Page 42 of All Saints Day
Quentin and I will enter the facility with Compton in plain sight, dressed as security personnel. Compton will be wired with a very large amount of explosives on a deadman switch controlled by Seb and Caz, who will be supporting the breach from the safety of the van, with plenty of additional explosives at the ready of course.
Compton will help us make the grab, lest we blow him to bits.
Once Louise has been removed from the premises, we will vacate, while Compton makes his planned rendezvous withLowry—keeping her and the rest of the higher-ups none the wiser as we make our exit.
As long as he plays his part, we’ll leave Compton in one piece. Once we’ve gotten clear of the Country Estate—he’ll be at the mercy of the Windmill.
We stop at a drugstore in the wee hours of the morning for shitty coffee and a few cans of aerosol “just for men” temporary hair color.
The powdery black ‘dye’ was enough to take away the eye-catching copper brown of Q’s coif along with the distinctive strawberry blond of my own hair. While it might not have withstood much scrutiny on its own, in combination with the uniform-gray brimmed ball cap of Windmill security and the nondescript Kevlar vest and canvas jumpsuit, it offered almost perfect anonymity.
We provided Compton with one of his own clean, pressed suits—complete with shirt and tie—so he wouldn’t draw too much attention.
Quentin had been forced to gently dab concealer and foundation over Compton’s nose and beneath his eyes to cover the deep purple bruising Seb had caused. He carefully dusted finishing powder over Compton’s bulbous nose and stood back—pleased with handiwork.
“Well, I’d hardly say it's my ‘best’ work—but anyone watching a security camera shouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”
I pulled the brim of my cap down low over my eyes—wanting to be in motion rather than stuck in this game of waiting.
“You remember the basics, yeah?” Seb chimes in as we approach the cutaway for the service entrance to the so-called Country Estate. “You’re going to behave, keep it cool, calm, and collected on your way in. No funny business, straight to Louise’s chambers—then back out to the service exit,” Seb explains carefully, reaching out one of his big beefy hands into the space between him and Compton. “The slightestwhiff that you’re gonna be a problem? The boys break your kneecaps and make a run for it—and Cazzy and I blow you sky high.” He slaps his meaty palm over Compton’s chest, the layer of plastic explosives beneath his suit jacket and button down.
Compton does his best to play tough, jutting his lower jaw out and giving a curt nod—but his skin is ashen and he’s gently perspiring even though the AC in the car is cranked.
“If you do as you’re told, we let you live and we leave you with a couple pounds of explosives as your bargaining chip.”
“I feel like I’m gonna puke,” Caz groans as we pull into a marked spot between a laundry van and a Polar Springs delivery truck.
“Just don’t blow Compton up while we’re escorting him, and we’ll be fine.” Quentin pecks a kiss onto Caz’s cheek before he swings the door open—jumping down to the pavement, motioning for Compton and I to follow.
We walk through the front doors of the Estate with little fanfare. The two white-gloved doormen at the entrance don’t bother giving Q or I a second glance, and they obviously know Compton.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Compton,” the housemaid greets us as we move from the entryway into the Mansion’s great rotunda.
“Good afternoon, Martha. Susan is expecting me for tea—would you mind opening up the curtains and airing out my salon?” he asks calmly, a hand resting tremulously on his green satin tie, enough explosives to take down this entire building just beneath his palm and a few layers of fabric.
“Very good, Mr. Compton.” She nods and disappears from sight. Q and I glide easily behind Compton as he leads us toward the west wing—where Louise is being held.
My heart hammers in my chest, the automatic rifle slung across my chest like a welcome security blanket as we follow Compton to the scanner pad beside a set of heavy metal double doors.
I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until I hear small beeping sounds from the clear scanner pad beneath Compton’s outstretched hand—my breath leaves me in a slow hissing gust.
Part of me had been waiting for some kind of silent alarm—a way that Compton could alert his colleagues to foul play as we entered the inner sanctum of the notorious Windmill. If I’m honest, I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop—we still have the retinal scan and the actual breakout to manage before any of us can truly breathe easy.
We make our way down a short length of hallway before we reach another, more sinister set of reinforced white metal doors that stand out from the dark wood and lush carpeting of the connecting hallway.
Wordlessly, Compton stoops to bring his face level with the brushed metal and glass scanner box beside the door.
“Please remain still,” a computerized woman’s voice instructs before clarifying: “now scanning.”
Another moment of breathless fear passes before the metallic voice rasps out, “Approved, please enter after the buzzer.”
Compton moves to smooth his tie over his chest—then seems to think better of it; the three of us pass easily through the set of white metal doors into a sterile tiled hallway without windows, and drenched in a cold, blinding white light.
I swallow down my panic, thinking about what it would be like to be held in a place like this—what it’s been like for Louise these past few hellish months.
There are a handful of doors marked with letters and numbers, plastic clipboards with vitals and other information about the captives inside hanging on metal hooks beside the complicated locking mechanisms and keypads. As much as I want to look at them—to see the finer details of those incaptivity that fall beneath Compton’s notice—I stay on track, keeping within a few strides behind Compton alongside Q.
We finally reach the end of the hall, and Compton flashes both Q and I a momentary glance before he stops, keying a short code into a number pad before confirming with a scan of his right thumb and right eye.
