Indy and the Control Freak 17

for the story so far

Indy and the Control Freak

“Who are you?”  I demanded.  My hands shook holding the phone. Fuck, I was scared.

“You know, you fucking deserted me.  You were my fucking bitch and you deserted me,” the man was angry now.  I went cold, who the hell was this maniac?

Sam had dropped me at work five hours ago and I was tired.  I probably should have taken the day off, but I was almost through the day and the work wasn’t that taxing.  The stalker had rung and I was sitting in my cubicle.  My office space was bland and monotonous, unlike my life.

“I don’t know who you are,” I tried to keep calm, but I was frantically searching for the other phone Sam had given me this morning when he dropped me to work.  I’d dumped it in my bag.  Wrong move, there was too much crap in my bag.  It would take ages to find it.

“See, that’s all the thanks I fucking well get.  I looked after you, I want you to come downstairs now and not make a scene.”

“Ah no,” I responded automatically.  I wasn’t stupid after all.

“I’ll be waiting.” He hung up.  Sam’s phone rang five seconds later.

“Are you okay,” Sam asked immediately.  “We have your phone bugged.”

“Tell me you got a fix on him,” I instructed.

“Not quite, but he’s in your area.  Indy, so are we.  I’m going to come up to your desk.  You can make up some sort of crap about me being there, but I am staying for the rest of the day.  What did he say?”

“Said I should go outside.    He was waiting for me.”  My voice trembled.

“Honey, we are not going to let him get you.  I’ll be up there in a minute, do not go anywhere.”  Sam instructed me.  I was quite happy to keep that instruction.


“He’s on-site somewhere,” Sam said opening the door of the car that he, Alastair and Rom were sitting in.  “I’m going in and we’ll take her back to the office.”

“What if she argues?”

“Somehow I don’t think she is at that stage, she’s shit scared at the moment.”

Sam shut the door softly behind him and entered the Parole Board’s building.

It was old and in need of a major renovation.  Floors were cracked, no one greeted him even though there was a reception desk.  He picked up his pace, taking the stairs instead of the lift, up to the 7th floor where Indy worked.  Behind him, the door closed and he heard the sound of a lock clicking in place.  Was that the stalker, or was that just the old building?  He picked up his speed, maintaining his silent gait.  At the seventh floor, he looked over the railing.  There was someone on the stairs below him.  He could just make out a piece of fabric, a hint of a shadow.  He exited.

Sam waited patiently on the other side of the stairwell.  If he went to Indy now, he would scare off her stalker.  It was a good plan except the risk would still be there.  He would have not actually done anything other than protecting Indy and she was getting sick of being protected, he knew that.  He could wait and see who came out of the stairwell.  Who was following him?  Was it the stalker?   Had Beth done something stupid like put her friend Ghost on the case as well?  The fellow on the stairwell had been silent and even Sam knew of Ghost and his reputation for being deadly silent.

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Beth, just in case.  Then he scanned the room.  The fire stairs emptied into the main room with office grey fabric faced notice boards serving as a boundary between the lift area and the offices.  Above them he could see a row of offices on the far side, facing windows that looked out onto the grey surrounds of another building.  He could not see over the barriers onto people’s desks but he could hear them.  There was a steady buzz of conversation and every few seconds a phone rang somewhere.  The room was noisy.  At the moment, no one was wandering around, no heads were visible over the barriers.

The area he was in was a wide corridor containg the central elevator system beside him and the fire stairs.  A water cooler stood on the other side of the fire stairs.

The door to the fire stairs opened and a man walked out confidently carrying a package in his hand.  Sam’s face drained of color.  The man who walked out surveyed the room and turned to look Sam in the eye.

“You,” the man said, lifting the package up.

“You’re the,” but Sam did not get to finish the sentence.  Instead, the package came thumping down onto Sam’s head.  Sam ducked, but the package still caught him.  He kicked out at the same time as he felt a blackness descend on him.

Indy and the Control Freak 18

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