Anamnesis: A Novel (26 page)
Read Anamnesis: A Novel Online
Authors: Eloise J. Knapp
They’d trashed it at some point. I imagined
after they found out I was involved in Chuck’s death they came looking. As I
wandered around I found all my drugs were gone. Some dredges of liquor were
left behind, all of which I finished off as I found them. The mattress was
overturned. My easy chair had a gash down its center. I tossed my bags by the
chair as I mourned the loss of one of my nice things.
I took in the state of the place quickly
while I searched for my phone charger. I plugged it in and saw I was out of
minutes. Stupid fucking burner phones. I found Olivia’s phone number and
scrawled it on my hand, then rushed downstairs to the pay phone in the lobby. I
used more of the change I scavenged at Hugh’s to call her.
No answer.
I called again and the number went
straight to voicemail. She was ignoring the calls on purpose. I guess I
shouldn’t have expected her to do anything else. When she said she wanted me
gone, she meant it.
“Olivia, it’s Ethan. I know you don’t want
to talk to me but please listen. Don’t go to the gala tomorrow. Just don’t go.”
It was too ambiguous. Without a solid reason not to, she would go. “I told
Donovan about the mayor, about everyone. They’re going to get them tomorrow. I
don’t want you to get hurt. Please.”
I hung up. A feeling of hopelessness
washed over me. Donovan was going to kill the men after he got what he wanted.
That was fine with me. But it was going to be messy. There would be casualties.
A day sat between me and the gala. There
was nothing I could do, no more answers to find. I returned to my apartment and
went straight to the kitchen where I retrieved some coffee grounds from the
freezer and got a pot brewing. At least they hadn’t destroyed the second nicest
thing I owned. I searched the fridge and found an opened package of saltine
crackers. Better than nothing.
I sat in my abused easy chair and listened
to the sounds of nightlife in the city while the crackers leached all moisture
out of my mouth. Waiting wasn’t my thing. It put me in that place where I had
nothing to do but reflect.
This time, the end
was
close. Where
was I going to go? Who was I going to be once it was over? I wondered if
Donovan would truly let me go. If he got what he wanted from the men, he’d stay
true to his word. I bet he’d even give me my old job back.
I looked around my bleak apartment again.
The thought of resuming my life was horrifying and impossible. For so many
years I’d been making stipulations. If I knew my past, then I’d make a life for
myself. If I could figure out what happened to me, then I could move on. Now
that I was meeting those requirements, it was daunting. Easier said than done.
Instead of wallowing I got up and forced
myself into the shower where I stayed until my skin was pruned and the water
went lukewarm. There were no towels, so I used a semi-clean shirt to dry off. I
gulped down the first mug then sipped the rest of the pot.
It was almost eleven. The beginning of the
day was distant. To think last night Olivia and I were eating noodles. My chest
ached as I recalled it.
What if I’d lied to her about the videos?
I was beginning to think that was the right thing to do. Sometimes the truth
was the last thing a person needed. I would’ve saved her the horror of seeing
herself.
A memory came up, one from my childhood. I
was with my mother and father sitting on a couch. Their faces were always
blurred and when I dredged up the image. Our dog died and they told me she’d
gone to heaven and that all things died eventually. It was sad, but part of
life. I cried and yelled at them. How dare they tell me that? Didn’t they know
how much it hurt me? I sensed the finality of life, but there was something
about them saying it out loud that made it real. It was as though if we could
just ignore it, it wouldn’t be true.
I looked over my apartment at the stacks
of overdue library books, each one an emblem of my failure to change. Their
messages went ignored because if I believed them, if I actually applied them,
it would be irrefutable evidence that I was broken. Belligerent and angry, I
could talk about how fucked up I was and use it as an excuse.
But the right thing? The right thing was
to look straight at the mess and say, I’m done.
I found every book I had and stacked them
by the door. When this was over I was going to return every last one of them
and never look again.
I was done.
Without any money, not even enough for the
bus, I was left walking for the day. I stopped at Olivia’s office and waited
for two hours outside. She never came. At one point I even went upstairs and
dealt with her snobbish receptionist who informed me she wasn’t coming in the
office at all due to an important event.
I hung outside her apartment—turning down
multiple solicitations from some usuals that spotted me—but left when a police
car circled me twice. After that I headed to the location of the gala. It was
due to start in an hour. It was at the Fairmont Hotel in downtown Seattle.
Trucks of all kinds lined the loading zones; flowers, catering, rental
services. Security was posted at every door. I circled the block and found a
parking garage entrance that also lead to an underground loading dock. Security
there was at a reduced level. It looked like everyone was wrapping up their
deliveries.
Now was my time. While most of the
delivery people outside and in the garage had uniforms on, there were a few in
plain clothing. The bored guards didn’t even bat an eyelash at anyone walking
into the service entry if they had a box in hand. Even when a new crew of
people arrived, they only looked at their boxes and ushered them forward.
