Control: Out of the Box (The Girl in the Box Book 38) by Robert J. Crane

Author:Robert J. Crane [Crane, Robert J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Ostiagard Press
Published: 2020-01-02T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Morris Johannsen

It couldn't possibly get any worse.

“Dear God,” Morris Johannsen breathed, torn between watching the television feed in the corner of his office and glancing down at the Escapade app on his phone, which he squeezed tightly in his hand.

It was all falling apart. He'd just been called out – on national television, no less!

Was it hot in here? It certainly felt hot.

Johannsen was standing behind his desk, staring at the feed when the knock at the door almost sent him into a panic attack. Was that tightness in his chest?

“What?” he shrilled.

“Hey boss,” his secretary, Rita, said. She was a woman in her late thirties, and she had an almost pitying expression on her face. “Sorry to bother you, but...”

Johannsen swallowed. “Have you any idea what you are interrupting?” His voice was high, even to his own ears. Such was his panic.

She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. There were a couple TVs in the bullpen, and yes, they were tuned, live, to the events at the reflecting pool. His own reporters were sneaking glances at him over Rita's shoulder. Whispering. Wondering about him.

“What is it?” he cried plaintively. If only he could get her out of here and get back to the business at hand. He locked his phone, putting it down. The Network could wait. After all, none of them were facing being outed.

Johannsen could barely see in front of his nose at this point. His breath was coming heavy, knees feeling a little wobbly.

“There's a delivery for you,” Rita said. She looked like she wanted to turn and run from his office as fast as possible. “It requires your signature.”

He took five breaths in three seconds. Was he hyperventilating? It seemed likely. “Not now,” he said, waving her off.

Rita hesitated. “He insisted. Said you needed to sign for it...?”

“I don't feel up to signing for anything right now!” Johannsen cried. “Just leave me b–”

Johannsen wobbled as a stabbing pain shot through the center of his chest. He clutched at himself, trying to find the knife that had surely just been plunged there–

There was no knife. No blood. His fingers came away wet, but only from the sweat that already slicked them.

Johannsen looked up, panicked, at Rita. His breath was gone, and he gasped.

“Mr. Johannsen...?” Rita asked.

Johannsen tumbled back into his chair, the frame squeaking under the sudden violence of his entire weight, and it slid back a foot. He twitched in the chair, jerking and spasming as the pain overwhelmed him, a hot blade plunged into his chest and twisted, turned, ripping through flesh–

But there was no blood. His vision blackened at the corners, but it was all pain, all pain and no blood and he couldn't breathe–

“Mr. Johannsen!” Rita shrieked from somewhere in the darkness surrounding him. “Call the paramedics! He's having a heart attack!”

The last thing that passed through Morris Johannsen's mind before he tumbled off the chair and lay, dying, upon the floor, was the realization that at least he'd gone out before it had gotten any worse.

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