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John Carpenter's
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HOSTILE TAKEOVER - CHAPTER 2
If there was any part of Gotham City that contradicted the
bleakness of its surroundings, the Central Business District would be
it. This was the financial center of Gotham. The district was situated
in south Gotham, resting on the shores of the Gotham River. This area
housed some of the more important and powerful businesses in the city.
Found here were the largest of the city's banks and the Gotham Stock
Exchange. Some of the world's most famous museums were located here.
These included the renowned Butler Museum of Modern Art, the Gotham
Art Institute and the Gotham Museum of Natural History. Live theatre
thrived here from "Off Broadway" productions to small and experimental
theatre. This was the heart that pumped much needed financial and
cultural blood into an ailing city.
The "jewel in the crown" of the district was the Wayne Foundation. The
Foundation was a marvel of neo-classical design. It was a glimmering
fortress of glass and metal. This towering construct was a testament
to the abilities and achievement of one company's commitment to
betterment of the city. It was the main headquarters for all of WAYNE
INDUSTRIES businesses. Everything from WAYNE PHARMACEUTICALS to WAYNE
AERONAUTICS to WAYNETECH could be found in this one architectural
wonder. This vast empire fell under the control of one man, the sole
heir of the Wayne fortune, Bruce Wayne.
Wayne himself was sort of an enigma. He ran all of his businesses from
this single fortress. This was a rather unorthodox practice to say the
least. It was on the same lines as putting all of your eggs in one
basket. Wayne didn't seem to mind or care; it was the way he wanted
it. He never seemed interested in the business world in any sense. He
would rather play golf or chase after popular starlets and models than
attend droll meetings. He hardly entered the office before 1 in the
afternoon but if he had to, he would do it unwillingly. He usually
came in tired. It was suspected that his playboy lifestyle was just
too important to miss a night. He came across as probably the most
boring, dimwitted and aloof man alive just as he was described in
newspaper articles and tabloids. He was just a pretty boy with a
strong, square jaw, muscular build and no brains. It was popularly
believed that most of his female companions enjoyed his company to get
near his large, imposing physique or the large, imposing Wayne
fortune. Despite this fact, people still clambered to be in his
company. He was still Bruce Wayne and people liked to be seen with the
famous.
Regardless of these peccadilloes of Wayne's, the Foundation thrived
and grew to become one of the most successful operations worldwide.
This was due to Wayne's hiring the best of the best to manage and
operate his interests. They were the real backbone that kept Wayne
Enterprises moving and growing.
An idiot or not, he was the benevolent prince of Gotham. He gave back
more in donations to the city in one year than most other companies
ever did. Although some believed he did this for tax reasons, Wayne
deeply cared and loved his city and wished to bring it out of it dire
straits.
The hustle and bustle in the foundation lobby was as hectic as ever.
People rushing around discussing the current Dow-Jones averages with
one another. Others were talking on cell phones trying to close a deal
or start a new one. Men and women in business dress hurriedly trying
to make sure all is right for their presentations for the board later
that afternoon. It was business as usual at the foundation.
With all of the heavy traffic in the lobby, no one had the time to
notice a man in a dark tan suit and briefcase enter the gleaming glass
doors. His appearance was no different from any other man in the
lobby. From his clean-shaven face to his polished, black shoes. The
only thing that might have made him stand out was his thick, brown
hair was combed back and pulled into a ponytail. This was not unusual
in the day of the yuppie professionals but he was the only man in the
lobby with one.
He confidently strolled passed the bronze Greek statues that decorated
the vestibule up to the reception desk where sat two security guards.
He waited for the busy guards to finish answering their phones and
signing in the people ahead of him. The guards were speedy and
efficient in their tasks. Wayne hired nothing but the best. After
taking care of the people ahead of him, a young guard, early twenties
with his black hair cut into a high and tight military style looked up
at the man to assist him. The guard's demeanor was pleasant and
professional without being curt or phony.
"Can I help you, Sir?" asked the guard.
"Yes, I have a nine-thirty interview with Mr. Bruce Wayne and Mr.
Lucius Fox," The man replied smoothly.
"And your name is..." requested the guard.
"Norris, Blair Norris," the man chimed in. He offered the guard his
driver's license for proof of identity. The guard studied it for a
moment before handing back to Mr. Norris.
The young guard looked over a list on his clipboard. "Norris, Norris,
Norris. Ah, yes. You are to meet them in Mr. Wayne's office. That is
located on the forty-seventh floor. Take the elevator behind us, go to
the forty-seventh floor, turn left and it is down the hall to the
reception desk. Check in first with his secretary, please. Meeting
with Mr. Wayne himself... Not many applicants get to do that. "
"Well, let's just say that I've worked hard for this moment to
happen," Mr. Norris quipped back.
