TMB V: Going Down

I arrived ten minutes early at Mr. _______________'s office, so I decided to take a short rest on a bench in the small park on the other side of the street and get some fresh air. "Hill Street" was our code name for this park, due to its lone little hill on its far side. A Justice's statue was perched on a pedestal in the middle of it, of all things. But the local pigeons seemed to love it. What Justice thought of them, I didn't know.

We never spelled out Mr. _______________'s name. Judy, back in the office, was the only living person I knew who could somehow pronounce that accumulation of blanks anyway. But most times, and for convenience's sake, we just called him Mr. X, in order to have a name. Indeed, our clients ranged from A to X, with an occasional vacant letter in between, but Mr. X was meant to be "Mr. X", for he was the most secretive member of the already very secretive clientele of our fairly secretive service. If anyone was worthy to bear that most classical of code names, it was him.

For a few minutes, I banished all thoughts from my overcrowded brain and luxuriated in the pleasant sensation of an empty mind. I took off my jacket and rolled up my sleeves. The warmth of the sun felt good on my skin. Too many things had happened in the last 24 hours, and I was still worried. But I needed to keep a level head. Mr. X was a tough guy.

A minute before the appointed time, I casually strolled over to the building. I donned my jacket again and checked my tie in my reflection on the wide glass doors before entering the lobby. The upper stories were occupied by a variety of company offices. Big copper and bronze name plates on a column in the middle of the entrance hall proclaimed their presence. Mr. X didn't have a plate. On the one hand, it would have been a bit silly to have a name plate having "Mr. X" etched on it in big capital letters, and on the other hand he didn't occupy a regular office at this place. He preferred more inconspicuous accommodations.

So I skipped the elevator and headed for the stairs. The office building was well cared for, neat and tidy and not a speckle of dust anywhere. Even down in the basement it was so clean, you could have eaten from the floor or performed surgery in the boiler room, or operated an office in the coal bunker, which was an interesting and not-so-farfetched idea indeed.

I entered the abandoned coal bunker. Even here, not a bit of coal dust, not even in the corners. I headed for a heavy, reinforced steel door, placed unobtrusively in a far corner. After I had gathered myself for a moment, I pushed one of the rivets. It slid slightly inwards, just like a button, although, in appearance, it differed not the least from all the other, very real rivets this door boasted with. I didn’t know what would have happened if I had entered the door without pushing the rivet before, thus signalling my arrival, but it had been made quite clear to me that this rivet needed to be pushed. It was meant to be pushed. That was its sole purpose in its rivet-life. Furthermore, I had been assured that I really didn't want to find out anyway. So I believed them. After all, if anyone knew this door, it was them.

Behind the door stretched a brightly lit, narrow and fairly short corridor, with another steel door on the other end and a large mirror on the left hand side, reaching from one end of the corridor to the other. I never found out if someone actually was on the other side, but I thought so. I faced the mirror as usual and put a wide grin on my face, then grinned at myself grinning back at me. I did that every time. I couldn't help it. The big mirror was just too alluring. Whoever there was on the other side of it, I hoped they enjoyed the show.

Some time ticked by and I was checked out or so I assumed. I suspected them to x-ray me, but I didn't really know. Someday I'd have to have a radiation check after one of these visits.

Eventually, the door on the far end of the corridor opened up the tiniest crack, and I proceeded.