an outside tech.”
“Why would you bring your kid into this? Is this really worth it?”
“Um...” said John, “Not sure what you mean, but the answer that question is usually no.”
Dale looked away, to where everyone else had gone. There was a conference room. The fat man and Dale's girlfriend were inside, along with George and some other, younger woman. They were seated. Another old man, this one possessed of far more vigor than the one standing next to John, was pacing and lecturing. John couldn't make out what he was saying.
John said, “You work here? You looked worried.”
“I am.” he said. “About you and them.”
“You work with all these people? What's going on?”
“Huh?” Dale said, still watching the conference room. “I work for Blue Water.”
“What the hell is Blue Water? Eh, forget it. So?”
“So what?” said Dale.
“Should I be worried?”
“Probably.” he said, turning to John. “Should I?”
“I really don't know, man.”
Everyone in the conference room screamed. John and Dale looked back. The man who had been pacing had a pistol. The others were scooting away from him. Dale raced over. John knew better. He took Jason by the arm and went back the way he'd come. He found the service entrance door that lead to the elevator, but it was locked. The only other door was the one with the unresponsive card reader. Maybe there was an escape through there, but in case there wasn't, John needed to secure the room he was in.
“Help me.” he told Jason.
“Is there going to be a gun fight?”
“Well, there's only one gun, so no. Help me, okay?”
They pushed a table full of electronics in front of the door with the window. John was surprised at how strong the boy was. Then John pulled out his phone.
“Who are you calling?” said Jason.
“Kid, I'm calling your mom.”
One of the buds was still in his ears and playing the song, a number from the band Stanford Prison Experiment. It rattled through his head as he dialed up Ruth.
Open me and surprised to see
There are three... of me
One foolish lover that's found his way to the truth
Oh he wants a piece of you
One lonesome traveler who has lost his way home
Oh he wants a piece of you
One blind man chained to the pillars of your heart
You bet your life
That he wants a piece of you.
TWENY FOUR
In few seconds it took him to cross the office, Dale's brain assaulted him with snapshots of what might happen next. A bang and pieces. Pieces of glass, pieces of splintered wood, pieces of the people he cared about. All littered across the floor.
When Reggie saw him, he fired at him through the open door. Dale cowered before Reggie pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The bullet must have missed. Reggie walked through the door with his arm held out. He had that look, that certain look. It was plain that he meant to pull the trigger as many times as it took. Reggie was out to end another man's life today.
Dale ran. He saw the man and the kid he'd just spoken with inside the engineering room. Dale pushed on the door and it didn't budge. Through the window he could see they'd barricaded the door. He could also see John on his phone. Dale pounded on the door and the guy held up an index finger. Wait a minute, he was saying. Take your turn.
Reggie found Dale and said, “You made this happen.”
“You're going to kill for me it?” said Dale, crouched by the door. “In front of everyone?”
“I have my reasons. What happens to me doesn't matter. The Sorter will survive.”
“You can keep it.”
Reggie held the gun very close to Dale's head.
TWENTY FIVE
“What have you done?” said Ruth.
John hadn't said anything yet. Ruth had known something before she even picked up the phone.
She said, “I know about the bomb threat.”
Bomb threat? thought John, though he didn't have time to say it.
“Someone inside that building called me on my cell phone. They also told me to go inside Reggie's condo and when I did it turned out the Sorter had framed me. I figure it's not done with me.”
“And you think I've done something?” said John.
“I did a little digging. Another call came in about a white van. It's your white van.”
John guessed that's what had made Dale worry, even if he seemed awfully cool about it.
Ruth said, “So I'm asking the question again-”
“Did it ever occur to you that the Sorter may have framed me too?”
It hadn't even occurred to John up until that moment. He pressed his palm against he forehead.
John said, “For a while I believed the Sorter. I believed it. You see, you can't trust it.”
Ruth sighed. “Right now I don't care. Are you and Jason still in the building?”
“All this time it was telling me I'm someone I'm not. What do you think it wants with us?”
“John. John? Are you inside or out? Is Jason safe?”
“We're inside. We didn't hear anything about a bomb threat.”
John heard more noise outside. He moved to a spot in the room where a bullet wouldn't be able to hit him if it came through the door with the window. Jason came with him. The kid didn't complain or show any fear. John liked that. He always considered himself an unlikely one to panic. He and his sister had grown up in the industrial city of Chelsea, on the north side of Boston across the Mystic River. These days it was posher, with the expansion of Tufts University and its muscular security apparatus. However, in their childhood it was suffering from the nadir of Boston's post-industrial decline. It wasn't so nice back then.
Ruth said, “John? Are you and Jason ok?”
“Yeah, Ruth. We're fine.”
Ruth said, “You didn't get a bomb threat? The alarm didn't go off, did it?”
“The system's broken. That's why I'm here.”
“God, I thought so. The woman who called me and others within the department is inside Polymath. All we know is that she has a foreign accent that no one's been able to place so far. She or whoever she's working with set off an alarm in the mall and the other offices. Everyone's been evacuated. Everyone but you and the others in that office.”
“I'm not a part of this.” said John.
“Were you outside a restaurant in the South End earlier?”
“Yeah. Ruth, I went there because the Sorter told Dr. Lane to take Alice away.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“I don't know, it had something to do with my dad
. I got upset and...”
“Did you make threats about doing something to Polymath or the Sorter?”
He was quiet for a minute.
Ruth said, “Did you?”
John was quiet when he spoke again. “It happened after I got the job.”
“And you're not working with anyone on the inside to plan this?”
“The Sorter didn't tell Dr. Lane about Alice until after I got the job. That's what I'm saying.”
“I'll talk to her.” said Ruth.
“Do that.”
“I want to believe you, John.”
“Do that too.”
“So you're still inside.” said Ruth. “Do you know what's in the package? In your van?”
“No idea, but I don't want to know. Jason and I are leaving when we get that chance.”
“You can't; it's too late.” Ruth paused and then said, “The caller said that if anyone leaves now, the bomb will detonate.”
John swore under his voice and glanced at Jason. He was beginning to realize that they were at the tail end of this particular row of dominoes. The threat was out, the bomb was in, and he was already a suspect. He was a step behind, but he could find some hope that a plan as careful as this had a rational conclusion. It wasn't the work of someone like him, some nut on a loose bolt. He was playing a game with a goal and that might be his salvation.
John said, “I've met the woman you're talking about. Did she make any demands?”
“Not yet. What I can do now is figure out what's in the box. Where did it come from?”
“A place called Sylvan Laboratory Solutions, 84 Vassar Street in Cambridge.”
“I'm going.” she said. “Promise me you'll keep your head down.”
“I will.”
“Promise me, John.”
“I did.”
There was pounding on the door. John wandered out of his safe zone and was in front of the door again. He