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SUZANNE HAD ALREADY exited her Land Rover and placed her bag of goodies outside the window of Lucas Collins’ office at Lexi Corp. She knew she could use it since it was being remodeled. Still dressed in her usual HR girly clothes she passed by the security guards Mitchell and Roger with no problem. As she smiled and gave a little wave to them, she figured she might as well eliminate some of the deadwood behind the security desk on her way out to as a precautionary measure. Best get rid of any witnesses to her odd arrival time at Lexi Corp.
Mitchell and Roger were known company-wide as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum due to their nearly identical personalities, body type and matching double digit IQ’s. Talking to either one or both guards felt like talking to a pair of inquisitive spaniels that had just completed a trick and were now awaiting a treat. Mitchell and Roger had shaved heads, were long distance runners and loved to tell anyone and everyone in pronounced detail about their training schedules and calorie intake down to the latest energy bar they had just consumed. They were also obsessed with firearms and frequently traded or bought new weapons. This made for extremely quick moving security lines at Lexi Corp. as no one wanted to stick around for their never-ending chit-chat.
The majority of Lexi personnel, including even the most senior, had to resort to slyly check Mitchell and Roger’s name tapes to tell them apart. They sort of blended together into one’s mind and then thankfully disappeared altogether shortly after you encountered them. Staying with you mentally about as long as a reaction to a burst of pepper. A short sneeze and they were forgotten.
Suzanne was trying to locate Danny and Kevin, but every time she looked at her smartphone to view the camera feed it stayed the same; the morons were nowhere to be found. This bothered her considerably, but she didn’t have time to figure out where Dumb and Dumber were right now. She just needed their results.
Suzanne entered Lucas Collins’s office, which was not only being remodeled, but useful for many reasons. It was in an out of the way corner of the building and didn’t have a lot of foot traffic. From time to time, Suzanne would slip in and use Lucas’s computer to download information from time to time. As head of advertising, Collins was never in his office, instead spending his days out, schmoozing potential clients. Despite spending maybe five hours a week in it, he was having the office remodeled.
“No wonder companies are going broke. They waste money on things like this and perks for executives instead spending it on the people that do actual work, or on better security. Idiots.”
Suzanne grumbled and grabbed her bag of explosives (Composition 4 commonly known as C4) and, weapons, and headed for the lower level to print out the results from the NMR. Just as she was exiting the elevator by the break room, Kevin and Danny exited the NMR lab and headed down the hallway toward the VIP exit.
Suzanne used Conner’s ID to gain access to the lab where Danny and Kevin worked. She dropped off her bag in the lab and entered the NMR room. Bypassing the accesses codes to the washing machine, she hit “print” for the last several jobs that day. She was rewarded with self-testing and calibrating results from the previous 12 hours. She stared at the results for several seconds, then slowly crumpled the printout in her hand and let it fall to the ground.
“Fucking bastards. They couldn’t be that smart to cover their tracks.”
“Bastards” echoed and re-echoed in the washing machine’s chamber followed by the sound of dripping. Suzanne looked for the source of the dripping sound and discovered she had driven her nails deep into her palm. Blood ran down her palm, and onto the test results that had fallen on the floor. She looked at the blood trickling onto the floor, and the half-moon cuts in her palms, snorted, giggled, and started chanting, “C-4, C-4, give me a C give me a four and what do you have? You have ceeee fooour...”
She re-entered the lab, stripped off her girly clothes and armored up. She put on her bulletproof vest, BDUs, holstered her Glock 21 .45 caliber with silencer, slipped her baby Glock .380 into her boot, and started planting the C4 while softly chanting to herself.
The dynamic duo were now on their way back to the lab.
Suzanne’s chanting had lost its effect of calming her down, and all pretense of poise and serenity during what should have been the highlight of her assignment vanished. She began tearing open locked desks and drawers, not caring about making this look like an accidental lab explosion. She was pissed. “Damned the consequences. I’ll take the entire fucking building down,” she muttered to herself while tossing files and laptops out of cabinets. “There must be notes, emails, encrypted files, something, damn it!”
There wasn’t, so Suzanne started to review the video footage on her iPad of Danny and Kevin making the formula. She had tried to reconstruct the formula’s ingredients in the lab and its contents from the video footage and thought she had most of the elements. Most of them were in different colored vials and jars, and were easy to find. But she had no idea of the amounts. She just stared at the video of Danny and Kevin tossing in ingredients in what appeared to be a random amount and sequence. She found all the jars except for the small vial Kensington had with the orange and black markings.
