Rapture Noir: Return to Sender

        I stood in front of what used to be the headquarters of Fontaine Futuristics scarcely a month ago, and even though the year was about to be wrapped up in a sea of drinks and drugs, people still busied themselves around it.

 

        It were not Fontaine's people however, oh no. The company ceased to exist and now, Ryan's face adorned yet another part of Rapture that resisted him for so long. I took out a cigarette out of my pocket and brought my hand to my mouth ,flicking it absent-mindedly. I drag on an unlit cigarette and wonder why isn't it smoking. I scold myself once I recall that I was off ADAM for a while now. I take out matches and lit the thing, inhaling the smoke. They are from Pharaoh's Fortune.

 

        I take out the photographs out of a brown envelope from my pocket of my coat and glance at them again. The sight of Elizabeth caught in the act of tearing reality apart - whoever wanted to know about her was about to have a bad day. Mast and the company were busy taking Fontaine's empire apart, and I doubt they cared for my whereabouts. They have ignored me for a while now, but I feared it might be me on the other side of the barricade in the future - all depended upon how deep this went.

 

        My eyes are glued to her slender, shapely form, jumping out of a rift into Rapture. To entertain such thoughts now was a pointless torture, but it wasn't a fantasy that occupied my mind in relation to her, but a memory more alive than I wanted it to be. I shoved the photo back into the envelope, which I marked just in case with a small X in the corner, dropped the cigarette and walked towards the entrance.

       

        The attendant at the desk looked pretty, if tired. Her brown hair still held its style, even though rogue strands wee defying the mold and were accompanied by a pencil tucked away behind her ear; a sign of more than few hours in a hurry, packing documents and filling in last of details. Her eyes were shielded by a pair of glasses.

 

        She didn't look at me as I crossed the lobby and she didn't look at me when I made my way to her desk.

 

        "Excuse me miss, I'm here about the photos..."

       

        "Please leave the envelope on the desk, I'll be back with payment shortly."

 

        As she stood up, she only glanced at me with her brown eyes. I noticed a brief hesitation, I wasn't the man that usually comes over it seemed, but she accepted me apparently as she walked over to the shelf. returning with a money envelope, she eyed me once she saw me still standing there with no photographs at hand.

 

        "Anything else you wanted? I'm pretty sure you have no more business here."

 

        "You see miss, I have couple of questions about the photos..."

 

        "I don't deal with that," she cut me off as she sat down in her chair. "As you can see I'm not going to deal with this place any more so I can't really help you."

 

        As far as I could tell, she was telling the truth. I wasn't going to leave this place without information however. A punch or a threat usually resolved the problem with a man, but I fancied a bit of sweet-talk with an overworked secretary would do the trick too. I had no reason to feel lucky, but I felt damn clever for trying something other than barking threats at people.

 

        "You know miss, I've got pretty good connection at Kashmir, I can get a bottle of bubbly too in time for the New Year's. Its the biggest night of the year after all."

 

        "I'm very happy for you mister." She was snappy and unyielding. "I'm going there too. With my husband."

 

        "Heh, that's nice."

 

        "Indeed it is. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

 

        It was embarrassing but I couldn't move until I got what I needed. Uncomfortable as hell, I stood there and looked at her, whilst she looked at her documents.

       

        "I'm sorry, could you just tell me who ordered those photographs? I need to speak with that person."

       

        "Mister, I'm sorry but I am not able to help you with that. the arrangement was strictly by drop only. Now please can you give me the photos and leave?"

       

        She was growing annoyed and the security in the lobby took note of it. They didn't move, but I could see the shift and eye me. No point in pushing it any further. I pulled out the envelope and put it in front oh her. She quickly took it and dropped the cash envelope in my hand.

 

        I pulled out a cigarette out and lit it up as soon as I was out of Fontaine's former front. The arrangement was tight and I didn't know who was getting the photos. I could watch the door to see who would come from them, but I was sure the pictures went to the client by Penumo.

