Chapter Four
June 16th, 6:55 PM
As Margot drove her over to Hammerson's house, Erin had to constantly pull the hem of her silver sequined dress down. The spaghetti-strapped, tight mini stopped several inches above her knees when she was standing, and each bump along the road pushed it further up her thighs. She tried crossing her legs, but found that only bunched the skirt up past her butt and groin, which was a problem: Erin wasn't wearing any underwear tonight.
Her face had blushed red. "I think the dress might a little too skimpy," she said.
"Nonsense," Margot replied. She looked over at her friend working helplessly at the hem. "I'm sure everyone there will love it."
That was true. In a StayPuft Marshmallow costume, Erin would have been a knockout. In a little thing this tight and tiny, she was practically irresistible, which might come in handy when trying to sneak around Hammerson's house.
They drove through the massive iron gates of Hammerson's property and up the long unpaved road to his manor, a massive three-story stone structure built in a Grecian style. It wasn't an attractive house, to Erin, but it was definitely something. How could Hammerson get away with a residence so opulent, and inside city limits? He was so obviously corrupt; a mere picture of his mansion more than proved he had something going on besides lawmaking.
Margot pulled into the parking area next to the house, where a few dozen cars were already situated.
"Looks like it's gonna be a rager," Margot said. "Who knew Hammerson had friends?"
Erin nodded and smiled, watching an elaborately dressed old couple get out of their gleaming Italian sports car.
"I'd better get going," she said, setting her purse on her shoulder. "Maybe I can get lost in the crowd."
"You've got your phone?"
Margot had already asked that question several times tonight. The answer, of course, was "yes." Erin did have the crappy flip-phone that Margot had purchased for her to replace her previous smartphone, which had been confiscated by the Spaniel. Until Margot could install the Blue Lynx technology onto something more sophisticated, it would have to do.
Erin nodded. "I'll call you if anything happens."
"Remember, I can't see what's going on in there," Margot said. "So please let me know."
"I will," Erin said, and meant it. She owed Margot, big time. She had helped her get back into physical and emotional shape the past week, and encouraged her to never give up hope. And somewhere along the way, Margot had become a pretty capable fighter, even beating Erin a few times when they sparred. She didn't want to have to call the Black Bobcat in tonight, but she knew that if she did, Margot would be up to the task.
"Have fun," Margot said, grinning. "I'll hang out here."
"Thanks," Erin replied, with a smirk of her own. She stepped out of the car, gave her dress a mighty tug, and walked toward Hammerson's front door, moving gingerly on the heels of her white stilettos, filing behind a tall, broad man in a grey suit.
She looked ahead of the line, and noticed there were two men at the entrance acting as security. They were dressed in a manner alarmingly (or maybe, fittingly) close to the way Hammerson's thugs used to dress, and they were packing heat: she noticed holstered pistols on each man's hip. They appeared to be asking for invitations, which Erin didn't have.
Erin watched as they admitted the tall man in front of her, and then it was her turn. The guards gazed at her with blank, unforgiving expressions.
"Do you have an invitation, miss?" the one on the left side of the door said.
Erin smiled and batted her eyes. "I don't," she cooed. "I'm afraid I couldn't fit it anywhere on this dress." She spread her legs apart the slightest bit, allowing the hem of her skirt to again creep up her thighs.
"Sorry ma'am," the other man intoned. "If you don't have an invitation, I'll have to ask you to leave."
Erin made an exaggerated move toward her purse, bending over, giving the guards a rather intimate look at her chest. "Oh, it must be in here somewhere," she said. "It's just this purse is so... Frustrating..."
"Listen ma'am," the first guard said, his voice deeper and louder than before. "You're not going to seduce your way into Mr. Hammerson's house. I'm giving you to the count of ten. If you can't find that invitation, we will escort you off of the premises."
Erin hadn't expected her main tactic to be foiled so quickly. "Oh crap," she thought. "What do I do now?"
"Let me see your ID," the second guard said. "We'll check your name on the list."
Erin couldn't have them do that. "But," she thought. "I could..."
"... I'm Erin Steele," she said. "Mayor Steele's daughter. I'm here on behalf of the Steele family."
"The Mayor?" the first guard said, squinting his eyes at her. "Oh. You're right. Hello, Miss Steele. You can go right in."
The tension in Erin's body melted away. "Phew," she thought. She performed an embellished eye-roll and began to sashay inside, but was blocked at the last moment by the second guard's arm.
"Wait just a minute," he said. "Why would the Mayor need to send anyone to this fundraiser? The Mayor hates Mr. Hammerson."
Erin gulped. "It's, uh... For the sake of civility. In politics."
The first guard swatted the second guard away. "Yeah, man. Lighten up. The girl is here as an ambassador for peace."
The second guard shook his head, returning his hand to his side slowly. "Hmm," he said. "Alright. But we'll be watching you, Miss Steele."
Erin thought about sticking out her tongue at the guard, but refrained. She just closed her eyes and smiled, and strutted through the impressive double door entrance.
