Between the lines - part 2 continued
After the commercial break...
They were in the chopper before Dominic had time to reflect on how bizarre an experience the first imprint was. Part technology, part ritual - it had left him feeling more than a little unsettled. The wording didn’t help, he wasn’t a man who expected to be trusted, in the world he was used to truth was very far from absolute; almost exactly the opposite in fact. He didn’t like the sense of responsibility that settled over him at the knowledge that Anthony, or Victor, or Kevin Rodrigues from the special taskforce on people trafficking, would trust Laurence Dominic with his life.
“I’m patching through Ms DeWitt for you,” the pilot announceed and he was more than glad of the distraction.
“We have located them, they’re heading out of the state. The pilot has the co-ordinates but I’m going to try to delay their progress a little to give you a better chance to catch with them.”
Apparently that was all she was prepared to say on the subject. “She’s going to try to buy us some time,” he told his companion. “What does that mean?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Someone had closed the Interstate. There were cranes, workman and a log-jam of frustrated drivers. As the helicopter touched down he spotted the truck they were looking for, like everyone else it was going nowhere. “Damn,” he said in frustrated admiration because the logical conclusion was that in a very short time Adelle DeWitt had arranged for the closure of a major highway.
The imprint came with SWAT experience - he knew this because Topher told him so two or three times. Even without the posturing Dominic realised that he needed to let Anthony lead, if only to see how this worked. It’s subtle but there was definitely a difference in him; his body language had changed, he moved differently and his tone was slightly more commanding. He was calling the shots but Dominic recognised the way he did it, like the senior agent talking to his partner, someone who’s opinion he respected. He could definitely live with that.
The closed road was a fast way to fray tempers but the noise and the confusion gave them cover - even if they were concerned about the far too many bystanders who could get caught in the cross fire. “We’re in position,” Anthony, who was also Victor and Rodrigues said - relaying the information back to Langton who presumably also had Echo on the line. “On your mark.”
Dominic narrowed his eyes, watching for any indication that the two men in the front of the truck knew they were coming. This had to be clean and fast because it would only take one wrong move to lead to carnage in the back of the truck.
Anthony, who he couldn’t remember to call Victor, mouthed the word, “go” and he surged forward - enjoying the kick of adrenaline. His gun was touching the temple of the guy in the passenger seat before he even knew what had hit him. “Do not make a sound.” Victor said, his own gun pointing directly into the face of the driver. “How does the back open?”
“Padlock,” the man replied through gritted teeth. Letting two of Langton’s security officers take their place, they slipped around to the back. Victor picked the padlock quickly and quietly and their shorthand gave a countdown.
There were three men with guns in the back; Dominic clipped one in the knee as he tried to use one of the dozen screaming girls for cover. Victor’s opening shot took down the second and the third guy had his hands up so high there was no question that he had surrendered.
He concentrated on making sure all the weapons were removed while his partner switched easily between languages to communicate with the terrified women. When he shoved their prisoners outside so they could be cuffed, he realised that the traffic was moving again; the mysterious problem fixed. As an enormous truck trundled past one of the foreman raised a hand in greeting, leaving Dominic to wonder what you had to do to pull strings, or call in a favour, that enabled you to close a major highway in less than 30 minutes.
He looked up at the sound of an approaching motorbike and wasn’t all that surprised when Caroline hopped off the back. “You two look like you had fun,” she smirked at him. “Thanks for the assist.”
“I’d say anytime, but I have a feeling you’ll hold me to it.”
“She will anyway,” Ballard offered.
“Is this everyone?” He asked and Caroline nodded, her expression grim.
“It’s enough, this ring is out of business and one of them will role over on their bosses.”
“So, what’s the plan now?” Victor asked. “We can’t hold onto them.”
“Prosecutor in Sacremento.” Caroline said, with a tight smile, “they’re looking forward to a long conversation with these guys. They’re on their way and they aren’t planning on asking the concerned citizens who stopped both vans too many questions. I’ll talk to them.”
“And the girls?”
“DeWitt made a call - some hot shot attorneys are handling that side of things; they’ll make sure anyone who wants to gets home, handle the immigration issues. It’s taken care of.”
In his experience operations didn’t end so cleanly, so easily - and he doesn’t know what to make of the fact that this one had. “I know it’s not what you’re used to,” Ballard was probably the only one who really understood. “It freaked me out at first as well. But there’s no follow through, no tying up loose ends and definitely no paperwork.”