 

        I'm back in the Atlantic Express, making a beeline for Apollo's. The Penumo goes through it, the Jet Postal will be swarmed with greeting cards and other mess, there should be enough time for me to get the package before it disappears. I think on it as I stare out of the glass window at the city lights, enveloped in the murky green. I was hoping that she would just slap an address on the envelope and I could fish it out. The problem was to get it out of there. Which of these lights was the one I was looking for? I might just tell Elizabeth what's what and get her to open a tear. No, I don't know i it will even work. besides, I need to do this alone.

 

        Apollo is full of noise and discontent. I push towards Jet Postal, passing Atlas posters. The walls are covered with them. Who is Atlas? Whomever it was, I cared little. Postal was besieged once I got there, people clamoring for parcels or trying to send a message to someone. I push through the crowd and battle my way to the counter. The people at the tubes are milling around like in hot water, going to and fro, carrying parcels and mail.

 

        "Hey, hey!" I push in front of the queue and scream at the pneumo workers.

 

        "Watch it buddy, there's queue over her.e Get back in line!" I hear screams behind me, accompanied by shoving and yelling. I feel a hand on my arm, which I quickly take off it and twist it.

 

        "Ryan Security business pal, now step off." I barked at the man behind me before letting go of the hand, while a Jet Postal worker approached the counter. A lanky, young man with a mop of yellow hair, he looked apprehensive, faced with a large crowd.

 

        "Sir, I must ask you to get back in the queue. Until then..."

 

        I flashed my PI licence in his face. "I don't have time for this, I am here to check out some stuff, on Chief Sullivan's behalf."

 

        His expression grew more docile all of a sudden. "Umm, what exactly are you looking for, sir?"

 

        "Fontaine Futuristics tubes, now let me in!" I rush to approach the door leading to the employee area. I can still hear murmurs of the angry crowd as I'm let in and led to the package sorting and transfer.

 

        "Umm, the shelves and the cart with Fontaine Futuristics mail are here although I doubt you will find anything, we don't keep things in here for very long." The words ring hollow however as the stacks of mail betray him. His earlier subdues appearance took on intrigued attention. centered on me.

 

        "Thats alright, thank you. I won't keep you." The man walks off, I can see his suspicion growing, but that ceases to concern me as as took to frantic digging for my envelope. Lot of mail, packages and information, sent out to multitude of people who relied on Fontaine or worked for him. But I was only interested in the brown envelope.

 

        Time was passing unpleasantly quickly, with me trying to catch both the incoming items and see that nothing is dropped off without me having a look first. the damn envelope was nowhere to be seen. In the corner of my eye I saw the same young man who let me in pick up a phone. He did not bother to conceal that he was looking in my direction.

       

        I felt cold sweat on my neck, while I hurried to find that damn packet of photos. I started throwing things out of the shelves and scattered them on the floor. I glanced back at the lanky attendant, who was in a middle of a fairly conspicuous discussion. Mast would not be able to save me from this, the man probably would want to put a bullet in my back by now.

        I was done with almost all parcels and envelopes when I noticed the attendant return to me.

 

        "Sir, may I ask you for your ID? I must admit that something is amiss..."

 

        I heard the sound of air in one of the tubes just as he asked me the question. Last package out of Fontaine's, it had to be it.

 

        Sir? Sir..." I disregard the man and rush to get it out of the tube. Brown envelope, a small x on the bottom. Name written in pencil on the front: Suchong. I sigh in relief and quickly pocket the thing, before turning around to face the man.

 

        "That would be all, thank you for your cooperation." I try to push through him, but he seems insistent on holding me in the station. "Sir, I need you to identify yourself properly, I've just spoke with Sergeant Mast and he said..."

 

        "I know what he said." That fella couldn't stop me if he tried, bigger ones that him tried and failed. I gave him a hard shove and he ended up on the floor, with me out of the door and pushing out through the somewhat thinned crowd. I could hear the beeping of alarm going off as I dashed towards the Metro to get away.

 

        Elizabeth might have had all the time in the world, but in reality, she only had as much as I did, and it wasn't a lot.