Chapter 11: 11. Praying for Patience and Unsevered Limbs

When I entered Empire House the next morning and saw Sallow Face standing with a huge grin in front of the covered-up wall, I knew I was in for it. I noticed the noises behind the big tarpaulin had stopped, and that wasn't the only change. The doorway to the staircase had been blocked off with a wooden barricade, and the entire office staff was standing around, assembled, waiting.

In other words—not working.

In Mr Rikkard Ambrose's office.

Uh-oh. This can't be good.

Just then, the king of cheapskates himself stepped out of a nearby door, followed closely by Karim. The big Mohammedan's expression didn't exactly dispel my trepidation.

'Karim?' I whispered. 'Karim, what is going on?'

'The Sahib wishes to speed up the office operations,' he responded in a voice one might use to say Beware! Our death is nigh! 'Are you quick on your feet?'

'Well...maybe. I don't know.'

'Then you had better pray. May Allah protect your extremities.'

What in the name of...? What was going on?

'Ah!' Spotting me, Mr Ambrose stepped forward. 'You have arrived, Mr Linton. Adequate. Just in time for the unveiling.'

'Unveiling?' I took a cautious step backwards. 'Unveiling of what?'

'The newest technological innovation, of course. I have come to the conclusion that this office's working methods are becoming antiquated. We must keep stride with the latest technological developments if we want to remain solvent.'

'So, in other words, you have found new ways to torture your employees.'

'Torture?' He regarded me coolly. 'Certainly not. I would never torture my employees.'

'Indeed, Sir?'

'Indeed. Torture leaves one incapacitated. Incapacitated people can't work.'

'Ah.' I nodded. 'Of course. Dear me, that should have been obvious. So...' I scrutinized the covered wall, and the anxious employees standing around like a crowd at a public execution just after the executioner had shouted: 'Right, which of you buggers is next?'

I cleared my throat. 'Why exactly have you called everyone here?'

'To demonstrate the latest innovation in office technology. With it, we shall be able to save enormous amounts of time and money, with minimal casualties.'

'Minimal...what?'

Seeming not to have heard, he strode past the grinning Sallow-Face, over to the tarpaulin. 'Gentlemen, behold...' Reaching out, he grabbed hold of the tarpaulin and tugged sharply. '...the elevator!'

Silence.

And not the cold kind.

Rather...confused. Confused as heck.

My colleagues weren't the only ones who felt like that. I stared at the so-called Elly Waiter, my brow furrowed in confusion. It bore no resemblance to a waiter whatsoever. It seemed to be nothing but an opening cut into the wall, through which a metal cabin was visible. The cabin was open towards the hall, and in all other directions had solid metal walls. It just sat there, not doing anything. What the bloody hell...?

Tumultuous applause broke out from all around me. Mr Ambrose's employees were cheering, clapping, and throwing various items of headgear into the air. I leaned over to the nearest clerk.

'So...you know what this thing does?'

'No clue whatsoever!' he hissed. 'Clap! Clap already!'

I didn't clap. I doubted Mr Rikkard Ambrose would be impressed by superfluous sound-generation via hand collisions. Instead, I stepped forward and loudly and clearly asked the question I knew I was going to regret.

'What does it do?'

And whatever it does, it won't make me quit!

Mr Ambrose cocked his head.

'Simple, Mr Linton.' Reaching into a hole in the wall, he pulled on something. It sounded like a hidden lever. 'It does this.'

The screech of metal echoed through the hall. From somewhere deep beneath the stone came a rattle, and, a moment later, the metal cabin started moving upwards. And faster. And faster. Soon, it had half vanished up into the wall. No...not the wall, I realized. Rather, it went into a shaft that had been built behind the tarpaulin, all the way up to God only knew where. Well, God and Mr Ambrose. My eyes rose and rose and rose all the way up to the top of the hall. How far had the tarpaulin reached up again? I couldn't remember.

But...I still didn't know what this bloody thing was for. A metal cabin that moved upwards? What use was that, as long as there wasn't...

Only then did I notice the next metal cabin rising up behind the first. Then another came, and another. And right beside the row of shiny metal compartments, in another opening in the wall, more metal boxes were whizzing downwards, only to turn with a loud metal noise and rise up again a moment later on the other side.

'Well?' Stepping forward, Mr Ambrose regarded me. A glitter in his deliciously arctic eyes told me I should be wary.

But...I didn't really see why. As far as I could see, this was great! Really great! For once, I was impressed, and not in a bad way. Had Mr Ambrose actually done something nice? Sure, this thing would save him time—but, for once, the master of misers seemed to have done something that would also benefit his employees. Thanks to this ingenious invention, they wouldn't have to run up and down endless stairs anymore, but instead could take the time in the elevator to rest for a minute or two. It was, in a way, really very nice.

So, of course, I was instantly suspicious.

'Intriguing.' Eyes slightly narrowed, I stepped closer to the machine, gazing at the metal cabins whizzing past at a prodigious speed.

'You think so, Mr Linton?'

'Oh yes! I can't wait to try it out for the first time.'