“We’ve just broken the law.”
“Not really, the guns are licensed and a group of concerned citizens just prevented over 20 vulnerable young women from being taken out of state against their will. It’s hard to get inside trafficking rings - we just gave the good guys a hell of a break.”
“So what does that make us?”
“I haven’t decided that yet,” Ballard replied, “but it’s not keeping me awake at night.”
The handover was as fast and efficient as everything else had been. Caroline and Ballard talked to the team from Sacremento, taking them off to pick up the rest of the detained men. It was their show so he was happy to keep a low profile. The helicopter was long gone but a black van was waiting and he tumbled into the back - trying to process what he had just been part of.
Back at what he refused to describe as their underground lair he followed his charge to the imprint room and waited, not all the patiently, while Topher fiddled and tweaked until he declared himself satisfied and the imprint was removed. Anthony grinned up at him from the chair. “I think we deserve a beer.”
Less than half an hour later the two of them were tucked into a corner of kitchens that looked as though they belonged in an upscale restaurant. Anthony had beer, he had a glass of very good scotch and they are busy demolishing what were possibly the best sandwiches he had ever eaten.
“How does this all get paid for?” he asked Anthony. “None of it comes cheap?” It was possibly a little late to be wondering if he’d joined some sort of criminal gang.
“DeWitt handles all of that,” Anthony shrugged. “I think I heard something about technology and a guy who died a while back.”
It wasn’t much of an answer and he was more intrigued than ever; but clearly he’d have to go elsewhere for answers. Though there was one question that Anthony could definitely help him with. “What’s it like? Being imprinted?” Anthony took a long sip of his beer, considering his answer.
“It takes some getting used to, I’m still in there but there’s another voice - maybe it’s like having multiple personality disorder. When I first started it gave me a headache just thinking about it. But you get used to it and it depends how full the imprint is. Sometimes, like today, all that really happens is that there are extra skills and knowledge that you didn’t have. Other times, your whole personality has to be different - you have to lose some of who you are, because it’s inconsistent. When it’s like that it’s more of a fight for dominance and you have to learn to let go. You have to trust that you’ll still be in there, somewhere and that they'll put you back together afterwards.” It was easily the most he’d said so far and Dominic wasn’t sure he could imagine a scenario when he could ever generate that level of trust. “It’s like with your unit, you know? If you don’t trust in them you have nothing.”
He let that thought lie for a moment - it wasn’t something he really wanted to dwell on. “How’d you end up here?” He’d read Anthony’s file; so he knew some of the official story but he wanted to hear it from the man himself.
“I guess you know, about my tour?” At Dominic’s short nod he took another sip of beer, “I was pretty messed up after, I wanted to go back - for them you know? But I couldn’t. I was thinking of signing up for private security work, in the green zone - I’d probably have got myself killed pretty fast if DeWitt hadn’t found me.”
“She found you? How?”
“I’m not sure, maybe my old CO. Someone like that. She finds everyone - handlers too.” At that he tipped his beer bottle in Dominic’s direction.
“Is this really what you want to be dong?”
“For now, I needed to do something to help, to make up for…” He didn’t finish the sentence, didn’t need to. “Besides, if I hadn’t been here I wouldn’t have met Priya.”
“Who’s Priya?”
“My girlfriend.” His smile was suddenly broad, “she’s pretty amazing.”
“You have a girlfriend?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence there, man. She wants to meet you - she likes to know who’s watching my back. Plus she was upset when Marty died.” Marty, Dominic knew, was his predecessor.
Watching Anthony's expression soften as he talked about Priya made him feel incredibly old and jaded. His mind went to old failings and missed chances and what he might have given up over the years. Even though for the most part he couldn't see beyond getting Balthazar, for the first time a small part of him wondered what would come after that. He'd thrown his lot in with these people for a single purpose - but at some point he would have to consider what he wanted the rest of his life to be like. It was disquieting how few answers he had to that question.
"So, you told her about this place?"
"Didn't have much of a choice. I was imprinted as an art expert when we met. I know zip about art - she'd have noticed."
"How did you meet?"
"DeWitt had us go to some party, rich guy throwing his weight around to impress the impoverished artist he'd 'discovered' - that was Priya. He was taking it pretty seriously, but I could tell she wasn't interested in him. It wasn't her scene. You ever met someone and just feel a spark?"