The interior of Hammerson's house was even more impressive than its edifice, and Erin found herself in a great room with all of the trappings of grotesque wealth: A roaring fireplace covering half a wall. A brilliant chandelier twirling above her head. A main staircase that was ten feet wide and covered with immaculate red carpet. Round tables with tablecloths covered in all kinds of decadent delights: truffles, caviar, champagne. It was breathtaking, but not necessarily in a good way: even though the room was sprawling, able to accommodate at least a hundred people (Erin's quick estimate of how many formally dressed dignitaries stood around, laughing and munching on snacks, plus at least four guards), Erin felt oppressed.
She recognized a few faces, people she had seen on TV, people she had been forced to shake hands with at dumb political gatherings. They were scumbags, most of them-- why else would they be at a fundraiser for Brent Hammerson?-- and she hoped to avoid them if she could. She kept her face down and wandered over to the long table at the side of the room that was being used as a bar.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" the mustached man on the other side of the table said.
"Just a seltzer water, please," Erin said.
The man shrugged and promptly poured Erin a glass of sparkling fluid, passing it across the table.
"Thank you," she said. She went to pick it up and take a sip.
"Erin Steele!" a voice said.
She turned to her side. Standing at the bar was a middle-aged woman in a long-sleeved red dress, holding a wine glass and staring at Erin with bemused look. What was her name? Catherine... Lilac? Something like that. She was one of Hammerson's chief allies in the House, and therefore, not a friend of her father's.
"Oh hi!" Erin said, with false enthusiasm.
"Fancy seeing you here!" Catherine said. "It's been so, so long. You on a mission from your father?"
"I'm on a mission, alright," Erin thought.
"Umm, yeah," Erin said. "He just figured I should stop in and, you know, pay my respects."
Catherine laughed. "Now when has your father ever respected Mr. Hammerson?"
That was a good question. Erin tried to laugh it off. "It's, you know, just the right thing to do. Civility in politics, and all that."
It was a clumsy explanation, but everyone seemed to love it. Catherine raised her wine glass up and winked at Erin.
"I'll drink to that," she said, inhaling the remainder of her beverage.
"Cheers," Erin said, trying to walk away. Catherine moved to protest, but both women stopped when they heard a clinking sound.
"Alright everybody," a voice boomed from the center of the room. Erin traced it to a small man that she didn't recognize, one hand on a glass, the other on a microphone. "At this time, we have a dear friend of Mr. Hammerson's who'd like to say a few words. Mrs. Sunflower, the mic is yours."
Sunflower? Erin stepped from the bar and stood on her tip-toes. She could see the small man passing the microphone off to a woman with long bleached-blonde hair, glasses, and a tight black dress. She wasn't wearing leather, but Erin knew immediately who "Mrs. Sunflower" was, and gritted her teeth when the woman began to speak.
"Good evening," she said. "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Regina Sunflower, and I'm a long time family friend of the Hammerson family."
Erin couldn't believe this. Was she living in a dream? Was Sunny, the woman who so ruthlessly carried out so many of her boss's vile plans, who had nearly defeated the Blue Lynx on multiple occasions, actually standing up and giving a formal speech? And just being welcomed, at this gala, like she was any other upstanding member of the community?
"I guess no one here's particularly upstanding," Erin thought. "And most of them probably don't know what I do about 'Regina Sunflower.'"
"I'm so honored, so very glad, that everyone could be here tonight. Brent... means a lot to me. And he means a lot to this city. Since he's been..." Sunny paused, sniffing into the microphone for emphasis, "...Out... The city has seen even more costumed menaces on the streets. The vigilantes who Brent so ardently tried to crush have now... Taken over."
Erin almost scoffed out loud. She could hear mumbling through the crowd, people whispering the words "Blue Lynx" and "Spaniel" and "terrorists" and "freaks." They were eating from the palm of Sunny's perfectly manicured hand. All eyes were on her.
"This could be my chance to sneak away," Erin thought. But she had to admit that she was curious to see where Sunny was taking this. She set her glass down on the bar.
"Lawlessness is the rule in the city," Sunny continued. "The Mayor... The Mayor..."
A few loud boos resounded through the great room. Erin looked from side to side. Had anyone noticed she was there? It didn't seem like it.
Sunny held out her hand. "The Mayor is trying, but not hard enough. If we want to be rid of these "superheroes" for good, we need Brent back. We need Brent back, NOW!"
The room erupted into deafening applause. Erin clapped a slow, heartless rhythm along with the crowd. She couldn't believe anyone could be into this crap. The Blue Lynx was obviously on the city's side. Why did they hate her so much?
"So please, donate what you can tonight," Sunny announced. "We are currently working on an experimental technology that will have Brent back in action soon, very soon. In no time at all, he'll be back to skinning Blue Lynxes! And putting Spaniels back in the doghouse!"
The applause was even louder this time, mixed in with guffaws and the stomping of feet. Erin couldn't take it anymore. She ducked down and weaved her way through the people, whispering to herself that she was only "looking for a bathroom," eager to silence "Mrs. Sunflower's" ridiculous rant.
"Brent cares!" Sunny called out. "Which is why we are investing in the most far-reaching care..."