Orange and black? Those marking don’t make any sense. What the fuck are they up to. Was this a decoy formula in case someone was watching?”
Suzanne muttered to herself as she tried to recreate the formula. She would pause and rewind and pause the video, again and again, all the time grumbling, “I will kill them, I will kill them.” Pointing to Danny or Kevin on the monitor, she’d add, “You are dead.”
After replicating the formula or at least coming as close as what she could ascertain from the video, Suzanne put a sample into a vial. She was readying to slip it into the washing machine to analyze it when she heard a horribly familiar voice.
“Hey, Suzy, I didn’t know you knew chemistry? Excellent brownies you made the other day” chirped Danny to Suzanne’s back.
“You! It’s one of you motherfucking idiots!” Suzanne shouted as she whirled around and fired off a round in the direction of Danny’s voice.
Unfortunately for Suzanne, Kevin entered the lab just before Suzanne fired and tripped over her bag. With arms flailing, he crashed into a wheeled stool, sending it rolling into Suzanne, causing her shot to go wild and her to go even wilder.
“Motherfuckers!” she screamed into Kevin’s face as she scrambled to get to her feet.
Trying to help Suzanne to her feet while dusting himself off at the same time, Kevin managed only to push Suzanne to the ground again. As she fell, she dropped her gun and it slid across the floor. Kevin noticed, the gun traveling across the floor, realized a shot had just been fired and that Suzanne had been responsible for that shot.
Danny was frozen to the spot, not from being shot at but from the shock at having heard the happy homemaker scream, “Motherfucker!” “I said your brownies were excellent,” he said softly.
“Run, you idiot!” yelled Kevin, trying to grab Danny’s arm and propel him into some sort of motion. But Danny was still mesmerized by “motherfucker” coming from Suzanne’s mouth. Despite his efforts, Kevin only managed to trip over that damn bag again. “Damn it!” he shouted, crashing to the ground again just as another round passed over his head.
Suzanne had grabbed the second gun out of her ankle holster and fired at where Kevin’s head had been a millisecond before he crashed to the floor. She quickly adjusted her aim and shot again in the Kevin’s direction, but he’d been busy scuttling along the floor and trying to get to his feet.
“Danny, a little help!”
Danny, who’d been watching the action as though it was happening on TV, remained completely immobilized.
Kevin had seen his friend in crisis before and knew he needed a little motivation, which meant, a smack in the head. While Kevin hid behind a lab counter as bullets continued to fly his way, he decided to motivate Danny who was behind a pillar and for now safely out of Suzanne's line of fire. Kevin grabbed some nearby items and hurled them toward Danny. A beaker of what Kevin hoped was water or something non-toxic struck Danny squarely in the head. As Danny started to come alive, he ran toward Kevin but slipped in a broken vial of moisturizing cream Kevin had just thrown as a motivating missile, and landed in a heap on the floor. Slowing getting up, Danny attempted to regain his balance but given his shoes were still slimy with moisturizer, he tap danced wildly in place for several seconds before grabbing madly at the lab counter. While clutching at it, he swept a microscope onto Suzanne’s hand and fell back onto the floor. Suzanne, who’d been balancing with one hand and firing with the other, ended up shooting into the ceiling and swearing.
“Oh, crap!” screeched Danny. “That’s my favorite microscope.”
As usual, Danny had lost perspective of the larger picture and attempted to go back and retrieve his favorite microscope while trying to process why Suzanne was so angry at him for complimenting her brownies. “Oh, God! They weren’t your brownies. They were someone else’s!” cried Danny as he popped up behind a lab counter Meerkat-like. “And they weren’t homemade they were from a mix, and you are pissed because no one should ever confuse a mix from your home-made brownies. I am so very sorry, Suzanne.”
Suzanne was so stunned by this incredible outburst of inanity that she froze, which gave Kevin time to smack Danny in the face as hard as possible, and then drag him out of the room toward the hallway and VIP elevators.
“What the hell did you do that for? I was trying to apologize,” Danny muttered
“For someone who is a near genius in your field you can be a complete ass sometimes. Come on, run! We have to alert the Tweedles.”
“So Suzanne wasn’t mad about the brownie comment?”
“No, I don’t think she cares one way or the other about your opinion on her baking or anything else. Hurry up. I’m pretty sure she’s a professional at what she does.”
“Right, that’s what I was thinking, I’m up to speed now, and I just got rattled by the gunfire. That’s all. So, she’s a professional cosmetician?”
“Sure, all the best cosmetician’s carry a full arsenal with them at all times. No don’t take the elevator it will take too long. We’ll take the stairs. I think I hear her coming,” panted Kevin.