"No," he replied blandly - though it was not entirely the truth.
"Well it was like that for Priya and me - even with the imprint. I couldn't stop thinking about her but when I tried to find her, she'd disappeared. The guy had all these contacts with Rossum, he was a big investor - that's why DeWitt was interested in the first place. We found her in one of their facilities, drugged to the eyeballs. They were going to wipe her and turn her into some sort of sex slave for him and his friends. We got her out."
"And the guy?"
"Got caught in the cross fire." There was nothing more to say, so he lifted his glass in silent toast. No matter what she might say on the subject there were, apparently, some occasions when Adelle DeWitt didn’t question the delivery of justice by her people. It was a useful piece of information.
He doesn’t dispute the other man's right to have a personal life, but he wasn't sure he entirely approved. It was risky.
"I know it's not a good idea," Anthony said, "believe me - I've been told. Technically it's against policy - but I'm not sure how strictly that particular rule is enforced."
"Ballard and Caroline?" He asked - hazarding a guess. Anthony shrugged.
"Even I don't know the answer to that one. They're close, no doubt about that. Paul's in pretty deep, but I have no idea what goes on in Caroline's head. None of us do." He grinned, as though there was some inside joke Dominic wasn't privy to.
"Next you'll be telling me DeWitt is married with a couple of kids." He was actually proud that there was not an iota of curiosity in his tone as he made a veiled enquiry about her marital status.
"She could be, for all any of us know. She doesn't give a lot away; ice water in her veins that one." Dominic wasn't sure that he agreed exactly, but maybe he hadn't been here long enough to really tell if she was made of ice, or if she had just built up her defences to give that impression. "I know she pretty much lives here."
Once his beer was gone Anthony was keen to get home to Priya and Dominic didn't stop him. Things were going to get pretty intense now he was sure they are ready to go after Balthazar. He was thinking about heading out himself; strolling across the atrium - wondering for the 9th or 10th time if there were fish in the pools or not, when he caught sight of DeWitt. She seemed to be heading in the direction of Topher's lab and for no real reason he waited until she went inside before following her.
But when he stepped into the lab, only Topher was there. "I thought I saw DeWitt heading this way?"
"No, Topher shook his head, "just me." He grinned, "you know eyesight is one of the first things to go." He laughed nervously, his eyes flicking to the wall in one corner of the room. "What did you want DeWitt for?"
"To tell her that you won't be living long enough to have your eyesight go." He snapped back.
The wall looked solid, but if it concealed some sort of secret passage then it would. It was clear he wouldn’t get close to it with Topher there, though the idea of knocking him out had a certain appeal. He didn't know why he was surprised to find that there were more secrets here than he had yet uncovered.
Adelle DeWitt walked slowly along the dimly lit corridor. The path was familiar and she enjoyed the cool air, the slight hint of antiseptic in the air.
It had been a long day, but one that had contained a few successes. Twenty young women were safe and receiving the help they needed and they had inflicted some damage on a rather nasty group of people traffickers. No doubt by tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, they would be back in business - or someone would have taken their place. But for today it was a victory to be savoured.
Added to that, her new team had performed admirably in an emergency and she had rather enjoyed seeing Mr Dominic challenge Langton. His ability to think on the spot and to follow through boded well.
She hesitated, her step faltering and she reminded herself to be careful. She'd come dangerously close to enjoying their interaction earlier; to enjoying talking to him and solving the problem together. She couldn't allow herself to get involved; the actives and their handlers were valuable and to be protected, but they came second to the mission - as everything did. She of all people could never allow herself to forget that.
Picking up her pace as the corridor sloped downwards she moved briskly towards her destination. Thinking, as she always did, that it was an irony that the deepest level underground contained the facility known as 'the attic'. Leaning forward she pressed her eye to a retinal scanner - a heavy metal lock clicked and the door swung open to admit her.
The quiet beep of machinery and the lights of the displays and monitors were soothing and she nodded a greeting to the young doctor on duty - taking a file from her and reviewing its contents.
Satisfied that everything was as it should be, she surveyed this particular part of her kingdom - her gaze falling on the see through chamber filled with liquid and the body suspended within it. She stepped closer, checking the readings out of habit, before kicking off her high heels and curling into a comfortable armchair beside the chamber. She leant her head back as quiet music filled the air. It was Bach tonight - not her favourite.
"Hello Clyde," she murmured softly, "and how has your day been?"
