Harlequin

Suddenly, in the dark of the closet, the phone rang again. Scrambling and nearly dropping the note, Jeff seized it and answered.



"What the hell is this shit? Let me out of here! Let me out."



On the other end of the line, Harlequin winced. "Stop talking. You can get out if you want. Didn\'t you read the damn note? If you just do as you\'re told--"



"You\'re asking me to kill a woman!"



"So? Does her life mean more to you than yours?"



"Of--" Jeff stopped. He had wanted to say, "Of course not," but that sounded too cold. Much too callous. Instead, he finished, rather lamely, "I--I don\'t know."



"You need to figure it out soon. She\'s on the move. If you\'re not careful, she\'ll escape before you find her."



"Okay. Okay." I can\'t believe I\'m doing this. "Where is, uh, whatever it is you were talking about, in the closet?"



"Look down."



Still holding the phone to his ear, Jeff looked at the ground. On the floor, a knife rested next to the floor cleaners and mops. He knelt to pick it up and found that his hands were shaking. "Okay. I have it. Where do I go?"



"That is up to you." The phone clicked off.



A knife. He had to kill a woman with a knife. Not even shoot, and look away. Not that he\'d ever used a gun. I\'d probably kill myself first, he thought, feeling grim.



He pushed the door of the closet open and stared out at an abandoned waiting room. Old magazines littered the floor like dead leaves; a few faded pictures decorated the walls, buried in dust. The afternoon light shimmered on the floor; it was the only illumination in the room. By the time the evening arrived, there would be no light--he would be searching blind.



Jeff ventured out through the waiting room to the stairwell, and, presumably, to wherever his potential victim had been placed. There was dead silence in the room. Cameras everywhere. This facility was huge. How could he find some other woman wandering about? When the light went down, it would be impossible.



I can\'t do this. I can not do this.



An unfamiliarly intense wave of fear washed over him. He was not up to this task. But if he was not up to this task, he would die.



On the other hand, the debtors might leave him alone if they couldn\'t find him.



-------------



Meagan stood at the bottom of the north staircase, staring at a sign in front of the doors, holding a flashlight she had found on the first step of the stairs in one hand, and the phone she had used to talk to Harlequin on the other. It still had two bars--a good battery.



She pressed the button labeled \'1\' and waited for him to pick up.



Harlequin nearly dropped the gun he was cleaning and answered the phone. "Feeling a little nervous? Your first call for help?"



"Mmmm, not really help. Just a question, I guess, about your note."



"Ah...a question?" Harlequin paused and looked down at the monitor. What is she looking at? I didn\'t put anything interesting there. "All right. Ask."



"You said I have to escape the facility in order to, er, win your game. Is that right?"



"Yes, that\'s right." A creeping feeling of unease overtook him. Harlequin stared down at the gun in his lap as he waited for the next question.



"Which means that I have to get out of the building. Right?"



"Of course." He frowned.



"That\'s all I wanted to know. I\'m standing here looking at a sign that says Roof Access. The rooftop is outside, isn\'t it? I don\'t have to find the exit--I win!" For a second, he heard maniacal giggling, and then the line went dead.



Roof access. She would win, technically, and he would allow her that, but she couldn\'t actually leave the facility without his help, if she went to the roof. Maybe that was the point. She wanted to find him. Why would she want that? Who would want to meet--him?