The House in the Cerulean Sea(113)
* * *
At a quarter till eight the next morning, Linus pressed the gold number five in the elevator.
Everyone inside the car stared at him.
He stared back.
They looked away first.
The elevator slowly emptied until he was the only one left.
EXTREMELY UPPER MANAGEMENT
BY APPOINTMENT ONLY
He pressed the button next to the metal grate.
It slid open, rattling on its tracks.
Ms. Bubblegum blew a pink bubble. It popped prettily as she sucked it back in between her teeth. “Help you?”
“I have an appointment.”
“With who?”
She had to know. “Extremely Upper Management. I’m Linus Baker.”
She squinted at him. “I remember you.”
“O-kay?”
“I thought you died or something.”
“No. Not yet.”
She tapped a couple of keys on her computer before looking back at him. “Do you have the final report?”
He opened his briefcase. Inside, his fingers brushed against the frame of a photograph before he found what he was looking for. He pulled the folder out and slid it underneath the glass.
She frowned as she picked it up. “This is it?”
“It is.”
“Hold one moment.”
The metal grate slammed back down.
“You can do this, old boy,” he whispered.
* * *
It took longer this time for Ms. Bubblegum to return. So long, in fact, that Linus was sure he’d been forgotten about. He wondered if he should leave, but couldn’t figure out how to make his feet move. They seemed rooted in place.
Minutes went by. At least twenty of them.
He was about to give in to temptation and peek inside his briefcase at the photograph when the metal gate rattled open.
Ms. Bubblegum was frowning. “They’re ready to see you now.”
Linus nodded.
“They’re … not happy.”
“No, I don’t expect they would be.”
She blew a bubble. It popped loudly. “You’re a strange, strange man.”
A buzzer sounded, and the wooden doors opened.
* * *
Ms. Bubblegum didn’t speak as she led him past the fountain toward the black door with the gold plate on it. She opened it and stepped aside.
He didn’t look at her as he walked through the door. It shut behind him. The lights lit up on the floor, showing him the way. He followed them until they spread into a circle. There was a podium in the center of the circle. On it sat his report. He swallowed thickly.
Lights burst to life above him.
And there, staring down from atop the stone wall, was Extremely Upper Management.
The woman. Jowls. The bespectacled man.
And Charles Werner.
“Mr. Baker,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you,” Linus said, shifting nervously.
“Your reports have been … well. They’ve been quite the topic of conversation.”
“Have they?”
Jowls coughed wetly. “That’s one way to put it.”
“You know how I feel about euphemisms,” the bespectacled man said with a frown.
“Mr. Baker,” the woman said. “Is what you see before you the final report?”
“Yes.”
“Truly?”
“Yes.”
She sat back in her chair. “Baffling. I find it to be lacking, compared to your other reports. Very lacking, indeed.”
“I believe I got straight to the point,” Linus countered. “Which is, after all, what you asked of me. I made my recommendation after a month of observation. Isn’t that why I’m here?”
“Careful, Mr. Baker,” Jowls said, squinting down at him. “I don’t like your tone.”
Linus bit back a retort, something even a couple of weeks ago he would never have had to do. “My apologies. I simply—I believe I’ve done what was required of me.”
Charles leaned forward. “Why don’t you read it for us? Perhaps hearing it spoken aloud will impress upon us any meaning lost in translation.”
Fine. He would play their games. He’d done it for years, ever the obedient employee. He opened the folder and looked down. “I solemnly swear the contents of this report are accurate and—”
“We know that, Mr. Baker,” the bespectacled man said rather impatiently. “All the reports start the same. It never changes for anyone. It’s the next part we’re most interested in.”
He looked up at them. “You know what it says.”
Charles grinned at him. “Read it, Mr. Baker.”
Linus did. “It is my recommendation that the Marsyas Orphanage remain open, and that the children therein continue under the tutelage of Arthur Parnassus.”
That was it. That was all he’d written.
He closed the folder.
“Hmm,” Charles said. “I didn’t get anything new from that. Anyone else have further insights?”
Jowls shook his head.
The bespectacled man sat back in his chair.
The woman folded her hands in front of her.