John Krygelski - The Aegis Solution

“You built this?” Tillie asked excitedly.

“Well, I’m the general contractor. All of my crews built it.”

“Wow! I knew there was something about you. My dad was a contractor.” Tillie’s eyes sparkled briefly with excitement.

Matt suddenly felt uncomfortable. The Fed’s words about a possible attachment came back to him clearly. Trying to shift the subject, he said, “I guess you want to know what I think about this place…about the concept.”

Her face still flushed with residual emotion, Tillie nodded.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve had almost two years to think about it. My wife and I have talked about it a lot. But I still don’t know.”

He paused, hoping she would speak, but she remained silent, waiting.

“I understand why Walker did it. That’s for sure. If I lost my daughter, I don’t know how I’d react, especially if I were the President. But when I start thinking beyond the day a person shows up at the front door… when I focus on what it is that he or she is actually committing to… it just seems beyond the pale.”

Tillie’s eyebrows arched with curiosity. “Beyond the pale? I’ve read that phrase before, but I’ve never known what it means.”

Matt Clements smiled, glad the conversation had assumed a more mundane course. “It’s an Old English phrase.”

“Yeah, I guessed that.”

Continuing, he explained, “The king would send out his men to delineate the boundary of the kingdom…the outer edge of his domain and influence. They carried casks of water with them, and as they used up the water, they broke down the wooden casks and used the stakes from each one to mark the line. The stakes were also called pales. So if someone was venturing outside the boundary of what was considered to be the civilized world, it was said that the person was going beyond the pale.”

“Cool!” she exclaimed. “That is awesome.”

As they were speaking, the four marshals passed them, and Matt could not help but notice the meaningful stare from the lead man. Ignoring it, he said to Tillie, “So I guess this whole thing, checking in at this place, feels like that to me.”

Her enjoyment from a moment ago was gone. Her face, as well as her entire body language, reverted back to a mode he could only describe as resignation. Picking up a pebble, Tillie tossed it across the concrete walkway and stared into the distance. He kept quiet, allowing her the time to think, hoping she would come to the right decision for her, whatever that might be.

As they sat in silence, Matt observed one of the men turn the key that actuated the hydraulic pump, closing the massive steel entrance. The symbolism evoked of a vault or tomb being sealed, as the portal thumped into its frame, did not escape him. He could only speculate about the psychological effect it had on Tillie, as her face remained impassive.

The officer he had spoken with earlier then opened the access to what would be the permanent entrance, the one that would be used from today forward. Considering what went into the rest of the facility, the entrance was amazingly low-tech. It was basically a series of modified subway turnstiles which allowed entrance but not exit, altered only to strengthen and fortify the components to deter tampering. One of those modifications was adding a redundant system to ensure that each turnstile could only rotate in one direction. In addition to the usual clutch mechanism, a heavy-toothed rachet module was attached to the bottom of the shaft, buried under the concrete of the floor. This served to create a loud clack-clack-clack as the person walked through, adding, in Matt’s opinion, an additional sinister feel to the process.

Tillie suddenly sighed, and Matt snapped his attention back to her, eager to hear her decision and dreading it at the same time.

She wiped her hands on her jeans and stood. He stood also and continued to wait for her to break the silence.

She stepped closer to him. It was too close, he thought, feeling a twinge of nervousness. It was the kind of proximity between him and a female that would bring an instant reaction from Lisa, if she were here. Despite his tenseness he did not take a step back, but continued to wait.

Her aqua eyes stared intently into his and, in the bright sunlight, he could see an additional shimmer on their surface. She blinked rapidly several times, and the shimmer went away.

“I guess…. I guess I’d better get in there. I bet you want to get home.”

Matt did not know if he was relieved or saddened by her choice. He was startled when his voice broke as he said, “Are you sure?”

Not trusting her own voice, she simply nodded.

Finally, drawing a ragged breath, Tillie asked, “Can I ask a favor?”

Uncertain what to expect, he tentatively replied, “Sure.”

Her facial muscles tightened as if she was holding back a sob. “Before I step in, before I leave this…world, I guess, I feel like I need to say good-bye. To somebody. You know, like I have someone seeing me off.”

As she said this, her eyes widened, conveying the urgency of her request.

“I…,” he began.

Before he could continue, she interrupted, the words rushing out of her. “My mother doesn’t give a damn about me. Hasn’t for years. I don’t even have a father. No one.”

The pathos of the picture she painted struck him more powerfully than he anticipated, and he was speechless. Unable to find words, he only nodded.

No sooner had Matt indicated his assent than she stepped toward him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, her frail body shuddering with the release of the pent-up emotions. Instinctively, he put his arms around her and let her cry. Over Tillie’s shoulder he saw the lead officer, who had warned him earlier, watching.

They stood locked together like this for minutes until the racking sobs subsided. He loosened his embrace, normally a signal to the other to do the same, but she held him tightly, even pulling him harder against her. He found he was unable to refuse her the solace she was seeking, and reciprocated.

Neither knew how much more time had passed before Tillie finally relaxed, her arms dropping from around his neck. They stepped apart, and as Matt looked at her, he saw something that was not there before, although he was unsure what it was.

“Thanks,” she murmured, a feeble attempt at a smile causing the deep dimples to reappear on her cheeks.

He smiled back and said, “Thank you.”

With a faint look of surprise, she asked, “For what?”

His smile broadening, he answered, “For picking me, I guess.”

“I don’t understand. All I did was lay my trip on you.”

Chuckling, he reacted, “Lay a trip! I haven’t heard that phrase in a long time.”

She joined him in the laugh. “I like old sayings.”

“Well, you didn’t lay any trip on me. You picked me to connect with. I am glad to meet you, Mathilda.”

She took his hand and shook it, the simple motion conveying her sense of the irony of his words. “Yeah, glad to meet you too, Matthias. Wish we had met a long time ago.”

The implication of her comment clear to him, he chose not to acknowledge the message and only said, “Same here.”

Tillie looked as if she would say something more. Instead, she shrugged her thin shoulders and tilted her head toward the entrance.

“Well,” she began in a voice with a forced tone of normalcy, “I’d better get in there.”

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

They turned together, when suddenly he exclaimed, “Dammit!”

Tillie stopped. “What’s wrong?”

He started to answer but, before he spoke, noticed that the marshal was still hovering nearby. He leaned closer to her and whispered something in her ear.