It took fifteen minutes of waiting behind
an Escalade for the right moment. A seafood truck was parked just out of
immediate sight of the guards and was abandoned, all of its inhabitants already
inside delivering their first boxes. I ran a hand through my hair and took a
deep breath.
Act natural.
I strolled up to the back of the truck,
which reeked of saltwater, freezer burn, and fish. There were a dozen crates of
salmon on ice. I slid one towards me and carried it to the entrance.
Mimicking the actions of the people I’d
seen before, I went to move by the guard and into the service entry.
He raised his hand and put it in front of
my box. I stopped and looked at him. “What’s up?”
“Where did you come from? The rest of the
fish guys are already upstairs.”
Shit. Here we go.
“I was in the back of the truck. Was
moving the rest of the boxes so we could unload faster.”
The guard shrugged. “Okay. Head up. Miss
Holloway is going to lay into you for being so late. Trust me, I know.”
“Yeah, figured,” I grumbled, not having to
feign the camaraderie. I nodded curtly and moved into the service area. There
were stairs and two elevators. One elevator had ‘Kitchen’ emblazoned in yellow
letters across the doors.
That’s where I was supposed to go. Behind
me I heard the security guard strike up a conversation with his partner about
food, and whether or not they’d get dibs on any of the leftovers. Their
attention was elsewhere.
What to do with my fish? If I ran into the
delivery guys I was screwed, but I couldn’t carry around a crate of fish while
I looked for Olivia. At the opposite end of the room a hallway stretched to the
left of the elevators. It led to a laundry room and a janitorial closet. I went
straight to the closet, which ended up being a huge room filled with bulk
cleaning supplies, and set the fish under a shelf of bleach.
Step one complete. It wasn’t until I
rubbed my neck that I felt the sheen of nervous sweat I’d developed. My pulse
throbbed in my throat. I’d kill for a cigarette or anything harder.
I tore open a package of paper towels and
wiped down my exposed skin while I thought of my next move.
Olivia was upstairs somewhere and I needed
to get her out. I’d told Donovan all the men he wanted would be at the gala—a
safe assumption on my part—and there would be security. After I divulged all
the information I had, he had me driven back home. I didn’t know his plans for
certain, but I knew Donovan. He would make a show of it. He wanted to show he
was in charge and a force to be reckoned with. A public display of power would
achieve that.
Right then, Olivia could have been
anywhere in the building getting preparations in order for the party. But once
it started, she had to be in the main ball room. I needed to time my entrance
perfectly; right when the party would be in swing, I had to get up there, grab
her, and get her out.
That was assuming security didn’t nab me
first. I doubted my jeans, torn and sweaty t-shirt, and dull leather jacket
counted as black tie.
I waited an hour in the janitor’s room. It
was the longest hour of my life. The small hand on the clock, covered in a
metal cage on the wall, moved fluidly instead of ticking. It bothered me so I
sat facing away from it against a tower of boxes of hand soap, checking only so
often. There was a giant laminated map of the building layout on one wall, I
guessed for the staff’s use, that I used to memorize my route.
When the time came, I was in motion. I
left the janitor’s room and headed up the stairs I spotted when I arrived. As I
climbed out of ground level, I started picking up on the faint sound of string
music.
At the top of the stairs a set of swinging
double doors lead into a long, harshly lit corridor with checkered tile. There
were food carts flanking both sides of the hallway. Men and women in black and
white waiter attire were prepping carts of tiny appetizers. No one noticed me.
They were too absorbed in their work to pay much attention. Besides, if I was
already up here I must belong, right?
“Janice, you need to be on drinks not
amuse-bouche! Ward is delivering his introductory speech in 5!”
“On it! You guys with me!”
The people were a whirlwind, all headed in
the same direction towards the music.
I walked behind them with more confidence
now, all the way down the corridor. To the right was another set of swinging
double doors that opened into the grand ballroom. The waiters held platters of
thin champagne flutes over their heads.
Once they were in and the doors stopped
swinging, I peered through the port window. The crowd was massive. The women
wore lavish gowns of all colors while the men seemed to be wearing the same
kind of tuxedo. I tried to hone in on one area at a time, searching blocks of
people rather than scanning the whole crowd.
I spotted Hugh and his father almost
immediately. They were surrounded by a handful of tuxedoed men near a bar
erected in the corner of the ballroom. Each had a glass of amber liquid,
something I bet cost a fortune and had a taste to match.
My gaze kept traveling. Waiters darted
around the group making sure people had drinks. A pretty black haired girl
handed a flute to Donovan.
Fuck. There stood Donovan with one of his
usual buddies, dressed to the nines in a tailored suit. I didn’t expect him to
be in on the action this closely. How did he get in? Had he paid someone off?
I took a deep breath. This didn’t change
anything
“Hey, are you kitchen or waitstaff?”
The voice startled me. I turned and was
face to face with a young man in a suit clutching a clipboard for dear life.
His face was delicate and I think he had on eye makeup.
