Alex Bobl - Memoria

Behind him, dozens of combat boots clattered down the steps.

Barney entered Binelli’s reception first and headed straight for his office. Frank followed, the hefty attaché case in hand. Maggie blocked the doors and took her usual place.

“Put it down here,” Barney pointed as he walked around a wide desk.

Frank put the attaché case down next to the monitor and walked to the wall-to-wall window. The sidewalks below swarmed with people. From the height of the seventieth floor they did look like bugs. Police lined the street. Mounted patrols hovered in side lanes.

A black helicopter with an orange flower on its side whirred low over the neighboring roofs. For a moment, the drone of its engines penetrated the office, then diminished as the chopper banked to one side, changing direction, and headed to the west in a wide semi-circle.

Frank thought he’d made out the figures of armed men, clad in black, sitting in the open cargo bay. But for the distance and speed, he couldn’t see their heads therefore couldn’t tell if they were the same as those who’d attacked the police station and the post office.

Frank described the scene to Barney. He didn’t answer, busy mounting the portable camera on a tripod next to the monitor. He then pulled out a few leads, attaching them to an accumulator in the open attaché case. Turning the monitor to the camera, he reached inside the attaché case again.

He produced a plastic box very much like those ancient bulky calculators. Barney then took out a shiny spike and screwed it into a socket on the front side of the device. He clamped to it a small antenna-like wire frame and pressed a key on the side of the device. An LCD display lit up, a strip of greenish light.

Slowly, the veteran moved the antenna over the desk, watching the device’s readings. When his hand passed over the intercom, Barney froze, then removed the phone’s receiver and brought the antenna close to it. Apparently unhappy with the result, he moved the wire scanner over the intercom and sat on the chair. The black blade of an army knife glinted in his hand. Barney used it to break the intercom’s case and bashed the handle hard against the circuit board smashing microchips. Then he raised the scanner and slowly went along the walls, inspecting the office.

“There must be a camera here somewhere,” he said quietly.

“Can I help you?” Frank looked around the room.

“You can. Just keep an eye on the street, will you?” Barney finished the check and came back to the desk. “Maggie, we start!”

Frank turned to the window. He watched Barney’s reflection pull out the keyboard drawer and tap away with his strong chubby fingers like a certified typist clerk. Frank didn’t realize the man was capable of such things. Then Barney leaned back in his chair and looked down, feeling the underside of the desktop.

Something snapped. Part of the desk next to the monitor clicked open. Frank couldn’t help it. He turned for a look.

Barney reached into a side pocket for the hard disk, then placed it vertically into a slot showing under the opened desk panel. He stretched his fingers, blew at his palms and placed them back onto the keyboard. Tapping the keys, he entered a long sequence of letters and digits.

“Maggie? The password request submitted!” he turned the camera on and peered into the monitor.

Frank caught his breath. He loosened his tie and was about to undo the collar when he heard,

“There!” Barney breathed out.

In the reception, the phone rang.

Frank jumped, concealing his shock behind a nervous smile. The phone rang too loud, almost like the wail of a fire tender.

“Cool down,” Barney glanced at the doorway. “Face the window and don’t turn around.”

Frank obeyed. He stood still staring into the window when Maggie said in a practiced voice,

“Mr. Binelli’s reception, how can I help you?”

Outside, nothing had changed. Onlookers crowded the sidewalk lined with police.

“I’m afraid, Mr. Binelli’s busy at the moment,” Maggie said in the reception, and, a moment later, “But you can’t-” She fell silent.

“Don’t move,” Barney told him. “Maggie? How much time do we have?”

“One to three minutes. I’ve disconnected the intercom and cut the wires.”

“Shame,” Barney sighed. “We won’t make it to the front door. Frank — plan B!”

He rose from his seat and strode into the reception putting on a pair of leather gloves. Maggie ran out toward him. Frank leapt toward the desk. On the monitor, the decrypted text had been replaced by charts and diagrams. Frank turned away from a scheme that appeared on the screen. He grabbed the attaché case, opened it and took out a few spools of cord thin as a fishing line. He picked up two rubberized tubes with rollers on each end and went back to the window. He knelt, as did Maggie next to him. She held a nail gun.

They turned to a dragging sound behind their backs. Barney in reception was moving furniture barricading the entrance. Frank took a spool and snapped open steel plates on each side. Each plate had four holes in it. Frank pressed the roll to the floor, and Maggie nailed first the right plate to the floor with the nail gun, then the left one. The spool was now firmly attached to the floor.

They moved aside and did the same with the other spool, then placed the rubberized tubes on the low window sill. Frank released the springs on the spools and fed the line through the rollers.

“We’re done!” Maggie called out to her father.

Barney reappeared in the office. He threw the coat aside and raised an assault rifle with a silencer that had been hanging under his arm.

“Step back!” he snapped.

Frank grabbed Maggie’s hand and pulled her to the wall. The bolt chattered. The rifle thudded out a long burst. Shattered glass mixed with spent shells cascaded to their feet. A gust of cold wind burst into the room tearing the curtains.

“Clip on to the line,” Barney stepped to the desk and leaned across it looking into the monitor.

Under their jackets, Frank and Maggie had parachute-type harnesses, the straps coming together just under the solar plexus. One after the other, they clipped themselves onto the line. They stepped to the open window and used Barney’s clever method to remove their electronic bracelets. The girl pressed the nail gun to her chest and glanced down. The nail gun’s leash wrapped around her wrist. Frank watched Barney who’d turned off the camera and forced the hard disk free. He disconnected the camera and the tripod and threw the parts into the attaché case, snapping its lid shut. Then Barney jumped off the desk and headed for the window holding the rifle barrel aloft.

The second spool was meant for him. Barney alone weighed more than Frank and Maggie together, so they had decided to use two rappelling devices instead of the one originally suggested by Max.

Barney hadn’t made it to his spool. A blast shattered the reception room. The door flew off its hinges. The heavy filing cabinet barricading it leaned and exploded producing a fountain of paperwork. Clouds of smoke belched into the office. Maggie screamed and ducked in, covering her head. Barney slid the attaché case along the floor toward Frank, turned around and fell onto one knee. At that moment, the massive filing cabinet toppled onto the floor under powerful kicks from outside.

The first of the attackers fell full length onto the floor under Barney’s bullets. Another one followed him into the reception. In the smoke, return shots flashed over his shoulder. Barney snarled, lowered the barrel a little and peppered his attacker with bullet holes. The attacker stumbled, dropped his weapon and collapsed head first onto the capsized filing cabinet.