Behind Mr Ambrose, Karim for some reason covered his face with one hand. I frowned at him, then glanced at Mr Ambrose.

'So, how does one stop it to get on?'

Cocking his head, Mr Ambrose gazed right at me. 'One doesn't.'

I froze.

'What?'

Several clerks in the audience fainted. Three people fled through the exit. Mr Ambrose paid them no heed, keeping his attention fully and completely focused on me.

'I believe I spoke quite audibly, Mr Linton.'

'But...but...you can't expect people to—'

I cut off when, before my very eyes, he stepped into the whizzing chain of metal cabins. There was a sickening thud. I watched with horror as the row of containers rose out of sight, higher and higher and higher and—

'You were saying, Mr Linton?'

'Wwaaah!'

I whirled around! There he was! Mr Rikkard Ambrose was right behind me, having just exited from the downward container shaft.

Stumbling back, I raised a quivering finger. 'You...you...!'

'...are an ingenious businessman?'

'...are insane! Completely off your rocker! That thing could hack somebody's limbs off!'

'An extremely remote possibility. I purchased the newest model with the most stable cabins, in which incidents of limb-removal have been reduced to a minimum.'

'You mean it has actually happened?'

'Seldom.'

Keeping Mr Ambrose in my sights, I leaned over to Mr Stone, who was also standing among the assembled employees. To judge by the pallor of his face, he knew a bit more than the rest of us about Mr Ambrose's newest innovation.

'How often exactly is "seldom"?' I hissed.

Mr Stone swallowed. 'Well, let me put it like this, Mr Linton. Do you know what this kind of elevator is called?'

'Two minutes ago I didn't even know there was such a thing!'

'Its name is the paternoster elevator. Paternoster, like the old Latin version of the Lord's Prayer?'

'Yes?'

'The manufacturers say that is because the metal containers are arranged like beads on a string, just like the beads used during the prayer by many Catholics. The mine workers, who have to ride them all the time, have a slightly different explanation for the origin of the name. Most of them have become very devout people very fast, and they spend a lot of time praying.'

Behind Mr Ambrose, Karim stood with his eyes closed and palms facing heavenwards, his lips moving silently. Apparently, he was already following the miners' example in his own way.

'Of course,' Mr Ambrose said, spreading his hands with what could have passed for innocence, if his face had had a way to display such emotions, 'I would never force anyone to use this innovation.'

I cocked an eyebrow. 'You wouldn't, Sir?'

'Of course not.' He met my eyes, and I could see the frosty sparkle of evil in his eyes. 'Anyone who does not wish to use it is free to render their resignation with Mr Pearson at the front desk. Only the pay for today will be deducted from their salaries. I will not stand in the way of anyone who chooses to pursue another career. After all, who knows, there might be many more interesting and fitting options out there for you than working at this office.'

Ha! You would like that, wouldn't you?

And so, apparently, did a few other people. From behind me, I heard the sound of scampering feet as more people fled the hall. Cowards! I would show them! And him, most of all!

Striding forward, I planted myself right in front of Mr Rikkard Ambrose and stared up at him. Our gazes met with an intensity that made the air around us crackle—and not just with antagonism. Not at all. I felt a familiar heat rise inside me and had to resist the urge to grab the back of his neck and drag him down for a kiss that would set the hall ablaze.

'Well, Mr Linton?' Supreme arrogance was chiselled into every immovable line of his beautiful face. Raising a hand, he gestured towards Mr Pearson's desk. The place where I was supposed to resign my post. 'What are you waiting for?'

'You're quite right.' I nodded, seeing him relax—then, I smiled at him. 'I've got work to do.' And I stepped past him, towards the paternoster.

'Wai—what are you doing? Mr Linton, don't you dare—!'

The rest of his words was lost in the rattle machinery. I turned one last time to wave at the furious business magnate marching towards me—then I jumped, and landed in the next metal container. I could do this!

'Ouff! Argh!'

Crapcrapcrap! I can't do this! I can't do this!

The feeling was like nothing else I'd ever felt before, and like nothing I ever wanted to feel again. It was as if my stomach was being pulled out of me through my toenails.

Maybe that won't last. Please don't let it last! I like my breakfast right where it is, inside my stomach, thank you!

Supporting myself against the metal wall of the cabin, I watched the masonry of the shaft whizz past at a prodigious pace. Damn that bloody, interfering cheapskate Ambrose! Why couldn't he just accept me as I was? He wanted me to stay at home? He wanted me safe? Well, I'd venture a guess this wasn't the way to do it! I had seen it in his eyes. He had never really expected me to get into this hell machine. His many, many office ants? Sure. No problem. I doubt Mr Ambrose lost much sleep over them. To lose sleep, you would first have to waste time on sleeping in the first place. But me?

I had seen the expression on his face when I had gotten on this contraption.

He really does love me.

I felt a tug at my heart.

Or was it my stomach? Oh God! Nnng! Mmm! No vomiting allowed!

The rattle of metal above me became louder and louder. I had to be approaching the top of the shaft. Which brought up the question—what exactly happened if one didn't get off in time and remained in the cabin? Was there some kind of safety mechanism that prevented passengers from being thrown around like grains of rice in a rattle when the metal box turned upside-down for its downward journey?

