Free Boystown 7: Bloodlines by marshall thornton

and a few elevator banks. The back of the elevator bank was an expanse of tile with the Federal Seal in the middle.  
    Dozens of people walked across the lobby, on their way to offices upstairs, on their way out of the building. I wondered how many thousands of people walked across the space every day. There was no place to go unnoticed, though. Everyone was visible and anyone standing around for hours would draw attention. On the wall by the elevators was a directory. I studied it for a few minutes. There was no listing for anything on the twenty-third floor. The IRS was on the twenty-fourth, and on the twenty-second the office of Alderman Kenkowski of the Second Ward.
    Without thinking too much about it, I got into one of the elevators and pressed 23. The elevator filled and began to rise. The first stop was the twentieth floor. Another elevator ran from the first floor to the nineteenth. The second stop was twenty-three and I got off. Luckily, I got off alone and found myself in a cream-colored space with doors at either end. I walked to my right and looked up and down the bland hallway. Most of the office spaces were just labeled with numbers. There was a law office at the end of the hallway, Clarkson and Peters, which I guessed did a lot of business with the Federal government. Halfway down was a men’s room. I tried the door but it was locked and required a key. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t hang out in the restroom all day. Not only would it be suspicious if anyone noticed me but there was no guarantee I’d learn anything.
    I walked by the elevator and entered the other hallway. It was virtually indistinguishable from the first. Most of the offices were again unmarked. I tried a couple of the doors, ready to tell anyone inside that I was looking for Clarkson and Peters, but the doors were locked. Near the end of the hallway, I found an office with a plaque that said “British Export Company.” Clever , I thought. Most people wouldn’t think twice about their business name. Even though if there were a real British Export Company they’d be located in England. A company doing similar business in the United States would be called British Import Company.
    Letting my hand rest on the doorknob, I tried to think whether to try to open it. It would be interesting to see their setup. If anyone was in there I could say I was looking for the attorney’s office like I’d planned, even though that would make me look like I couldn’t read a plaque on the door. The thing is, worse than looking stupid, I was afraid of being recognized. It wasn’t likely but I might know whoever they had from the CPD. Or, I might be recognized later on…I wasn’t sure I should risk it. I wasn’t even sure I knew what it was I wanted to see. I took my hand off the door and walked back down the hallway to the elevator. Pushing the down button, I stood there waiting.
    Then I heard a door open far down the hallway I’d just come from. I pushed the down button again, even though I knew perfectly well the elevator wouldn’t come any faster. Voices grew closer as I waited. I considered running around the corner into the other hallway but that seemed ridiculous. I didn’t even know if the voices coming down the hall were part of the task force. There were other doors they could have come out of. On top of that, if they were from the task force, an elevator mysteriously opening with no one there might raise—
    The elevator opened, I stepped into the car. I hit the down button a number of times hoping that the door would close before the voices got there. But it didn’t. Two men in their late thirties got into the car. They were both thick-bodied, kept their hair in crew cuts, and wore inexpensive suits with trench coats draped over their arms. In my experience, they looked like Federal agents. I looked like a bum who’d lost his way.
    Quickly, I reached over and hit 22 before the doors closed, by way explanation I said, “Wrong floor. Did