Free 1 Manic Monday by Robert Michael Page A

offered, her smile genuine.
    “No problem.”
    The man smiled at him.  They were strangers, but why
did he feel like this scene was so familiar?  He felt a brief flash of
pain and a sense of dizziness.  A thought came unbidden to his mind: 
VANITY.  It was as if the word was written in red stencil across his
eyesight. Jake blinked away the image and almost took off the glasses.  He
had learned long ago to ignore such oddities.  If he pursued them, an
enormous migraine followed.  It was easier and less dangerous to just
ignore them and keep focused on the task at hand. 
    He heard the buzzing that signaled that the audio was
connected.  A blue flash arced across his vision as the video technology
and HUD came online. 
    “What floor?” The man was almost as tall as him, his
shoulders broad.  His blazer was long and stylish.  His hair was cut
close on the sides.  Jake guessed that he was ex-military.
    “Ground, please,” Jake responded.  “Thanks.”
    The man punched the buttons for “Ground” and for “Parking
Level Three” with thick, calloused fingers. 
    Those are not hands of a businessman, Jake
noted.  He glanced again at the woman who clutched a small purse to her
abdomen and stared ahead.  He could tell she had caught his glance.
    Who were these people?
    He could hear the team in New York confirming video and
audio connections.  He was told to look right and then left, up then
down.  Nod his head.  Cough.  Again.  
He felt like he was submitting to a physical.  Turn your head.  Bend
over.  Uncomfortable stuff.   Especially with Mr. and Mrs. Beverly Hills standing awkwardly next
to him.
    It was a good test of whether the audio and the HUD were
detectable, though.  Someone made some adjustments and the HUD became
fainter, its yellow lines and scrolling information bar fading enough for it to
not make his eyes water. 
    The elevator ride ended.  Without a word or a backward
glance, Jake stepped out into the breezeway between the Century Plaza and the
parking garage.  He heard the doors close.  He looked up and
confirmed security cameras.  Red lights were off.  He smiled. 
Holidays were the easiest time to pull off assignments like this.  Lower
staff levels, less witnesses.  Which made him think of
Mr. and Mrs. Beverly Hills.  
    Were they his back up?  A counter
assassination team?   An internal investigation
team?   Or did they work for Sinegem?  Regardless, he saw no
one else and they were gone now.  Besides, he needed to check in.
    “Monday requesting audio confirmation.  
Vector New Year 7114E.”  Who made up this stuff, anyway?
    “Confirmed.   Base clear.   Audio and visual confirmation, Vector New
Year,” Violet’s voice always sounded like a robot over transmission.  Jake
smirked.  Ironically, he would rather be talking to Lars.  Maybe he
had been bumped by the Darius Group.
    Galbraith Alliance normal protocol was being supplanted, but
that was what he expected for a rogue operation.  He wondered how much of
the operational expenses and personnel, digital and financial cookie crumbs of
this foolishness was being reported higher up the
chain.  He pushed it to the back of his mind for now.  Nothing could
stay a secret forever.
    “A/V confirmed, check.  Entering in 5, 4, 3....” Jake
walked briskly to the elevator, ignoring the security cameras.  They were
on a loop, anyway.  He glanced right and left as he entered the
building.  “No lookers.”
    “No witnesses.  Confirmed.  
Heat signatures show negative activity on first three floors.  Happy New Year.”
    Violet was not usually jovial during assignments.  Jake
took it for what it was worth.  She was showing off for the Darius
Group.  He fought the urge to roll his eyes.  Too
dangerous.   Maybe it would show up on his heat signature. 
    “You too.   Elevator
operational,” Jake said as the door opened.  He stared straight ahead as
he walked into the elevator and turned, focusing his