“Oh my God I forgot how far down we were. I’ll never make it,” wheezed Danny.
“Jesus, Danny we are only down one flight,” gasped Kevin as he grabbed hold of the railing at the top of the landing. Unfortunately, his forward momentum slammed him into the wall face first. “We’re almost at the front doors. Start screaming for the Tweedles.”
Kevin and Danny had made it to the lobby by the VIP elevators. But winded from the sprint down the hall and up the stairs, they could only utter short, static words.
“Crazy, gun, crazy lady, gun, help, help.”
Danny didn’t help clarify matters by shouting “crazy cosmetician!”
The information desk near the front lobby doors was supposed to be manned by either Mitchell or Roger or one of the other floating security guards. A security desk behind the scanners near the elevators was also manned during working hours, and two hours before and after working hours for early birds and stragglers. This desk was adjacent to the office in which the video surveillance system was kept. At the time of Danny and Kevin’s race down the hallway, Mitchell and Roger were engrossed in Sku Yu’s newest takeout menu at the security desk. A menu such as this would usually occupy them for several hours, and they were now happily engrossed in this latest offering with all new color photos.
When Kevin and Danny’s shouting came into range, Mitchell heard “crazy gun,” thought it was a new item on the menu he had somehow missed, and was furiously looking for it. Roger was slightly quicker and turned toward the sound of the shouting.
Suzanne had chosen to run toward the break room exit and, being in much better shape, arrived in the lobby several seconds ahead of Danny and Kevin. She had positioned herself behind the Tweedles’ guard desk furthest away from the security office. Suzanne knew she could use it for cover, take out the idiots, then gain access to the security office and erase all her movements in the building. She didn’t even really think about the Tweedles as being a problem, but rather as a couple of potted plants to move out of the way as she exited the building.
The potted plants were behind the security desk in-between the main grouping of elevators and the body scanning and x-ray machines. They were at the far end of their workstation closest to the security office while Suzanne was at the opposite end. Roger and Mitchell had not noticed Suzanne’s arrival. They barely registered Kevin and Danny’s noisy entrance.
Roger now turned and saw two sweaty men running toward the security desk shouting something about “guns.” He nudged Mitchell. “Hey Mitch, Danny wants to ask you about your new Taurus.”
“Really? It’s so cool, Danny,” replied Mitchell whose eyes never left the takeout menu. “It’s a .45 caliber model 24/7 G2 in blue finish.” As Mitchell recited this, he took the gun, out of his holster to show to Danny.
Suzanne hadn’t been paying any attention to Mitchell and Roger’s conversation. She concentrated on Danny and Kevin’s movements until she saw Mitchell take his weapon out of his holster. Then purely out of reflex, she swiveled toward Mitchell, taking her eyes off her initial targets.
Mitchell and Roger saw Suzanne’s movement and greeted her warmly since she had been food bribing them for years.
“Hey Suzanne, want anything from Sku Yu’s?” Roger held the takeout menu with two fingers, waggling it back and forth at Suzanne. “They took over Tasty Wang’s and have doubled their selection.”
In response, Suzanne fired two rounds each into both Roger and Mitchell’s chests.
“Morons,” she muttered, and then crouched down and crab-walked to the front of the desk, concealing herself from Danny and Kevin.
Roger looked at the takeout menu and noticed two holes that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. He turned toward Mitchell who had an equally surprised look on his face. They stood perfectly still for a millisecond, then fell toward each other, cracking heads as they collided, and then crumpling to the floor in an ungracious heap.
“Hmm, I would’ve thought there would have been more of an echo when those two melons collided,” Suzanne muttered to herself. “Oh well, back to business. Two down, two to go.”
Danny and Kevin saw the shooting of the Tweedles, screamed, tried to apply the brakes and change direction all at the same time. Danny grabbed Kevin’s arm and attempted to pull him back toward the elevators, while Kevin tried to pull Danny toward the security office. They only succeed in twirling each other around dosey doe style.
Danny and Kevin heard more gunfire near them, but couldn’t ascertain the direction of the shots as they both had their eyes squeezed shut.
“Are you hit? Am I hit? Who got hit?” asked Danny. Each question increased in volume and franticness until he was screaming into Kevin’s ear.
“I don’t know. I can’t see.”
“Why can’t you see? Did you get shot in the eye?”
“I can’t see because I have my eyes closed like you, you nit.”
“Oh. How do you know I have my eyes closed?”
“If you had your eyes open, you would see that I have my eyes closed!”
“Ahh yes, that makes sense.”
“Danny, Kevin come over to our desk, and use it for cover.”