They were in the chopper before Dominic had time to reflect on how bizarre an experience the first imprint was. Part technology, part ritual - it had left him feeling more than a little unsettled. The wording didn’t help, he wasn’t a man who expected to be trusted, in the world he was used to truth was very far from absolute; almost exactly the opposite in fact. He didn’t like the sense of responsibility that settled over him at the knowledge that Anthony, or Victor, or Kevin Rodrigues from the special taskforce on people trafficking, would trust Laurence Dominic with his life.
“I’m patching through Ms DeWitt for you,” the pilot announceed and he was more than glad of the distraction.
“We have located them, they’re heading out of the state. The pilot has the co-ordinates but I’m going to try to delay their progress a little to give you a better chance to catch with them.”
Apparently that was all she was prepared to say on the subject. “She’s going to try to buy us some time,” he told his companion. “What does that mean?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Someone had closed the Interstate. There were cranes, workman and a log-jam of frustrated drivers. As the helicopter touched down he spotted the truck they were looking for, like everyone else it was going nowhere. “Damn,” he said in frustrated admiration because the logical conclusion was that in a very short time Adelle DeWitt had arranged for the closure of a major highway.
The imprint came with SWAT experience - he knew this because Topher told him so two or three times. Even without the posturing Dominic realised that he needed to let Anthony lead, if only to see how this worked. It’s subtle but there was definitely a difference in him; his body language had changed, he moved differently and his tone was slightly more commanding. He was calling the shots but Dominic recognised the way he did it, like the senior agent talking to his partner, someone who’s opinion he respected. He could definitely live with that.
The closed road was a fast way to fray tempers but the noise and the confusion gave them cover - even if they were concerned about the far too many bystanders who could get caught in the cross fire. “We’re in position,” Anthony, who was also Victor and Rodrigues said - relaying the information back to Langton who presumably also had Echo on the line. “On your mark.”
Dominic narrowed his eyes, watching for any indication that the two men in the front of the truck knew they were coming. This had to be clean and fast because it would only take one wrong move to lead to carnage in the back of the truck.
Anthony, who he couldn’t remember to call Victor, mouthed the word, “go” and he surged forward - enjoying the kick of adrenaline. His gun was touching the temple of the guy in the passenger seat before he even knew what had hit him. “Do not make a sound.” Victor said, his own gun pointing directly into the face of the driver. “How does the back open?”
“Padlock,” the man replied through gritted teeth. Letting two of Langton’s security officers take their place, they slipped around to the back. Victor picked the padlock quickly and quietly and their shorthand gave a countdown.
There were three men with guns in the back; Dominic clipped one in the knee as he tried to use one of the dozen screaming girls for cover. Victor’s opening shot took down the second and the third guy had his hands up so high there was no question that he had surrendered.
He concentrated on making sure all the weapons were removed while his partner switched easily between languages to communicate with the terrified women. When he shoved their prisoners outside so they could be cuffed, he realised that the traffic was moving again; the mysterious problem fixed. As an enormous truck trundled past one of the foreman raised a hand in greeting, leaving Dominic to wonder what you had to do to pull strings, or call in a favour, that enabled you to close a major highway in less than 30 minutes.
He looked up at the sound of an approaching motorbike and wasn’t all that surprised when Caroline hopped off the back. “You two look like you had fun,” she smirked at him. “Thanks for the assist.”
“I’d say anytime, but I have a feeling you’ll hold me to it.”
“She will anyway,” Ballard offered.
“Is this everyone?” He asked and Caroline nodded, her expression grim.
“It’s enough, this ring is out of business and one of them will role over on their bosses.”
“So, what’s the plan now?” Victor asked. “We can’t hold onto them.”
“Prosecutor in Sacremento.” Caroline said, with a tight smile, “they’re looking forward to a long conversation with these guys. They’re on their way and they aren’t planning on asking the concerned citizens who stopped both vans too many questions. I’ll talk to them.”
“And the girls?”
“DeWitt made a call - some hot shot attorneys are handling that side of things; they’ll make sure anyone who wants to gets home, handle the immigration issues. It’s taken care of.”
In his experience operations didn’t end so cleanly, so easily - and he doesn’t know what to make of the fact that this one had. “I know it’s not what you’re used to,” Ballard was probably the only one who really understood. “It freaked me out at first as well. But there’s no follow through, no tying up loose ends and definitely no paperwork.”
