Coffee by gren blackall

such
entryways into the Rotunda, evenly spaced. Three had security guard
stations, but this one opened freely into a wide hotel-like lobby.
They traversed an ornate gathering place, filled with plants and
soft chairs around small cocktail tables. To her left, the high
glass doors and windows allowed a view across a pleasant internal
courtyard. An outdoor pool was surrounded with lounge chairs and
colorful umbrellas. In the distance, she could see the nets of at
least five tennis courts, and what looked like a running track. To
her right, signs indicated they had a health spa, an indoor pool,
and racquetball courts.
    Happy
smiling faces crisscrossed the room. ‘If they only knew I was
a hostage! They wouldn’t be so happy,’ she thought. She
wanted to grab someone and tell them, or just start screaming wildly
for help. But then an even more horrible thought occurred to her -
maybe they all knew. Maybe she was surrounded by thousands of evil
workers, all in on the dastardly schemes of their employers. But
she saw married couples, children, teenagers. They seemed so
normal. This looked like any Saturday morning in a busy condo. A
busy rich condo, she thought.
    Her
apartment was on the 4th floor, about half way down the main
hallway. Bart opened the door, and pocketed the key. He offered to
hold it open for her so she could pass, but Etty simply waited until
he let go before she entered.
    “Nice,
huh?” Bart said with open arms and upturned hands, as if it
were all from him. Etty refused to acknowledge. Her upbringing in
Nashua never afforded her more than a low to middle class existence,
and life as a scholarship student bordered on poverty. Under
different circumstances, she might have been quite impressed.
    The
apartment had five full rooms, as many as her parent’s entire
home. Looking across the livingroom, she could see the Dallas
skyline through the row of tall windows. Two large bedrooms entered
from the right, and an open entry led to the spacious kitchen to the
left. Furniture filled every room - comfortable couches, a blond
maple dining room set in a nook, and a gorgeous four poster bed in
her master bedroom. “Nice and bright,” she finally
admitted.
    “Well,
I gotta run. Remember to call Mr. McKinsey when you’re ready
for a meeting. He’ll probably call for me, since I somehow
have the honor of being your private valet.”
    Bart
opened the door and exited, but before closing he called back,
“Etty, I hope you understand, I am locking this from the
outside. Security reasons.”
    “What
if there’s a fire?” she yelled at him.
    “There
won’t be,” and shut the door.

    - Chapter Seven -

    Etty
walked out on the balcony to catch some of the balmy air. Winter
had hit Hanover in force, so the Spring like sun and flowery aromas
pleased her. Below, she could hear children horseplaying by the
pool - incongruous with her prison setting.
    She
found the shower, but changed her mind seeing the huge bath equipped
with water jets. While hot water filled the tub, steam condensed on
all the windows. She plopped down on the large bed to wait, sinking
deeply into the down comforter. She wanted to hate everything, but
couldn’t resist a moment of relative peace.
    Then
she remembered they had a phone. She rolled over found it on the
shelf of the night stand. She quickly dialed Knut. An electronic
operator requested her security code, and then advised her that no
outside calls could be made without one. Although not surprised,
she still slammed the phone down.
    Soon
the bath was full. Still afraid of viewing devices, she took
special care not to expose herself. She undressed with a large
cotton bathrobe draped over her shoulders. She poured in bubble soap
and whipped it up with the jets to build a head of suds. She quickly
slipped in, leaving the bathrobe on the edge of the tub.

    

    Nearly
an hour later, somewhat calmed, she decided to face McKinsey. Her
fingers had so many wrinkles from the bath water, she