Page 28 of Seth
After a few seconds of struggling, the guard’s back relaxed, his hands dropped, and Seth lowered to his knees to rest the man on the grass. He snatched the radio attached to the guard’s shoulder and shoved it into one of the pockets of his tool belt, then dragged the sleeping man into the bushes nearby.
Trying to blink off the black “flies” invading his vision, he returned to the shield but wavered as his gaze lingered over the rifle lost in the grass. He’d never held a fire weapon before. He didn’t even know how to reload it or remove the safety. Still, he picked it up and threw it over his shoulder.
A stray branch caught his face when he returned to the building he assumed was a server room. With a screwdriver, he disconnected the air conditioners. The low humming died. Seth shrank back into the shadows, hand pushing the tool back into the belt. The servers, overheating, should fail within minutes. He hoped that the records from the security cameras were also stored there. If his hunch didn’t mislead him, whatever happened next wouldn’t be recorded.
Most of the way to the water, he jogged through the bushes and slowed down only to pass the areas observed by CCTV. Entering the blind spot area on the pier, he approached the boat and pulled out two N2O cylinders, strapped together by a Velcro belt. Throwing them over his shoulder, he picked up his backpack and scurried back.
With his back rested against a wide pine tree, he observed the guardhouse. Its architectural plan drifted through his memory. Two rooms, a one-story building with an air conditioning system located on the roof. Metal rolling shutters shielded rare windows. He watched longer, noticing that two cameras had a mistiming. Every minute they created a fifteen second blind spot in the surveillance.
He waited for another minute to reconfirm his calculations, then jogged forward. He propped the shield against the wall with the concave side facing him, stepped onto the grip, and reached up, happy that he’d used the polycarbonate instead of the frail Plexiglass. The shield strained, plowed the ground with the edge, but held his weight.
Pushing a tiny screw into the rotation gear, Seth jammed one camera. He jumped to the ground and shielded up as the second camera turned. Releasing a breath, he counted forty-five seconds before repeating his ministrations with the second camera.
Once again, he propped the shield against the wall, then used the grip as a stepladder to climb the roof. His body was tired, or the weight he carried was too heavy for him as it took him two attempts before he managed to pull up. In the bluish moonlight, he didn’t need a flashlight to disable the air conditioning system and close the airflow on itself. Working quickly, he connected the cylinders to the self-made diffuser. Medical chemistry had never been his strongest subject, so he doubted his idea would work. Still, he connected the laughing gas to his self-made diffuser filled with Halothane, then attached it all to the air circulation system. He could only hope that the anesthetics would be enough to put everyone inside the building to sleep. Otherwise, he would have to learn how to use the rifle and quickly.
He tossed the backpack aside and hung his upper body over the roof. It took him a mere minute to direct the attention of two more cameras away from the door before he slipped to the ground. Catching his breath, he explored the metal door with the electronic lock. The initial thought to wedge the door evaporated as the seams between the jamb and door appeared to be hair-thin. He would have to hammer the wedges to make them stay. Doing so would wake up the whole forest.
Humming his concern, he activated the radio signal jammer, plucked out a tube with instant cold welding liquid, and squirted it into the hinges and seams. He wished he had more time to jam it properly, but the sharp, chemical smell of Halothane was hard to miss.
The architect in him cringed. This kind of manipulation wouldn’t prevent a professional guard from breaking down the door, but he only needed it to withstand a few minutes of an uncoordinated attack. Or that was how long he estimated for the drug to take effect.
He shrugged the rifle off his shoulder, flipped it around examining the construction. He drew a mental projection sketch, explaining the principles of the activating mechanism. His fingers ran over the black surface and turned the small switch above the trigger from safe to fire.
Standing in front of the door with the rifle pointed forward, he waited for people inside to smell the medicine. He had no desire to kill anyone except Gustavo tonight, but he came for Justin, and he would kill anyone who stood in his way.