“Who are you and what desk?” asked Kevin.”
“It’s Mitchell, come over here behind the security desk.”
“I saw Mitchell get shot. You can’t be Mitchell. It’s a trick.”
“Very good, Kevin” complimented Danny. “I never would have thought of that. I wonder how Suzanne can sound so much like Mitchell.”
“Open your eyes guys, it is us. We are wearing Second Chance vests. We just got them and have been trying them out this last week. I didn’t think being hit would hurt that much. I’m gonna be sore for a week.”
Danny and Kevin screwed up their courage and slowly opened their eyes and see Mitchell and Roger motioning them to come over to their desk.
The desk was crescent-shaped with two computer monitors and various sign-in sheets; it could hold four people relatively comfortably upright or two lying down.
The only concealment that was available to Danny and Kevin, which they were currently using, was a directory board several yards away from the security desk.
“If we leave our spot, she’ll gun us down!” wailed Danny.
“Do a belly crawl,” whisper-shouted Roger.
Danny and Kevin were no strangers to the concept of the belly crawl as they looked forward to Monday mornings for one reason and one reason only. The floors of their lab were waxed on Sunday night, so on Monday mornings they’d have belly races on pieces of cardboard. (Kevin would bring in his own sanitized carton so not to muss up his clothing.)
“Belly racing,” they said in unison momentarily forgetting the danger they were in.
They took several steps back, ran a few feet and slid on their bellies, advancing only four measly feet. Apparently the lobby floor hadn’t been waxed in quite a while.
“Son of a bitch, mother fucker!” shouted Danny. He immediately realized he should use his inside voice at this crucial moment and mouthed “Sorry” to Kevin. He then began breast stroking his way across the floor to the security desk.
Kevin, who realized he was getting his clothes dirty, squat walked his way over to the desk.
While Kevin and Danny were attempting the arduous challenge of moving 25 yards to the security desk, Mitchell and Roger had unleashed the rest of their arsenal.
Kevin had always assumed that the many cabinets behind the security desk held reports and other security-related paperwork. He’d never wondered why the cabinets were locked. Those doors were now open when Keven reached the desk area. Taking in the sea of weaponry, Kevin spluttered, “My God, it looks like the NRA threw up in here.”
Mitchell and Roger were holding what looked like riot shields and had put on helmets with visors that covered their faces. With their free hands, they were firing shot after shot toward the decorative planters between the security desk and bank of elevators.
“We’ve got her on the run now!” shouted Roger as he threw what appeared to be a flat large metal spider toward the elevator bank. The spider winged its way past the potted plants and embedded itself above the up button on the wall between the elevators.
“Throwing star? You have a throwing star?” shouted Mitchell to Roger while simultaneously cracking him on the side of his helmet.
“Yes, that does seem a bit much,” laughed Danny.
“Where in the hell did you get that type of throwing star? I’ve been looking everywhere for the ones with the five blades. Why didn’t you tell me?’
“Over the internet, Bob’s Big Barn of Defense.com. They have everything. The reason I didn’t tell you about the throwing stars is.”
“Stars? You have more than one?”
“Oh yes, they sell them in sets of three and six. I purchased a few dozen assorted. The reason I didn’t tell you is that I was going to split them with you next week on your birthday.”
“OHHHH....” Danny and Kevin said as they looked at each other.
“Isn’t that nice. Why don’t you ever get me anything usable like that on my birthday?” Danny asked Kevin.
“Oh for Christ’s sake, this is not the time or place for birthday analysis,” whispered Kevin.
“Oh, sure, it’s never the time or place. Wait, that sounded a little weird. What are those?” Danny asked as he pointing at an object that Mitchell was lovingly holding.
“This, my friend, is a flash bang. It also goes by the name of a stun grenade.”
“It looks like a small bug zapper” commented Danny.
“Well it would certainly ruin any bug’s day that happened to come into contact with it, that’s for sure!” laughed Mitchell.
Roger looked at Mitchell and said, “On the count of three, I do the West side you do the East, and we’ll drive her back.”
“One, two,” they chimed, and at “two” they high fived each other. When the Tweedles got to three, they threw their respective flash-bangs.
“So what is a flash-bang exact”
Danny was cut off by a blinding flash, followed by an even bigger bang, followed by another bang and flash. “Oh, it’s self- explanatory. Did I say that out loud? I can’t hear myself. Test, test, testing. Oh crap, I’m deaf.”
While Danny was counting and snapping his fingers by his ears, the Tweedles were chest bumping and whooping with joy. Of course, no one in the vicinity could hear their delight since all were now equally deaf.