My answer came off more as a question than
anything. “Kitchen?”
He ran his finger down a page. “Oh, late
shift? Where’s your uniform?”
“Yeah, late shift. It’s in my car. Haven’t
changed yet, still have a few hours.” Damn, I was getting good at all this
undercover shit.
“Why are you here so early?” He looked
through the porthole and gave me what I imagined was a sympathetic smile. “Came
to watch the rich and famous a bit first? We’ve all been there. No worries.
Just get to your shift on time and we’re good, okay?”
“Got it. Thanks.”
The guy pushed by me into the ballroom.
Music swelled louder then dampened as the door shut. I continued my search for
Olivia and at last found her at the center of a group of people. She wore a
sleek emerald green ball gown that brushed the floor. Both hands rested in
front of her clutching a small purse. She had her mask on. That brilliant smile
flashed as she spoke. I knew it now and I knew she was nervous. When she wasn’t
speaking her jaw tensed. Her gaze never stayed on one person too long. She kept
looking at the front of the room.
It was a narrow stage she kept looking to,
about twenty feet away. A microphone was in the center. Behind it a string
quartet played. Above them a giant picture of the mayor hung with patriotic
banners and bows. His jowly face looked friendly enough. But I knew what he
really looked like, at his most vile.
Overhead, chandeliers dimmed. The quartet
finished the last note of their melody and rested their instruments. A
spotlight lit up the microphone. A handful of men walked up onto the stage. I
recognized two; the mayor and Bolt, the SPD captain.
Bolt went to the microphone and tapped it.
“Is this thing on?”
The crowd gave him an obligatory laugh. It
was worse than the canned laughter on TV. This was even more fake.
“I’m away from the station tonight with
you all because tonight, we’re here to celebrate and promote a man known for
his honesty, devotion, and compassion. My dear friend, Lewis Ward, has dreams
to help make this city, state, and country a better place.”
Fucking murderers.
The words kept
running through my head. I wanted to puke. Bolt had the crowd’s attention. They
beamed at him. They thought he was great, and so was the mayor.
I tried to step outside of my rage. I was
here to get Olivia, not to dwell on the monsters on stage. With the lights
being dimmed, now was the best time to grab her.
I gently pushed the door open and worked
my way around the perimeter of the room to where she still stood. As I neared
one of the exits, it swooshed open nearly hitting me in the face. One of
Donovan’s lackeys from the previous night came out.
“E, I suggest you get outta here.”
Behind him in the hallway were ten of
Donovan’s men. They carried sub machine guns and a few shotguns. Further down I
spotted two security guards slumped against the wall, their throats slashed.
Fuck.
Fuck
. I pushed by him into
the crowd. I had to find Olivia. The crowd was fixed on the police captain who
was doing a piss poor job of using a boating story as a metaphor for how great
Ward would be as Senator. They had no idea what was coming.
Bolt finished his story. “Now, without
further ado, let me introduce you to Lewis Ward, the man of the hour!”
The mayor sauntered up to the microphone.
He gave the crowd a sheepish grin and opened his mouth to speak when a stream
of gunfire shredded the man standing to his right.
A split second of shock, then screams.
People turned to run for exits. It was chaos. Security guards pushed through to
get to the mayor. One by one they fell as Donovan’s men shot them. Already on
the outside of the group, I spotted two exits already blocked by men with
assault rifles pointed at the crowd. Donovan’s men.
“Get down on the ground now!”
I wasn’t sure who was yelling it but as
people began dropping onto their stomachs on the ground, I followed suit. Those
who were left standing were Donovan’s people and the brave security guards who
fired back, but were overwhelmed and dead in an instant. On my initial count
there were over twenty of Donovan’s men. Most were dispersed at the exits. Three,
including Donovan, were at the stage. It was Donovan who’d been ordering people
to get down on the ground.
Shit. My plan went out the window.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we will be out of
your lovely party in a minute. I’m here for four men. Two of them, I already
have.” He kicked the mayor who was now on his knees, hands tied behind his back
with two wraps of duct tape around his mouth and head. Beside him they were in
progress tying Bolt. “But I need two more. I want Hugh and Stanley Raven. Stand
up now.”
I lifted my head to try and get a better
view of the bar where I’d last seen them. No one moved in that area. I scanned
for Olivia. Someone jacked the lights back up to full blast.
She was looking right at me. Her face was
blank as our eyes locked. She was on her stomach about fifteen feet away from
me, her chest propped up slightly as she rested on her elbows.
“Nothing?” Donovan laughed. He raised his
gun—a shotgun I knew he thought made him look like a badass—and fired at one of
his nonessential hostages. The man’s head exploded, gore slapping against the
stage.
Around me were frightened moans and
screams. Donovan pulled a woman from the crowd, and without making his request
again, fired point blank into her chest.
“How many more have to die?” Donovan pointed
the shotgun at the crowd. “Tell me where the Ravens are.”
