Security(37)

Camera 5

The Killer is in Franklin’s office. He swivels on the office chair, enjoying the break from his duties as well as the three--thousand--dollar “seating experience” Franklin insisted upon to counteract an acute case of sciatica. He opens desk drawers idly, hoots when he finds the scotch, pours a glass, and toasts the security camera to provoke the Thinker’s envy, but the Thinker’s occupied with his cards. The Killer stands and takes his drink into the secret elevator. Vivica’s eyes are milky and opaque.

Camera 33

Jules drops a salad plate. She yowls, “Cock--sucking slut--f*ck retard—” et cetera at Justin, seeming, in that second, to truly believe the broken dish is his fault. Justin takes this for about twenty seconds; then he picks up a Swarovski vase centerpiece, slings his arm back, and throws it with all his strength straight at Jules’s head. She ducks. The vase shatters onto the table behind her. The petals and bits of crystal look like purposeful décor. Jules and Justin stare at each other, their jaws agape.



Brian walks toward Tessa.

Tessa says, “Did I stutter? I said get specific, right now.”

“I am.” He hasn’t stopped walking.

“Brian—”

“Don’t be afraid of me. Don’t think I’m going to hurt you. I’m not. Not ever again.” He reaches her, but he doesn’t reach for her. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Tessa tries to back up. She hits the latticework. The jasmine reports that she is trembling. “Define ‘take care of,’ ” she says. “Define it specifically.”

Define “take care of.” To watch over. To concern oneself with. To worry about, even when the object of one’s care isn’t interested in one’s care. Tessa wants freedom, independence. No woman truly wants independence. She wants the freedom to choose her own master. This is also what men want. The origin of all human conflict is, possibly, disagreement about who ought and ought not to be one’s master. The origin of all human happiness is, maybe, mutual agreement on the subject.

Brian reaches for her—for her waist, a hand on either side. “Take me somewhere I can show you.”

Tessa’s hands, on his either arm. “Show me here.”

He looks smarmily at Camera 64. “Plus,” he says, and winces, “stone floor?”

Tessa explodes into laughter, and so does he. She takes his hand and pulls it toward the door. Brian looks back at her boots. He smiles, boyishly. It is an encouraging sign that Tessa feels she will not need her boots where they are going. They are going over the dunes. Their mouths don’t move; they’re not talking. They’ve had enough talking. They are entering Manderley, crossing the foyer. Tessa is pressing the “Up” button on the elevator, and then they are waiting.

Camera 33

Delores is sitting at the table where the vase landed. She’s alone in near-perfect quiet, her eyes roaming shattered dishes and pebbles of expensive glass like they’re terribly familiar. She begins to pick up the pieces, but then she laughs a cruel, disturbingly sexy laugh and puts her earbuds in. She takes a pack of Marlboros and a lighter from her apron pocket. She lights up, puffs, and looks out the north-facing windows. No doubt finding streaks. As she stubs her cigarette into a cracked water glass, she begins humming along to “Enter Sandman.” En route to her squeegee, she steps on a shard of the salad plate Jules dropped—it’s the size of a small pie slice. She puts it in her apron pocket, with her gun.

Camera 34

The Killer arrives on the nineteenth floor via the secret elevator. He’s in the walk-in refrigerator, behind the juice concentrate. He hits the controller button; the shelves slide. He moves to exit the walk-in refrigerator. Stops. He surveys the shelves’ contents. Opens drawers, poking choice cuts of meat with his knife, not finding what he’s looking for. He exits the walk-in refrigerator and enters the kitchen, passing shining steel surfaces. The pantry door is ajar. He sticks his head in and emerges with a box of Cheez-Its. He opens the box, cuts the inner bag with his knife, and feeds the savory orange squares under the chin of his mask. Eventually he ambles to the ballroom door and looks in, at Delores.

Camera 12

Jules and Justin are in the main elevator. They said nothing to Delores; she passed them with a wide berth. Jules and Justin say nothing to each other. Jules reaches for her Xanax automatically, stops herself, and scratches her nose. Then she holds her nose, cupping it, glad it’s still there. She’s aware that the prettiest crystal is the most breakable, that its destruction is the most complete, that splinters of it could have torn her skin like a razor on a ripe plum. Justin blinks every five seconds, as if he’s focusing on blinking at a set interval of time, as if focusing on how many seconds have passed were a marvelous alternative to thinking about how he could have disfigured his wife not two minutes ago.

Camera 4

Brian and Tessa are still holding hands. Their hands are twining. Their hands are fairly writhing. His thumb digs at her palm. Her palm shakes. Tessa’s other hand touches her own lips. She touches her own right breast, above the nipple, and flutters her blouse. I look at the security counter. At the override system: a sixteen-inch screen with no keypad or other obvious access. The screen is dark now, lifeless. But if one were to input the correct authorization codes, everything in Manderley, including the elevator, would suddenly be under the complete control of one man and his dexterous finger. There’s a pencil. It’s ten inches from my face, on the counter. I could almost scream; I almost do. I would, except—