What do you think, Lilly? This is Mr Rikkard Ambrose you're talking about. Does he liberally spend money on safety mechanisms?

Crap.

Tensing, I moved towards the blurry bricks, waiting for the right moment. To judge by the speed with which the cabin had been moving, I didn't have much time. Any moment. Any moment now...

Now!

A flash of light appeared in front of me. I hurled myself forward and stumbled out of the paternoster just before the metal container slid up into the shaft, severing my window of opportunity, and nearly my toes along with it.

'OurFatherwhoartinheaven,hallowedbethyname.Thykingdomcome.Thywillbedone and, heck, I don't remember the rest, but thank you, thank you, thank you!'

Panting, I leaned against the nearest wall. I definitely understood now how that hellish machine had gotten its name. The urge to fall down on my knees and thank the Lord I didn't really believe in for my deliverance was nearly irresistible.

I heard a metallic rattle from behind me, and...were those footsteps? Bloody hell, had Mr Rikkard Ambrose sent another unfortunate soul up in that thing? Whirling around, I hurried forward—then froze.

Mr Rikkard Ambrose stepped out of the paternoster, eyes icy, steps determined and heading straight towards me. Before I could get out so much as a word, he had grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and pulled me towards him, enveloping me in a vice-like hug. His mouth came down on mine, devouring my lips with a fervour that nearly made my knees buckle.

'Never. Again.' The words were a growl, uttered against my mouth. 'Do you hear me, Mr Linton? Never. Ever. Again.'

'What?' I lifted an eyebrow. 'Going to work?'

Another growl erupted from his throat, and, pushing me back, he pinned me against the wall.

'Never again. Do you hear me? Never again will you use that thing.'

'You mean that thing that you installed?'

'It is too dangerous!'

'You don't say. What a genius deduction to arrive at.'

'Did you hear me, Mr Linton? Stay out of it!'

'I'm afraid I can't. I work here, after all. So that means you had better reduce the speed of the thing a little, wouldn't you say?'

A muscle in his jaw twitched. 'You think you can blackmail me?'

'Well, it worked so well last time, so I thought, why not?'

'You...you infuriating, impossible...!'

'You forgot unique, charming and loveable.'

He was on me again in an instant, not letting me get out another word. When his lips finally released me, I looked up into his eyes and saw an icy determination there.

'You will never set foot into that deathtrap again. Do you hear?'

'No can do. I will have to get up here somehow.' I blinked up at him innocently. 'Since some ingenious man whose name I won't mention had the stairs blocked off.'

His jaws worked silently as he stared into my eyes. Finally, he gave a jerk of the head.

'The speed of the paternoster will be halved.'

'Thank you very much.'

'But don't you dare use that as an excuse for laziness!'

'I wouldn't dream of it, Sir.'

'Adequate.'

I pressed a featherlight kiss on the tip of his nose. 'Well done. That wasn't so difficult, now, was it?'

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. 'Are you patronizing me, Mr Linton?'

'Of course not.' Reaching up, I patted his cheek. 'I'm a woman. I'm matronizing you. It's much more fun, believe me.'

His hands tightened around my lapels, holding me in an inescapable grip—then suddenly relaxed. Nodding, he stepped back. Cool eyes surveyed me from beneath perfect, dark brows.

'This round goes to you, Mr Linton.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'Only this round? So you haven't given up yet?'

Lightning flashed in the depths of his eyes. 'I never give up, Mr Linton. There still is time before the wedding. Today's victory may belong to you, but tomorrow's will be mine.'

'I'm pretty sure it won't be.'

'Oh?' He took a step towards me again, something deliciously threatening in his posture. 'So sure you can beat me at this game, are you?'

'No, not that.' Fishing my business calendar out of my pocket, I let it pop open. 'It's just that tomorrow, if I remember correctly....ah, yes. Tomorrow, I'll be unavoidably detained.'

'Detained? You're my employee! I say when and where you go!'

'Indeed?' I smiled. 'Well, you're welcome to explain to your mother and sister. Of course, you can just come dress shopping with us. I'm certain your mother would love the opportunity to choose something fitting for you to wear, especially a new tailcoat, since this old thing you're wearing certainly isn't suitable for a wedding, and...Mr Ambrose? Mr Ambrose, where are you going, Sir? No need to run!'

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My dear Lords, Ladies & Gentlemen,

The historical details regarding the predecessors of elevators used in this chapter are, as far as I was able to ascertain, very much historically correct. Makes you appreciate modern elevator rides, right? ;)

Oh, and the for those of you with an interest in religious studies, the informal prayer Karim performs in this chapter, I learned from feedback from my fabulously helpful Muslim readers, is called a Dua in the Islamic faith, an informal prayer that may be performed at any time in addition to the traditional five daily Salah prayers which require kneeling and facing towards Mecca. A Dua is often performed with the head leaning back and palms facing towards the heavens.

Thanks, everyone who gave me feedback! It is a real help to get information right from the source instead of books & the internet! :)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob