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All Rights Reserved by Gregory Scott Katsoulis (32)

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I had to enter Malvika Place on the seventy-seventh floor. From there, I could travel up through the inside of the building. It was a reckless idea without Kel’s Pad, but I didn’t see a choice.

I was able to shoot a line from a nearby rooftop to the sixtieth floor, but the rest of the way up was a grueling, nerve-racking climb with suction and magnetic boots. I had to will my hands to keep steady. My stomach was in knots. One slip could kill me, and my team wasn’t here to catch me.

Kel, I’m sure, would have thought what I was doing was foolish. In a way, it was easier for me to go on now that I didn’t have to think about disappointing her and the team. If it mattered to her what I did, she wouldn’t have drummed me out of the Placers.

As I peeled one cup off the glass and replaced it higher up, I thought about how Henri would have helped if I had asked. Henri would have done anything for me, I think. I wondered if Margot was glad now that I was gone, and the way was clear for her to coyly needle him until he finally noticed her.

I looked down at the lines of the building gathering in perspective, far below, and was dizzied by the thought of Sam so high. I couldn’t bring him this way. But I was doubtful I could get through into the lobby. If I couldn’t bring him to her, I would have to bring Carol Amanda Harving to him. Could I get her to our home, so she could speak to Sam and Saretha and see what she had done? I had no idea how I was actually going to manage that without words. I could take her hand and lead her, but it didn’t seem realistic to think she would be led. I could use sleep gas; I still had the canister. It would be far better than the murderous nightmare that itched in my brain.

I grew angry thinking about how unlikely it was that Carol Amanda Harving would do the right thing—especially if I had to kidnap her. But if appealing to her sense of right and wrong didn’t work, she might be intimidated by the fact that I had found her.

I was wasting my time trying to work it out while dangling on the side of her building. I had to focus on getting inside—though I had no reason to think she would even be home.

When I finally reached the seventy-seventh floor, the dome was near enough that I could touch it. The porous surface of the Aeroluminum® looked as insubstantial as smoke. Three feet beyond was a night sky I had only seen recreated on screens.

I broke the magnetic seal around a hallway window and swung it gently open, relieved I didn’t have to smash any glass. The lights were off. I listened carefully, but all I could hear was my heart pounding and a gentle hiss of air cycling through the building’s vents. I dropped lightly inside, closed the window and listened again. I knew I was in one of four apartments on this floor; I remembered the layout. Everything was soft brown carpet and wide leather couches. I prayed no one was home.

The window locked behind me with a soft tick. I held my breath and moved into the room. In my pack I carried two leftover boxes of Downy® fabric softener, a small pedestal and a track light. I took one out. I placed it on a table in case an unseen camera had its eye on me. I didn’t know if this would truly work as a cover, but it was my only option.

Where’s your team? I could imagine someone asking if I was caught. A Product Placer should never be caught! The amusing thing was that, if this ever was to occur, a Product Placer is instructed not to speak. That, at least, I could easily do. It would be better to be a humiliated Product Placer than arrested for attempted kidnapping.

I made it into the hall quickly. Now I was at greatest risk. I could not be seen in the main area. A Product Placer would have no reason to be out here, fabric softener or no. My counter security gear knocked the cameras into a looped feed.

Going up on the elevators seemed risky. What if someone was coming home late? On the other hand, the stairs might be worse. No one who lived in this building would use them, so there was no chance of bumping into someone, but they could be rigged for motion, or heat, which my systems wouldn’t suppress. I didn’t have the benefit of Kel’s schematic; only the skills I had learned in my short time working with the team.

I stopped at the three elevators and watched. The central one was in motion. I waited. It didn’t stop. This building had 108 floors, so the odds that they would stop here, on floor 77, were low.

Unless I had been seen.

I panicked and pressed the call button, then quickly realized that was a mistake. I balled my fist in frustration and held my breath. I wasn’t a spy. I don’t know what I was. Maybe I was a spy, just not a very good one. No one should have been able to see me with the loop. I relaxed my breathing. Nothing would come from panicking. I had to keep my cool.

I crossed my fingers, praying one of the other two elevators would begin to move, called by me. Neither did. The system sent what was closest. The indicator crept up: 60, 61, 62... If it was traveling above me, it would stop here, and I would be seen by whoever was inside. 63, 64, 65... I quickly considered rushing back to the apartment I’d come from. I could hide inside and wait silently in the dark. 66, 67...

It paused on 67. I could imagine some drunken Affluents staggering off and stumbling down the hall to their posh apartment. It was nearly 4:00 a.m. I pictured them in my head, waited for their doors to close. Maybe they were even drunker than I imagined. Another second passed, two, and then, 68, 69, 70...

Hopefully the car was empty now. 71, 72, 73... I had no way of knowing. What if it was filled with people? I stepped back. 74, 75, 76... What if someone held a fabulous party down on the fiftieth floor, and now all the disgorged revelers were heading upward? I held my breath and pulled out my lock pick, keeping my eyes fixed on the elevator.

The doors opened with a ping: 77.

The elevator was empty. I rushed forward, pressed the button for 89, and up I went.

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