Erin quietly crept out of the great room and found herself in a hallway. It was a long, mostly dark space, with just a few fake candles along the walls. They obviously didn't want partygoers coming here, as the two guards standing on either side of the hallway only made clearer.
"You there," one of them said, stepping toward Erin. "What are you doing back here? Party's in the big room."
"Oh sorry, guy," Erin said, trying to slur her words. "Umm... I'm just looking for the bathroom."
"Bathroom's the other way," the guard on her right said. "You go back out, take a right, go straight, and you'll see it."
Erin spun around, doing a little drunken dance. "Wait... Which way?" She pointed at the guard, and then at the wall behind him, and then at the doors she had entered through. She noticed the second guard coming her way now. Good.
The first guard sighed. "Listen, lady. You need to leave."
"Oh, yeah, and why's that?" Erin said, rolling her eyes wildly. Both guards were within a few feet of her now.
The first guard nodded at the second guard. "Could you get her out of here?"
The second guard moved to grab her, and Erin struck. She stepped on the guard's toe and lifted a punch up through his chin. He stumbled back into the wall, and Erin pounced at the first guard, wrapping herself around his neck, forcing him into a chokehold. He tried reaching for his gun, and Erin kicked his hand away with her stiletto heel. It took ten seconds for him to begin to lose consciousness. As he fell to his knees, the second guard pushed off the wall, leaping at Erin. She corralled the guard by the neck and directed him at the opposite wall, which he met primarily with his face. He gradually slumped to the ground, joining his partner in a knocked out heap on the elaborately rug-strewn hallway floor.
Erin looked down at the guards, grinned, and pulled down the dress that had bunched up near the top of her thighs. She wasn't in the best fighting attire-- but she was pleased that she could still fight. She hadn't had such a seamless battle in what seemed like months.
"Way to go, Blue Lynx," she thought. "Now let's have a look around."
She proceeded down the hallway on quiet but determined steps, passing a few open doorways. One appeared to lead into a spectacularly furnished dining room, the other to a kind of generic (to Erin, pointless) sitting room. Neither seemed like places to stash sensitive documents. More promising was the third portal Erin arrived at, a closed, heavy-looking door with a metal keypad near the handle.
"Hello there," Erin whispered, attempting to pull the handle. It didn't budge, of course. Erin tapped around the door frame, looking for a weak way in, but found nothing. If she wanted to get into this room, she'd have to try and crack its code.
"Here goes nothing," she thought, typing in 2-5-8-3-5-9-6-9.
She was pleasantly surprised, but not terribly shocked, when the keypad's light flashed green. "All he can think about is the Blue Lynx," she thought, pushing down the handle and opening the heavy door.
Erin flicked on the light switch, and found herself in a simple, sparsely furnished office. There was a medium-sized black desk with a laptop, a few basic office chairs, a book shelf with a few volumes, a file cabinet, a wastebasket. The contrast with the rest of Hammerson's mansion was striking, and almost a little disturbing-- Erin felt like she had stepped into a completely different building. The only thing about it resembling what she had seen thus far tonight was the set of large, ornately decorated windows looking out on an expansive backyard. She quickly shut the door and moved to the windows, pulling red curtains across the glass.
"This must be where Hammerson works," she thought, turning around in the room, still try to make sense of its minimalism. "Or at least, where he does his 'work.'" Surely there would be something here she could use...
She went to the desk and flipped up the laptop. Surprisingly, the computer was still on. The screen asked for a username and password.
"Not sure if I'll get lucky twice," Erin thought. She decided to check out the file cabinet. She pulled at its top handle and found it was locked. She pulled at the next; it was locked as well. Every drawer in the cabinet ended up being tightly secured.
"Dammit," she thought, moving back to the desk. She tried its top drawer and found a pencil, a pistol, and a set of keys on a ring. Bingo.
Erin took the keys to the file cabinet and, after fumbling through four or five different options, found a way to open the top drawer. Inside the cabinet was a series of simple manila file folders, each one marked with a tab, each tab with a word or two written in black sharpie.
"Let's see," Erin thought, scanning the tabs. "We've got MY PEOPLE, PAYMENTS RECEIVED, PAYMENTS DUE, PROPERTIES, DRUGS: FORMULA, DRUGS: RATES, LAWSUITS..." She smiled. "These look promising."
Suddenly, the silence of the room was exploded by a knocking at the door. Erin froze, her fingernails deep in the folders, and turned her head. It was then that she saw, just above the door, a small camera.
"Shit."
The door flew open, and guards came pouring into the room. At first, Erin felt like she had a hope, and she dispensed with the first two men who came her way with ease, kicking them into separate corners with little regard for how her dress rode up on her legs. But as pairs of guards kept coming, filling up the spare room with their boots, their weapons, their bulk, her enthusiasm gradually subsided. They were getting closer, were soon on her, were then deflecting her attacks, grappling her, pinning her arms to her side. There were now ten of them, fifteen, twenty, and just when it hit her that she no longer stood a chance, the end of a gun slammed into her temple, rendering her unconscious.
On to Chapter Five
No comments:
Post a Comment