The Elevator

By Anthony O'Brian

Just when you thought you were safe! A beautiful August day in New York City turns into a struggle for survival as technology threatens to turn its security measures into a weapon from which there is no escape. Jacqueline Defray learns the hard truth that life is never completely safe, while Timothy Gillette and Mark Fetterman fight to unravel a mystery man's appearance and control over the Dwight building in Lower Manhattan. Meanwhile, Big Brother is watching his little siblings, but loses track of a dangerous piece of Russian hardware, the new Yury Dolgoruky, a silent missile-laden submarine. What is the outcome? Read to find out!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony O'Brian
• Release date: Jul 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311622655

Anthony O'Brian

Anthony O'Brian is a lifelong resident of the Pacific Northwest. He has a beautiful wife, three wonderful children and one dog. O'Brian has worked a wide variety of jobs, traveled the continental U.S. extensively, and been involved in several professional and non-professional capacities through the years, as a teacher, principal, P.E. instructor, construction worker, bus driver, public speaker, welder, editor, truck driver, machinist, and mechanic; currently a business owner and President of a non-profit corporation. He enjoys writing and has plans for several books to be published soon. Anthony and his family are traveling the United States again working for their non-profit corporation.

Book preview

The

Elevator

Anthony O’Brian

Copyright © 2014

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 9781311622655

2nd Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading my work. This is the 2nd edition, with corrections and repairs to the news links at the end. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No part of this publication may be duplicated, copied, or used without prior permission from the author.

Early Reviews for THE ELEVATOR:

"I read (devoured) it and I gotta say, great story. Too short though; there is so much more story there….very well done." – Keith H., Kamiah, ID

"Really like it. Hard to put down. Very intriguing and fun storyline. I definitely was hooked." – Kevin M., Tulsa, OK

Additional Titles by Anthony O’Brian:

The Two Schillings

The Last Nazi

The Elevator

Prologue

This mission had been unlike any other for anyone aboard that had been in the Soviet sub program but for two men, the Captain and the Executive Officer.

The new Soviet Borei class nuclear sub, the K-535 SSBN Yury Dolgoruky at 574 ft. and 2in., capable of housing 32 Bulava SLBM’s, had been lying off the coast of Greenland for two days. Not moving, not making any sound. The crew was tense and on edge. They were told upon launch they were going to sea trials, yet they sensed it was something different. All the crew had been briefed in old-fashioned Soviet style; do your duty and don’t question anything. This voyage was for Mother Russia. Even though the hardliner Communist-era was gone, there were still stirrings within the hearts of these men of loyalty to the ideology of Mother Russia, what they thought of as Soviet patriotism.

Suddenly, there was a change in the air. The ship creaked ever so slightly and began to slowly move forward, its pump jet engine barely audible even within the enormous tubular, steel ship. The sailors looked at one another and then looked around. They were definitely underway; the tell-tale sway beneath their feet, though slight, awakened their sea legs with familiarity. They were back into action.

There was no announcement over the intercom system; they had expected none, especially after the two days of silence. This did not disappoint them, only heightened their sense of the clandestine. The fact was only three men on board knew their destination and only two of these knew their actual mission; the captain and an agent of the newly formed Soviet Political Enforcement Agency, the resurrected arm of the KGB that supplied so many Second World War and Cold War ships with ‘Political Officers’. It was the Captain’s job to carry out the mission, but it was the SPEA agent’s to ensure that it was so done. You might call it a mutual agreement of distrust and resentment, again a relic of the past.

Well, Lieutenant Kerkov, we are now underway. Spoke Captain Alexander Kulegin.

Yes. The SPEA agent replied without looking up from the chart.

Respect Lieutenant, for the sailors’ sake. The Captain spoke barely above a whisper at Kerkov’s elbow. It will save a lot of questions.

Kerkov immediately came to attention and saluted the Captain. I am so sorry sir, it will not happen again. I was so intent on the orders you gave me that my less respectful side showed through.

