And in an office on the seventeenth floor. The image on the television monitor flickered and changed as Street camera#1 smoothly across the Reception cameras #2 and #3. everything was dark and shadowy inside. A man sitting behind a desk saw Leon come in and pressed a button. Camera#2 zoomed-in until Leon's face filled the screen.
"So he came." the chairman of the bank muttered.
"That's the boy?" the speaker was a middle-aged woman. She had a strange, potato-shaped head and her blonde hair looked like it had been cur using a pair of blunt scissors and an upturned bowl. Her eyes were dark blue. She was dressed in a severer gray suit and was sucking a peppermint. "Are you sure about this, Ian?" she asked.
Ian nodded. "Oh yes. Quite sure. You know what to do?" this last question was addressed to his driver, who was also in the room.
The driver was standing uncomfortably, slightly hunched over. His face was chalky white. He had been like that ever since he had tried to stop Leon in the auto Junkyard. "Yes, sir," he said.
"Then do it." Ian said. His eyes never left the screen.
In the lobby, Leon asked for Luke and was sitting on a leather sofa, vaguely wondering why so few people were going in or out. The reception area was quiet and claustrophobic, with a brown marble floor, three elevators to one side, and above the desk, a row of clocks showing the time in every major world city. But it could have been the entrance to anywhere. A hospital. A concert hall. Even a cruise liner. The place had no identity of its own.
One of the elevators opened and Luke appeared in the same suit he had worn at the funeral but with a tie. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Leon," he said, "Have you come straight from school?"
Len stood up but said nothing, allowing his uniform to answer the man's question.
Let's go up to my office," Luke said. He gestured. "We'll take the elevator."
Here we are! Luke smiled and ushered Leon out into a long corridor, with an uncarpeted wooden floor and modern lighting. A series of doors were punctuated by brightly abstract paintings. "My office is just along here." Luke pointed the way.
They had passed three doors when Leon stopped. Each door had a nameplate and this one he knew. 1677: Mark Hunter, white letters on black plastic.
Luke nodded sadly. "Yes, this is where your father worked. He will be missed. A lot'
"Can I go inside?" Leon asked.
Luke seemed surprised. "Why would you want to do that?"
"I'd be interested to see where he worked."
I'm sorry." Luke sighed. "The door will have been locked and I didn't have the key. Another time perhaps." he gestured again. He used his hand like a magician as if he were about to produce a fan of cards.
"I have the office next door. Just here…."
They entered 1678. it was a large, square room with three windows looking out over the bus station. There was a flutter of red and blue outside and Leon remembered the flag he had seen. The flag pole was right next to his office. Inside there was a desk a chair, a couple of sofas, in the corner a fridge on the wall a couple of prints. A boring executive's office. Perfect for a boring executive.
"Please, Leon sit down," Luke said. He went over to the fridge. Can I get you a drink?"
"Do you have coke?"
"Yes." Luke opened a can and filled a glass, handed it to Leon, Ice
No, thanks. Leon took a sip. It wasn't coke. It wasn't even Pepsi. He recognized the over-sweet, slightly cloying taste of supermarket cola and wished he's asked for water. "So what do you want to talk to me about?"
"Your father's will."
The phone on his desk rang and with another hand sign, this one for excuse me, Luke answered it. He spoke for a few moments, then hung up. "I'm very sorry, Leon, I have to go back down to the lobby. "Do you mind?"
Go ahead. Leon settled himself on the sofa.
"I will take about five minutes." With a final apology, Luke left.
Leon waited a few seconds. Then poured the disgusting beverage into the nearby potted plant once there was no sign of Luke. Quickly he moved out of the office and to the door of 1677 and tried the handle but Luke had been telling the truth, it was locked.
Leon went back to Luke's office. He would have given anything to spend a few minutes alone in Mark Hunter's office. Somebody thought the dead man's work was too important to keep hidden from him. They had broken into the house and cleaned out everything they'd found in the office there. Perhaps the office next door might tell him why. What exactly Mark Hunter was involved in. And was it the reason why he had been killed?
The flag fluttered again and, seeing it, Leon went over to the window. The polled jutted out of the building halfway between room 1678 and 1677, if he could somehow reach it he should be able to jump onto the ledge that ran along the side of the building outside room 1677. of course, he was fifteen floors up. If he jumped and missed, there would be a couple of hundred feet to fall. It was a stupid idea. It wasn't worth thinking about.
Leon opened the window and climbed out. It was better not to think at all. He would just do it. After all, if this was the ground floor or a jungle gym in the schoolyard it would be child's play. It was only the sheer brick wall stretching down to the pavement, the cars and buses moving like toys so far below, and the blast f wind on his face as so terrifying. don't think about it. Do it.
Leon lowered himself onto the ledge outside Luke's office. His hands were behind him, clutching onto the windowsill. He took a deep breath and jumped.
A camera in the office across the road caught Leon as he launched himself into space. Two floors above. Ian was still sitting in front of the screen. He chuckled. It was a humorless sound. "I told you," he said. "The boy's extraordinary."
"The boy's quite mad." the woman retorted
"Well, maybe that's what we need."
"You're just going to sit here and watch him kill himself?"
"I'm going to sit here and hope he survives."
Leon had miscalculated the jump. He had missed the flagpole by an inch and would have plunged down on the pavement if his hands hadn't caught hold of the flag itself. He was hanging now in midair. Slowly with huge effort, he pulled himself up, his fingers hooking on the material. Somehow he managed to climb back onto the pole. He still didn't look down. He just hoped no passerby looked up.
It was easier after that. He squatted on the pole, then threw himself sideways and across to the ledge outside Mark Hunter's office. He had to be careful. Too far to the left and he would crash into the side of the building, but too far the other way he would fall. In fact, he landed perfectly, grabbing hold of the ledge with both hands and then pulling himself up until he was level with the window. It was only now that he wondered if the window would be locked. If so, he would have to go back
It wasn't.
Leon slid the window open and hoisted himself into the second office, which was a carbon copy of the first, same furniture, same carpet, eve similar painting on the wall, he went over to the desk and the first thing he saw was a photograph of himself, taken on his first day to school. Mark Hunter had been more sentimental than he had pretended.
Leon glanced at his watch. About three minutes had passed since Luke had left the office and he said he would be back in five. If he was going to find anything here, he had to find it quickly. He pulled open a drawer in the desk. It contained four or five thick files. Leon took them and opened them. He saw at once that they had nothing to do with banking.
The first was marked: THE ROMANIA INCIDENT. Leon put it aside and looked at the second. ASSASSINATIONS. Growing over more puzzled, quickly flickered through the rest of the files, which covered details about supernatural creatures, how werewolves are born, vampire dens across America. The last file was simply labeled: VAMPIRE BLOOD TREATMENT.
Leon was about to read it when the door suddenly opened and two men walked in. One of them was Luke. The other was the driver from the junkyard. Leon knew that there was no point in trying to explain what he was doing. He was sitting behind the desk with the vampire blood treatment files open in his hands. But at the same time, he realized that the two men weren't surprised to see him there. From the way, they had come into the room. They had expected to find him.
This isn't a bank Leo said. "Who are you? Was my father working for you? Did you kill him?"
"So many questions," Luke muttered. "But I'm afraid we're not authorized to give you the answers."
The second man lifted his hand and Leon saw that he was holding a gun. He stood up behind the desk, holding the fire to protect himself. "No…" he began.
The man fired. There was no explosion. The gun spat at Leon and he felt something slam into his heart. His hand exploded and the file tumbled to the ground. Then his legs buckled, the room twisted, and he fell back into nothing.