Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
“Yes, sure. Okay.”
After a few pleasantries, he left the room, his erection still in full view. Honey took a deep exhale and blinked back her emotions. The idea of prior patients being in a room with him, under his scrutiny, and going under the knife, unconscious while he did Lord only knew what to them floored her. She slid off the table, gathered her clothing and put herself back together, fixing her hair in the reflection of the glass on a piece of art on the wall.
When she was finished, she made her way to the front lobby area. She felt as if she’d lived inside this place for weeks, for the maps and photos of the interior that Archer supplied to her had shown every nook and cranny. She still wondered how he obtained that information, but Archer always managed to get what he wanted.
A few women were sitting in the lobby on their phones, flipping magazine pages or just looking bored, waiting. She turned back towards the receptionist, had a bit of small talk, and made her bloodwork appointment. Then, she was handed a small bag full of pamphlets, as well as the doctor’s card. As she started to leave, she pivoted right back around.
“Oh, before I go, can you tell me where the restroom is?”
“Sure. You want to go down…” Go down this hall. Hook a left. Second to last door on the right. “…And it’s not the last door, but the one before that, on the right-hand side where the large fruits and vegetables poster is.” I know this shit like the back of my hand now.
“Thank you very much.” She jammed the bag in her purse and headed to the restroom. She immediately sent a text message to Archer, letting him know the status. He responded by telling her to leave the bathroom in three minutes for the next cycle of time on the cameras. While there, she put her heels in her purse, switched into the ballet flats, tied her hair in a ponytail, and then made her way toward the steps. There was a large heavy door that led to the stairway. She pushed it open, being as quiet as possible, went down two flights, then typed in the code she’d memorized to unlock the door. She glanced at her watch—she was twenty-three seconds ahead of schedule—then entered the dark room, a little red light by the computers it’s only illumination. According to Archer, Bannon only did one mass delivery per month, and he had the same small skeleton crew to handle it. He was far too greedy to hire the amount of people needed, wanting to hoard the majority of the money for himself, instead of paying employees.
She was looking for the ponderosa—the information she’d seen about him so long ago. His sinking ship. Putting on her night-vision glasses, she made her way through a maze of medical supplies, stacked boxes and bins, making mental notes as she snapped picture after picture. She slipped a special device against one of the baseboards. Placing her camera down atop one of the boxes, she began to take video, lifting lids with gloved hands and revealing a treasure trove of illegal alcohol. She did this several more times, finding boxes upon boxes of cigarette cartons, too. The room was filled with alcohol and cartons of rollups. She took a few quick photos of paperwork taped to some of the boxes, too.
If I go over here, in ten steps, there should be the entrance to the hidden room. She counted her paces. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… She made it to a large steel door, with a digital lock on it as well. Reaching into the front of her bag, she pulled out a digital card that bypassed this particular door and pressed it up against it. Nothing. She tried again. It glowed bright red, but didn’t unlock.
Shit! Come on!
She tried a third time and suddenly, it began to do a countdown. Red, digital numbers began marching across the digital screen.
No, no, no, no!
Her heart folded in on itself. A fast heat overcame her. Grabbing her phone, she called Archer.
In a loud whisper, she confessed her dilemma. “Peach! Codeword, Peach! I’m downstairs trying to get into the back room. The second door won’t open. It’s now counting down like somethin’ is about to explode!”
“Calm down… deep breath. That’s a signal for an alarm. As long as it doesn’t get to the number ninety-nine, we’re okay. What number is it on?”
“16…Now 17.”
“What does the panel look like?”
“It’s just a card reader, like you said.”
“Does it have any words or numbers on it?’
She looked closely. “Yes. It says, F6d.”
“Okay, that’s a new panel. You don’t have the right key to that.”
“Fuck! Do I have to abort?”