Captain Kulegin returned the gesture and pointed to a location on the screen. The Executive Officer was watching the exchange with curiosity, but didn’t need to see the LED display to where the Captain was pointing…he knew. Lieutenant Kerkov watched as the Captain manipulated the display to show their exact location, as they headed toward the Labrador Current, with a moving symbol of a Soviet sub. He listened as the Captain explained their heading and told him the schedule of course changes over the period of the next couple of days.

And this will give us the greatest chance of avoiding detection once we approach the International Waters Boundary?

Absolutely. The Captain indicated the place where the continental shelf began. We have extremely deep water to this point. He looked at the SPEA Agent, After that it becomes dangerous, very dangerous. One way in…one way out.

Kerkov nodded and stared at the Captain intently. It will work. Was all he replied and turned around and left the Command Control.

As soon as the door closed, Dimitri Petranov looked up from his work to find the Captain staring at the door. Sensing the eyes upon him, Captain Alexander Kulegin turned and met his Executive Officer’s gaze. Neither spoke, but they both knew. They didn’t trust him, not one bit.

[↕]

Faddei felt the ship move and looked at his junior ordinance officer. The Yury was underway once again. It had been a long rest, two days, but that is what he was used to. This was his 14th year in the Russian Navy, 12 of those years being spent under the water. He had often wished there was a porthole he could look through to see all of the places he had been in the world’s oceans. He was fascinated by the depths.

Ilya, the junior office was not as seasoned as his superior, the steady Faddei; he had been tense the last two days beyond belief. Faddei had told him it would all be alright, he had been on many missions and at least one sea trail. This was normal. This was good.

They’ve got to check out all aspects of this vessel; everything that might come up later. Sitting on the bottom is as old as submarines. Don’t fret. It won’t be long and we will blow and get underway.

While this did worry Ilya, it wasn’t that entirely. It was something else that he could not get out of his mind. He had been there to watch the loading of missiles while in port. Yes, the paperwork said they were of standard dimensions and weight, but entirely empty and inert, for sea trials. The captain had tasked him to accompany a very stern looking civilian in a navy blue suit and dark sun glasses to observe loading. Ilya assumed it was a politician or someone involved in the ship’s construction, as the man did not appear inclined for conversation he did not ask. They were standing by the base of the conning tower watching, neither speaking, when the crane operator swung a dummy missile too fast and lowered it too soon. The missile slipped in its rigging, threatening to fall into the sea. The man beside Ilya was horror struck and a look of terror and panic overcame his features. While Ilya admitted to himself any mistake could mean a person’s position, career, or future, there was something intangible about the man’s reaction that troubled him.

Once the missile tubes were loaded the man asked to be taken below deck to the missile command station. There was a control room and then several support rooms. Then there were the catwalks where the missile silos could be observed and serviced if necessary. That was where the man asked to be taken.

As they entered the largest room on the submarine, the man went directly to a small storage container off to the side and opened it. Reaching in he withdrew a box labeled, ракеты службы блокировки, Missile Service Locks. This surprised Ilya, but he had his orders. The man went straight to each missile, all 20 of them and snapped on the lock over the service door hasp. Then he did something that was forever burned into Ilya’s mind. He pocketed the keys.

We are finished. The man tersely informed Ilya. Take me topside.

This was done and without another word the man walked away, climbed up to the dock and disappeared. Ilya had never spoken of this to anyone.

Chapter 1 – 8.14.2014, 07:49 AM EST

Timothy Gillette was running a little late to work. He sped just a little more than usual as he weaved his way in and out of heavy traffic. He had already been late three times this year. Tim often read or researched various topics or hobby interests late into the night only to fall asleep at his desk or on the couch without setting his alarm. Last night was no exception…he was probably going to be late again.

Tim pulled into the parking space marked ‘RESERVED DefSol Engineering - Division President’. He threw the Mercedes into park and jumped out nearly before the vehicle had come to a complete stop. Grabbing his valise he bolted down the sidewalk and swiped his key card on the ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ doorway. The light glowed green and he jerked the door wide, hurrying inside. His feet made swift tapping sounds on the marbled main floor.

Nestled in downtown Manhattan the Dwight Building’s fifty floors were shared by thirty-four different companies, one of which was DefSol, which stood for Defense Solutions Engineering, Inc., they held an entire two floors to themselves, with plans for a third should this contract go through. When Tim was on time, he was exact, thus he often saw the same exact people nearly every morning with only slight variation. He knew that he didn’t even have to look at this watch; all he had to do was see who was waiting for the elevator and he would know just how late he was. Tim rounded the corner and continued on for twenty more feet. The bank of elevators was just around another corner from there. Missing an elevator in the morning could add four or five minutes to the tardiness of an employee, he didn’t want to do that today of all days. He was going to be finishing a project today that should net him a hefty sum on commission to the Department of Defense. It was his brainchild and had received the go-ahead from the Corporate Vice President going forward. Timothy had hand-picked seven different engineers within various segments of the company to help with the project. No one of them knew what they were working on entirely, only him. There, as with any such project, had been numerous changes, revisions, and corrections sent back and forth, but day before yesterday they all ended up on his desk, all seven of them, finished and perfect. He had spent yesterday putting everything together, even staying late, and now it was ready for a preliminary presentation to a DOD agent, meeting him here in a few hours. He was sure of a sale.

Just as he came around the corner he saw the middle elevator’s doors closing. Wait! He hollered and waved his arm. His eyes caught several familiar faces. One belonging to the lovely Jacqueline Defray, employee of DefSol, worked on his project actually. That meant he wasn’t going to be late after all! She was one of the people he saw every morning when he was on time. Jacqueline reached over quickly and hit the ‘Door Open’ button. There was a second’s hesitation as the doors continued closing and then came together. Then they suddenly sprang back open and Tim completed the last four steps and was inside!

A small cheer went up and Tim gave Jacqueline a high-five. Someone slapped his back then the doors closed and they started up.

[↕]

The green LED display above the elevator door ticked off the last seven remaining floors in rapid succession with no interruptions. There were only two people left on the elevator riding their way to the forty-seventh and forty-eight floors respectively. Tim looked over at Jacqueline and smiled, his green eyes twinkling with sincere warmth and sincere admiration of his associate’s perfect olive complexion and equally perfect figure. Jacqueline was beautiful, intelligent, and a vivacious woman of twenty-five. She took great pains to eat healthy, stay fit, and stay sharp. She never overdressed or wore tight, revealing clothes, but somehow she always managed to turn the men’s heads. Jacqueline knew this, but she paid them little attention; she was intensely focused on her career…for the most part. She did have a secret romantic interest that she found she could not shake, the man in the elevator with her, her boss, Timothy Gillette. As far as she knew, Tim wasn’t interested in the least, except he would fix her with an intense measuring stare sometimes for several seconds – as he was doing now. It was nothing overt or rude, just simply a steady gaze into her dark grey eyes.

They were alone now in the elevator, having dropped the others off at various floors. A crisp electronic bell sounded and the elevator slowed quickly and came to a smooth stop. Floor 47 a soft, equally electronic voice spoke. The doors opened.

Looking back down from the display, Jacqueline spoke the obvious, but made no move toward the waiting foyer. This is my floor. She smiled at Tim revealing perfect teeth, even and sparkling white.

Yes…it is. Tim, somewhat uncomfortable at their short, solitary ride, cleared his throat and moved his valise into his left hand. Extending his right hand he said, Thanks for waiting for me Jacqueline.

She looked at the hand and laughed lightly, her voice tinged with just enough huskiness and feminine pitch to make it perfect as well.

Mr. Gillette, Feeling an unusually burst of self confidence, she looked full into his eyes and erased the smile from her face. I will always wait on you. With that she turned and walked out of the elevator.

Before Tim had time to comprehend her words or appreciate the view, the elevator doors snapped shut and he felt gravity press up on his feet. He stood, like a statue, arm still extended until a crisp bell sounded and a soft electronic voice spoke. Floor 48.

He came out of his trance, looking first at the display above the door and then back to his hand. He quickly put his hand down just as the doors opened. He quickly walked out into a short hallway with nothing but three doors. He went to the door straight in front of the elevator, swiped his card, waited and walked briskly into another hallway with three more doors. Once again, he walked to the door straight ahead, but this time upon swiping his card a panel slid open in the wall. He put his right hand in and waited as the light scanned his palm. The magnetic lock hummed and he pushed open his office door as the lights, soft background music and HVAC kicked on.

Man! What just happened to me? Once, his office door closed behind him he lost his composure and professional demeanor. He threw his valise onto the leather sofa and ripped off his jacket, throwing it onto the armchair. What just happened?! He pounded the corner of his desk with his fist. He stood there for several seconds looking at the wall behind his desk lined with old books. Then he quickly turned and walked to the window and pushed the button for the blinds. He was instantly bathed in blinding morning sunlight and looked out over the city from 560 feet high. He was confused. This only made him angrier. He couldn’t even think through the last few minutes, much less clearly. She didn’t shake my hand! Then walked out after saying something stupid! Now, he was feeling a whole plethora of feelings. He hated that! That’s why he had sworn off associating with women at work too much. They interfered in his work! At 32, he was head of his division of DefSol, Inc. here in New York City and headed for an executive vice-president position in his opinion. Now here he stood, immersed in an uncontrollable bath of emotions, and had completely forgotten why he was so excited to come to work today.

I can tell you. A man’s voice spoke from behind him. Tim whirled around, the blood instantly pounding in his temples and his body flooded with adrenaline. Tim stared as his mind registered the presence of the intruder. Put away your jujitsu, Mr. Gillette. The man laughed as Tim relaxed and put away his attack stance that he didn’t even remember taking out.

Larry! What are you doing in my office?! Tim yelled. His office was supposed to be highly secure.

Just standing here. Larry could be a real pain at times, not all the time, but a real New Yorker he would say. Watching you throw a fit. You sorta lost it once you came in here, Tim.

Yeah, I know.

She’s a real looker ain’t she? Larry’s voice got low and real confidential, with a strange tone to it, somewhat more heavily accented then Tim remembered.

What are you talking about? Tim yelled again and then started across the room the veins standing out on his forehead.

Calm down. Jacqueline Defray, that what I am talking about. She’s got you messed up. Larry’s voice maintained its conspiratorial tone.

That’s it, Larry! Out! Tim face was red as he pointed to the door. Out before I throw you out with broken bones!

Not so fast, Mr. Gillette. Larry’s voice notched up somewhat. I was sent here by your boss and you ain’t throwing me nowheres if you want your job to remain intact.

This stopped Tim and he lowered his jabbing finger and looked at his associate with a puzzled expression. What!?

You heard me. It was here that Larry made his first mistake. He walked over to the bar refrigerator and took out two bottles of Pierre, snapped the caps off and handed one to Tim. Sit. Larry motioned to the couch. For some reason Tim obediently sat. Larry took the opposing arm chair and sipped his bottle of sparkling water.

What’s going on? He asked, still stunned.

Plenty. Larry took another swallow. Something’s come up and we are caught in the hot seat. That is DefSol, I mean. Particularly it’s New York Division President. Namely you, Timothy R. Gillette. Larry pointed at Tim with the bottle of sparkling water.

Tim could see the small tiny bubbles popping out of the bottle and then the stubby forefinger extended toward him from the neck of the bottle. His eyes finally focused on Larry. Larry was as serious as a ball peen hammer, round face and all. He shifted his weight, the leather couch creaked.

The phone on Tim’s desk chirped. Tim stood up and walked over to the front of his desk and reached for the receiver.

Forget it. Larry wasn’t joking.

The phone chirped again. Tim’s hand hovered over the receiver and looked at the blinking light.

It’s an internal call. Tim reasoned, frustrated that he was taking orders from this guy.

Forget it. You better silence your cell phone too. I am going to need you for the next 10 minutes without interruption.

Tim hit the ‘voicemail’ button and reached in his pocket, pulled out his cell phone and silenced the ringer. He turned back to the couch and his Pierre.

He checked his anger with a great deal of effort. This man was forgetting all protocol and also just who he was, but it must be important, he reasoned. Talk to me Mr. Lazzaro Belluci.

His real name was Lazzaro, but Larry was easier…for everybody. Unfazed, Larry continued. How is your project coming?

Done. It is ready for final evaluation. I have an appointment with a DOD agent this afternoon. Tim was so pleased with himself and his team that he failed to ask himself how Larry even knew about the project.

Cancel it. Larry said flatly.

Tim nearly sprayed sparkling water across the open space between them. He swallowed hard. What?

Again, you heard me.

"Listen, last time I checked you were a junior engineer on the forty-seventh floor working on civil defenses contracts for metropolitan police forces and now you somehow appeared in my office ahead of me and you are taking drinks from my fridge and ordering me around! What is going on?!"

Larry sidestepped the question and then took another sip of Pierre. I am always at work ahead of you.

So help me God, if you don’t answer some questions or get out of here I will snap your neck and gladly go to prison for it! I don’t need security to deal with you!

Larry pulled something out of his pocket with his left hand and tossed it on the glass coffee table. It landed heavily and flipped open.

It lay there, where it had come open, and Tim could easily see the words on the badge. ‘Special Agent Department of Homeland Security’.

[↕]

Jacqueline cradled the phone to her ear as she typed away on her computer, answering an email. It simply rang and rang, then sent her to voicemail again. Hello, this is the desk of Timothy Gillette, Chief Engineer and Division President of DefSol, Inc. New York please leave me a message… This time she did.

Hello. Mr. Gillette, this is Jacqueline Defray on 47, I know you are extremely busy, but can you give me a call at your earliest convenience? My extension is 4765. I have received several odd emails today from a company we did business with earlier this year. I would like to speak with you about them…in person. Thanks.

She hung up, finished typing the email, and then pushed back from her desk. She swiveled around and walked out of her small interior office and went down the hall to the coffee machine. It was going to be a long day.

[↕]

Okay so what’s the story? Tim made no move to touch the badge and finally Larry sat up, reached over and picked it up, sliding it back into the inside pocket of his suit.

Jason Kirkpatrick called me last night and sent me to you personally. He updated security with my biometric signatures so I had access to your office via the hand scanner. That’s how I ended up in here ahead of you. Larry paused and took another sip.

Jason Kirkpatrick was the company’s CEO and no doubt would be one of the only ones that could swing something that drastic without first going through Gillette.

Belluci continued, "The company knows of my government role and has short-circuited the red tape and asked me to present your project directly to our clients at DHS, CIA, and DOD simultaneously…this thing is red hot and we need to get rolling before someone else jumps ahead of us. I will need full access to the program by noon today."

Tim cocked his head to one side. For some reason, he wasn’t buying it. Something wasn’t right here. The effects from his encounter with the dark-haired and beautiful Jacqueline in the elevator were wearing off and his mind was back on track; the Swiss clock was ticking now and something wasn’t adding up. A sudden thought occurred to him. How did Larry know about his encounter with Jacqueline this morning? Had she told him somehow while he was getting to his office? By text maybe? He doubted it; it didn’t seem possible. He considered it though and made a mental note to find out.

So… Larry paused again. You are to give me the drive with the presentation, schematics, and access codes and I will take it from here. Larry stood up and looked at his watch. I really need to get going. Do you have the drive here?

Alarm bells were going off in Gillette’s mind. It’s not out of the realm of possibility! He thought to himself as he watched Belluci stand. This happens in the movies and intelligence agencies…it could happen here. This project is the sort of stuff that would draw the attention of countries. Tim was suddenly tense, every muscle ready for combat, as he remained seated. He didn’t answer.

Larry, nonplussed, polished off the remaining dregs of his Pierre and sat it down on the coffee table. "Look, I understand you are a bit shocked by all of this. I know it’s hard to take that a junior engineer within your division has been asked to take your project over. I would feel the