“So this is where you were taken after you escaped the jail,” said Theo, pulling up outside of a tall apartment building. “Look familiar?” I squinted up at it.
“I didn’t really get a good look at it,” I said. “Between the unconsciousness and the tinted windows on the limo, it was kind of hard to see. But this looks like it could be the place. Okay.” I took a deep breath and opened the SUV door. He placed his hand over mine and beckoned for me to come closer. I leaned in so he could whisper in my ear.
“Remember the cover I came up with. If there’s any trouble, you know where and how to reach me.”
“I hate you and I hate your cover,” I said, hugging him tightly and rolling my eyes before I slid out of the car. “I’ll see you later.” I slammed the door closed behind me.
“Bye, baby!” he shouted, rolling down the passenger's’ window so I could see him waving from the driver’s seat. I flipped my middle finger up at him and he blew me a kiss. “Good luck!” I chuckled and waved back at him before walking through the doors of the building. A doorman held the doors open for me, nodding as I stepped through. There was a series of mailboxes on the side of the room, each of them set into the wall. I walked over to them, scanning through each of the intricately carved boxes in search of any clues that I could use to figure out which apartment the Mementos lived in.
Several of the boxes were inscribed with the same Latin phrase. Magnitudo inest muros hos instauraretis. Whatever it meant-- and I wasn’t sure--I was almost positive that no one but the Memento Moris was showy enough to inscribe Latin on an apartment mailbox. Each of the boxes had a different name below the inscription: F. Abel, N. Boone, I. Castaldi, D. Cooper, C. Fischer, R. Morrison. Shit, no first names. I’d have to get up to that apartment to confirm they were the Memento Moris.
Luckily, there was a note taped beside one of the mailboxes, the D. Cooper one. Tell the doorman whenever there’s a package, it read in messy handwriting. And then just below that, in fancy script, someone had added the word please. Definitely Caitlin’s work, but in any case, it seemed like the doorman was my next stop.
“Hi, I have a package for a D. Cooper,” I said to the fancily dressed doorman I’d passed on my way in.
“I can sign for it. Where’s the box?” he said and I bit my lip. Son of a bitch.
“It’s...not a box. I’m supposed to give it to him directly.” The doorman frowned and my breath hitched in my throat. After a minute, I started panicking. “Boss’ orders. It’s a family heirloom…a memento.”
If the doorman knew who I was referencing, he didn't show it. But after a moment, he shrugged. “If that's what Mr. Cooper tools you to do. The entrance is on the twenty-seventh floor. Someone should be able to help you with the elevators.” He resumed looking ahead at his post.
At least now I knew where I was going. I went back over to the mailboxes, looking at them absently while keeping my attention on the elevator. As soon as one of the building’s tenants swiped their keycard and stepped into the elevator, I slammed the palm of my hand against the mailboxes and started heading for the rapidly closing doors.
“Hold the elevator!” I called out, stretching out an arm and dashing for the box. The woman inside stuck her hand between the doors, reopening them and allowing me time to step inside with her.
“What floor?” she asked politely, as I pretended to catch my breath. I saw her press the button for the fourth floor.
“Twenty-seven,” I said heavily, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. “Thanks.”
YOU ARE READING
Feeling
ActionWhen a multi-billion dollar company creates a series of patches called Links designed to simulate human emotions, the market is turned upside down. But there are some definite downsides. Justice Eve was a hacker with growing recognition until she go...