The guard handed Mr. Norris back his driver's license. "Thank you and
good luck, Mr. Norris"
"Thanks for all of your help..." Looking at the guard's name badge,
".... Jimmy."
Mr. Norris walked hurriedly toward the elevator. He had plenty of time
before his interview but none the less, he wished this was over and
done.
"Well Mac, so far, so good," 'Mr. Norris' thought to himself. "Meet
Wayne, go to give him a handshake, pop-pop, two in the skull and get
out, if possible," He was relieved that the porcelain Glock .9 handgun
in his briefcase didn't trigger any alarms. He was plenty sure it
wouldn't, but it still made him uneasy. The porcelain handgun wasn't
easy to find but he had to have it. They were made for the
specifically for smuggling past detectors. With office violence at an
all time high, MacReady took every precaution needed to get the gun in
the building.
MacReady pushed the elevator button for the forty-seventh floor and
stood patiently for the shining, brass doors to open. He stood alone
by the door. This made him feel at ease. He did not wish to have a
crowd around him at this moment. His solitude helped him focus on his
mission, his cause.
MacReady had worked hard for this moment. It wasn't easy to get forged
documents, resumes and IDs in Gotham, but it wasn't impossible. Find
the right person and pay the right amount and you could be a whole,
new person in about a week. It cost him fifty-five hundred dollars to
become 'Blair Norris', Wall street wonder looking for employment with
Waynetech, and another two thousand dollars to sustain him long enough
to process him through the proper channels. After that, it was just a
matter of placing the right phone calls to the right people, sending
the right letters to the right offices and viola, a meeting with the
man himself. The part that could have caused the most difficulty was
having a computer geek reroute phone calls to specially set up phone
lines to confirm references and background checks. MacReady was
surprised it worked. This all took the better part of two months to
get the necessary credentials. Two months since he first read the
article in USA TODAY, giving birth to 'Blair Norris' and get to this
point. This was a very elaborate scheme but MacReady had to get close
to Wayne. On the street, he could miss or be stopped before he could
get Wayne. Besides, he wanted to be close to Wayne, in his face, when
he did it. MacReady wanted to tell Wayne why he had to be stopped
without anyone else getting in the way. He wanted to make sure that
Wayne was indeed dead in the end. So far, his plan was going off
smoothly without one single hitch or snag. For the kind of money he
spent, it better have.
As luck would have it, two businessmen walked up behind him. They
chattered incessantly about their stock holdings, which had the better
golf handicap, where their wives demanded to be taken for vacation,
bla-bla-bla.
So God help me! If they don't shut the hell up, I'll waste these
jackasses right now, he thought over and over again.
As if in answer to a prayer he had not said, the elevator doors slid
open. MacReady entered the elevator and forcefully pushed the button
numbered forty-seven. The businessmen sauntered in and kept up their
noise and pushed the button for the twentieth floor.
Ah, great. Twenty more for floors with the dipshit twins. Not gonna
make this easy on me are you, Lord?
The ride to the twentieth floor was long and painful. Is golf
really that damned interesting that they must discuss it for this
long? MacReady pondered. If I didn't already hate that damned
game, I would now.
MacReady focused back on his goal. Stopping Wayne and his plan were
the only things that mattered. He didn't care if he got out safely or
alive. That wasn't important-- stopping Wayne's pet project was.
"Forty-seventh floor", spoke a pleasant, synthesized female voice from
nowhere.
MacReady exited the elevator and headed left down the hall. He could
not get over the design of this palace. The hallway and floor were
charcoal gray marble. The walls must have stood twelve feet high and
the length ran over twenty-three feet. The marble was polished to a
high shine. MacReady felt is if he was walking into some sort of
mausoleum instead of a hallway. The lighting was dimmed to the point
of creating an atmosphere of uneasiness. It reminded him of some of
the old monster movies he watched as a boy. He half expected the Mummy
or Dracula to jump out at any moment. To his own surprise, he was calm
in his slow walk to his destination.
Who the hell is this guy? MacReady asked himself while
looking over the marble mile.
The clik-clak of his footsteps broke the silence of the hallway. This
made MacReady wonder if it was set up this way to detect intruders or
to intimidate those who walked towards Wayne's lair. The paintings
that adorned the hallway were all originals not lithographs or prints.
Soft lighting was placed above them to delicately illuminate the
paintings. If MacReady were an art expert he would of known that the
least expensive painting cost around thirty-eight hundred dollars.