“We’ve just broken the law.”
“Not really, the guns are licensed and a group of concerned citizens just prevented over 20 vulnerable young women from being taken out of state against their will. It’s hard to get inside trafficking rings - we just gave the good guys a hell of a break.”
“So what does that make us?”
“I haven’t decided that yet,” Ballard replied, “but it’s not keeping me awake at night.”
The handover was as fast and efficient as everything else had been. Caroline and Ballard talked to the team from Sacremento, taking them off to pick up the rest of the detained men. It was their show so he was happy to keep a low profile. The helicopter was long gone but a black van was waiting and he tumbled into the back - trying to process what he had just been part of.
Back at what he refused to describe as their underground lair he followed his charge to the imprint room and waited, not all the patiently, while Topher fiddled and tweaked until he declared himself satisfied and the imprint was removed. Anthony grinned up at him from the chair. “I think we deserve a beer.”
Less than half an hour later the two of them were tucked into a corner of kitchens that looked as though they belonged in an upscale restaurant. Anthony had beer, he had a glass of very good scotch and they are busy demolishing what were possibly the best sandwiches he had ever eaten.
“How does this all get paid for?” he asked Anthony. “None of it comes cheap?” It was possibly a little late to be wondering if he’d joined some sort of criminal gang.
“DeWitt handles all of that,” Anthony shrugged. “I think I heard something about technology and a guy who died a while back.”
It wasn’t much of an answer and he was more intrigued than ever; but clearly he’d have to go elsewhere for answers. Though there was one question that Anthony could definitely help him with. “What’s it like? Being imprinted?” Anthony took a long sip of his beer, considering his answer.
“It takes some getting used to, I’m still in there but there’s another voice - maybe it’s like having multiple personality disorder. When I first started it gave me a headache just thinking about it. But you get used to it and it depends how full the imprint is. Sometimes, like today, all that really happens is that there are extra skills and knowledge that you didn’t have. Other times, your whole personality has to be different - you have to lose some of who you are, because it’s inconsistent. When it’s like that it’s more of a fight for dominance and you have to learn to let go. You have to trust that you’ll still be in there, somewhere and that they'll put you back together afterwards.” It was easily the most he’d said so far and Dominic wasn’t sure he could imagine a scenario when he could ever generate that level of trust. “It’s like with your unit, you know? If you don’t trust in them you have nothing.”
He let that thought lie for a moment - it wasn’t something he really wanted to dwell on. “How’d you end up here?” He’d read Anthony’s file; so he knew some of the official story but he wanted to hear it from the man himself.
“I guess you know, about my tour?” At Dominic’s short nod he took another sip of beer, “I was pretty messed up after, I wanted to go back - for them you know? But I couldn’t. I was thinking of signing up for private security work, in the green zone - I’d probably have got myself killed pretty fast if DeWitt hadn’t found me.”
“She found you? How?”
“I’m not sure, maybe my old CO. Someone like that. She finds everyone - handlers too.” At that he tipped his beer bottle in Dominic’s direction.
“Is this really what you want to be dong?”
“For now, I needed to do something to help, to make up for…” He didn’t finish the sentence, didn’t need to. “Besides, if I hadn’t been here I wouldn’t have met Priya.”
“Who’s Priya?”
“My girlfriend.” His smile was suddenly broad, “she’s pretty amazing.”
“You have a girlfriend?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence there, man. She wants to meet you - she likes to know who’s watching my back. Plus she was upset when Marty died.” Marty, Dominic knew, was his predecessor.
Watching Anthony's expression soften as he talked about Priya made him feel incredibly old and jaded. His mind went to old failings and missed chances and what he might have given up over the years. Even though for the most part he couldn't see beyond getting Balthazar, for the first time a small part of him wondered what would come after that. He'd thrown his lot in with these people for a single purpose - but at some point he would have to consider what he wanted the rest of his life to be like. It was disquieting how few answers he had to that question.
"So, you told her about this place?"
"Didn't have much of a choice. I was imprinted as an art expert when we met. I know zip about art - she'd have noticed."
"How did you meet?"
"DeWitt had us go to some party, rich guy throwing his weight around to impress the impoverished artist he'd 'discovered' - that was Priya. He was taking it pretty seriously, but I could tell she wasn't interested in him. It wasn't her scene. You ever met someone and just feel a spark?"
"No," he replied blandly - though it was not entirely the truth.
"Well it was like that for Priya and me - even with the imprint. I couldn't stop thinking about her but when I tried to find her, she'd disappeared. The guy had all these contacts with Rossum, he was a big investor - that's why DeWitt was interested in the first place. We found her in one of their facilities, drugged to the eyeballs. They were going to wipe her and turn her into some sort of sex slave for him and his friends. We got her out."
"And the guy?"
"Got caught in the cross fire." There was nothing more to say, so he lifted his glass in silent toast. No matter what she might say on the subject there were, apparently, some occasions when Adelle DeWitt didn’t question the delivery of justice by her people. It was a useful piece of information.
He doesn’t dispute the other man's right to have a personal life, but he wasn't sure he entirely approved. It was risky.
"I know it's not a good idea," Anthony said, "believe me - I've been told. Technically it's against policy - but I'm not sure how strictly that particular rule is enforced."
"Ballard and Caroline?" He asked - hazarding a guess. Anthony shrugged.
"Even I don't know the answer to that one. They're close, no doubt about that. Paul's in pretty deep, but I have no idea what goes on in Caroline's head. None of us do." He grinned, as though there was some inside joke Dominic wasn't privy to.
"Next you'll be telling me DeWitt is married with a couple of kids." He was actually proud that there was not an iota of curiosity in his tone as he made a veiled enquiry about her marital status.
"She could be, for all any of us know. She doesn't give a lot away; ice water in her veins that one." Dominic wasn't sure that he agreed exactly, but maybe he hadn't been here long enough to really tell if she was made of ice, or if she had just built up her defences to give that impression. "I know she pretty much lives here."
Once his beer was gone Anthony was keen to get home to Priya and Dominic didn't stop him. Things were going to get pretty intense now he was sure they are ready to go after Balthazar. He was thinking about heading out himself; strolling across the atrium - wondering for the 9th or 10th time if there were fish in the pools or not, when he caught sight of DeWitt. She seemed to be heading in the direction of Topher's lab and for no real reason he waited until she went inside before following her.
But when he stepped into the lab, only Topher was there. "I thought I saw DeWitt heading this way?"
"No, Topher shook his head, "just me." He grinned, "you know eyesight is one of the first things to go." He laughed nervously, his eyes flicking to the wall in one corner of the room. "What did you want DeWitt for?"
"To tell her that you won't be living long enough to have your eyesight go." He snapped back.
The wall looked solid, but if it concealed some sort of secret passage then it would. It was clear he wouldn’t get close to it with Topher there, though the idea of knocking him out had a certain appeal. He didn't know why he was surprised to find that there were more secrets here than he had yet uncovered.
Adelle DeWitt walked slowly along the dimly lit corridor. The path was familiar and she enjoyed the cool air, the slight hint of antiseptic in the air.
It had been a long day, but one that had contained a few successes. Twenty young women were safe and receiving the help they needed and they had inflicted some damage on a rather nasty group of people traffickers. No doubt by tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, they would be back in business - or someone would have taken their place. But for today it was a victory to be savoured.
Added to that, her new team had performed admirably in an emergency and she had rather enjoyed seeing Mr Dominic challenge Langton. His ability to think on the spot and to follow through boded well.
She hesitated, her step faltering and she reminded herself to be careful. She'd come dangerously close to enjoying their interaction earlier; to enjoying talking to him and solving the problem together. She couldn't allow herself to get involved; the actives and their handlers were valuable and to be protected, but they came second to the mission - as everything did. She of all people could never allow herself to forget that.
Picking up her pace as the corridor sloped downwards she moved briskly towards her destination. Thinking, as she always did, that it was an irony that the deepest level underground contained the facility known as 'the attic'. Leaning forward she pressed her eye to a retinal scanner - a heavy metal lock clicked and the door swung open to admit her.
The quiet beep of machinery and the lights of the displays and monitors were soothing and she nodded a greeting to the young doctor on duty - taking a file from her and reviewing its contents.
Satisfied that everything was as it should be, she surveyed this particular part of her kingdom - her gaze falling on the see through chamber filled with liquid and the body suspended within it. She stepped closer, checking the readings out of habit, before kicking off her high heels and curling into a comfortable armchair beside the chamber. She leant her head back as quiet music filled the air. It was Bach tonight - not her favourite.
"Hello Clyde," she murmured softly, "and how has your day been?"