To his surprise, panic never erupted inside the building. Someone attempted to open the door, bumped it a few times, but the noises died within a minute.
With a shrug, Seth swept toward the three-story, red and white building. The façade boasted prominent curves and twists so characteristic to Central European Baroque architecture style.
* * *
Gustavo’s mansiongreetedhim with an unlocked door and a faint scent of spice and wood. In the gloom, the carved wood of the hall harbored a cozy, warm atmosphere. Just like Gustavo’s soft, low voice, it encouraged relaxation.
An old, spiral wooden staircase led upstairs. From above, a weak moonlight streamed through the glass dome and silvered the banisters. Classic and elegant, the interior flirted with Seth, bewitched him with intricate ornaments. Unable to stop himself, Seth ran his hand over the wood, enjoying the smooth texture.
Seth carried no affection for Baroque. It was too complex, too curved, too heavily gilded. But now, examining the carved chestnut, polished with a semi-matte finish that accented the natural texture of the wood, he admired the design and the architect solutions. Unlike the façade of the building, the interior’s plan was asymmetrical.
A few doors led away from the hall; the designs of each door looked unique but the overall effect proved harmonious. The staircase was asymmetrical too. A wooden ribbon stretched throughout the stories finishing the loop with a long, rectangular balcony on the third floor. Along with the dome, it created the center of the architectural ensemble. Next to the dome, the roof boasted a large rectangular skylight.
Seth’s gaze lowered to his surroundings. Below the balcony, a gray stone fireplace occupied the center of the wall. Opposite to it, another door boasted elaborate carving. Seth wanted to stay longer, to explore every curve of the wood, every cranny, but he didn’t know for how long the medication he’d sprayed into the guardhouse would last. More than that, he needed to find Justin.
He pushed the door open and entered a spacious, tall room filled with books and antiques. In the middle of it, three sofas bracketed a low table that opposed a bar, glasses glinting in the night. Another stair led to a mezzanine where tall bookcases streamed up to the ceiling, stuffed with books. A variety of displays and the wide desk in front of the window suggested it was a library, an office, or both.
Seth knew he shouldn’t be wasting his time exploring the interiors. Still, he entered the room and shut the door.
The house captivated him with the harmony of forms, colors, and something else, invisible to the eye. Seth knew that whoever built this house loved it. He suspected there must be a story behind it, and that sense of mystery captured his imagination.
He stole around the dark office. From time to time, his palm touched different objects learning their textures. He almost reached the tall, arched windows when the papers scattered over the desk drew his attention.
Before he knew it, he held a photograph in his hands, thumbs caressing the familiar forms of the glass sculpture he created. The faces, cast in glass, stared at him with black eye sockets.
It’s been a while since he saw “Purifying fire”, and now confusion swirled in his stomach as he wasn’t sure how to react. Unlike his latest creations, he didn’t love it. Just like the rest of his sculptures, the glass preserved his memories, but these he craved to forget. Long ago, Flames helped him to ease the pain and humiliation that shattered his soul and inflicted the first wounds on the body of the ancient god from his dreams. The reminder of those events was unwelcome. He dropped the photo card to the floor, picked another one, then one more. His gaze stumbled over the black, curious eyes that looked at him, through him, from the old photograph.
Thick saliva filled his mouth and made it hard to swallow. Seth didn’t expect to feel anything when he skimmed through the files, but now, looking at the painfully familiar face of the boy he once knew, a vortex of unsettled emotions arose in the desert of his soul. Having no time to analyze his reaction, he shoved the picture in the toolbelt, shook his head, and forced his attention to the desk.
He flipped through the remained papers so quickly that the edges cut his fingers and washed in red. Photographs and dossiers flickered before his eyes.
The realization that Gustavo investigated his past and explored his creations touched his mind and made him feel both exposed and entertained. A part of him wanted to light a match and burn everything. Another part was curious how far this game could go on and what else this man could find in the shards of memories sealed in glass.