MacReady noticed that there were no doors in the hallway. No other
offices, no windows, nothing. This hallway lead to Wayne's area and
nobody else's.
All of this, and now he wants to play the great explorer,
MacReady thought in disgust.
The end of the hall opened up into a large reception room. It
resembled the rest of the floor, dark and foreboding. The room was
indeed beautiful but imposing. The floor was completely covered by a
light-gray carpet that began at the entrance of the room with a dark
gray border. There was a large ebony counter in the front of the room.
Several black chairs were lined on the north wall. A long black
leather couch was on the west wall. A short, glass coffee table was
situated in the circumference of the furniture. The south wall was all
smoke-tinted glass. It offered a grand view of the buildings and
landscape in this spectacular part of Gotham. More expensive paintings
lined the north and west walls. An elaborate metal sculpture was fixed
on the east wall next to the doors that lead to Wayne's office. It was
an abstract but MacReady thought it resembled and man and a woman with
what looked like a child, possibly a young boy. It was all impressive
but very, very moody.
The only thing that gave the floor any kind of warmth and pleasantness
was the secretary behind the reception desk. She was a young woman
possibly in her late twenties. Her hair was dark brown and cut short.
She was dressed in a green dress, business-like but not too formal.
Her features were striking but not unapproachable. She had a sense of
elegance about her as if being a secretary was not what she was really
cut out for. Her long body suggested to MacReady that she could have
done modeling or been in movies. MacReady thought that she probably
was hired for her looks or other specific talents, not for her office
skills and great cup of coffee.
"Yes, may I help you?" She asked before MacReady reached her desk.
"Yes, good morning. I have a nine-thirty appointment with Mr.'s Wayne
and Fox. My name is..."
"Mr. Norris, yes," the secretary interrupted. "You are expected. If
you like to take a seat, I'll let Mr. Wayne know you are here. Would
care for a cup of coffee while you wait?"
"No, no thank you," replied MacCready. Maybe he was wrong; she seemed
to be fast and efficient, more than just nice 'T&A.'
MacReady took a seat near the northwest corner. The secretary picked
up her phone.
"Mr. Wayne? Sir, Mr. Norris is here for his nine-thirty interview.
Yes, sir... yes, sir. Thank you, sir." She put her phone down gently.
"Mr. Wayne will be with you shortly. Are you sure you wouldn't like a
cup of coffee?"
"No, thank you. I do appreciate it, though," MacReady returned. He
gave a quick glance at the secretary. He could have sworn that she was
eyeing him up. He quickly dismissed this and proceeded with phase two
of his plan.
When MacReady was sure that the secretary wasn't looking, he opened
his briefcase. As he pretended to look through his documents, he
slowly pulled his handgun from the case. When he finished getting his
"paperwork in order", he closed the case. The back of the briefcase
had a large strip of Velcro glued to the middle. The left side of the
Glock .9 porcelain handgun also had Velcro glued to it. As delicately
and as quickly as possible, he attached the handgun to the briefcase.
He figured the faster he could reach his gun, the quicker he could hit
his target. Who knew, maybe Wayne had bodyguards? He had to be as fast
as he could.
After five incredibly long minutes, the secretary's phone rang.
MacReady snapped his head towards the sound. His instinct was to grab
this gun but he kept his cool.
"Yes? Yes, Mr. Wayne," the secretary hung up the phone. "You may go in
now, Mr. Norris. Mr. Wayne is ready to see you."
"Thank you very much," said MacReady as he walked towards the large
office doors.
As he approached the doors, they slowly swung open. The inner sanctum
was opened to MacReady and he was allowed entrance.
There in the middle of the office were two men. One was Lucius Fox,
the real brains of all of Wayne's enterprises. Fox was a black man in
his early fifties. He was of moderate built. His hair was slightly
receding and graying at the temples. He was looking over some papers,
sorting them as he went. Fox adjusted his glasses, turned towards
MacReady and smiled.
The other was the man himself, Bruce Wayne. He glanced up from the
papers that Lucius Fox was holding. He straightened his back and faced
'Mr. Norris'.
My God, he's huge! MacReady thought as he got closer to the
doors. Wayne was a large man, actually physically imposing. He thought
Wayne could have been dangerous if he knew what he was doing.
MacReady could not believe that his moment had come. It had, though,
and MacReady knew that it was time to finish it.
"Come in, Mr. Norris. Its good to finally meet you," Wayne said with a
smile. "I've been looking forward to this.
MacReady walked slowly, deliberately towards the doors. "Not as much
as I have been," MacReady returned as he reached for the back of his
briefcase.
It was now or never.
Chapter 3
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