The Watchtower Affair: Up the Stairs We Go

Part 4
The Watchtower Affair - Now You See It, Now You Don't

Bridgette's Diary
13 February, 1925

(cont...)

            Once inside we noticed the others standing near the reception desk, interrogating the receptionist seated there. The woman was beautiful, with bobbed blonde hair and fashionable clothes. She also appeared to be looking off into the distance, reminding me of what had occurred aboard Belle’s plane just a short while ago.

            Mr. Rasicci was asking the woman, Miss. Dallas, who used the building. He was also questioning her on who owned it. Even in my current dazed state, it was fascinating to watch him at work. It inspired confidence in his abilities. One of the last questions I heard him ask Miss. Dallas concerned whether or not anyone else had come into the building recently. A thoughtful look crossed her face before she gave her head a slight shake. “No, I don’t think there’s been anyone in quite a while. Except for you of course.”

            Mr. Rasicci appeared ready to ask her another question when the elevator chimed and out walked a couple of security guards, or hired thugs. In this case I’m pretty sure it was one and the same. They were a mass of muscle-bound, arms and shoulders straining at the seams of their suit coats. Coming over our direction, they asked if there was anything they could help us with. Another security guard/thug cames bounding out of the stairwell as Mr. Smith took the lead with the mob men. (What else could they be, really?) Ever direct, he askes, “Have you seen the two hoodlums who came running in here? Not quite 10 minutes ago now.” He jerked his thumb towards the elevator to indicate the probable direction they must have taken.

            The three thick necked gents looked at each other and shook their heads before one responds. “Nope. Ain’t seen anyone come in here in the last hour.” He looked at his buddies once more. “But maybe we should check it out.”

            With a nod in our general direction, they all headed back the way they had originally come.

            Diary, I was still quite shaken up by the recent turn of events. Even now, I can’t fully remember we were or even why we were there. Keira had suggested that I needed to analyze the window glass on what seemed to be the 4^th floor, although I’d no idea why I would be analyzing window glass. However, it gave me a focus point, so, letting Keira know where I was headed, I walked past the rest of the group and headed for the door to the stairwell. Something about the stairwell seemed so much safer than the elevators in that building. I’ve always thought it would be easy to trap someone on an elevator. Since this building gave me such a sense of foreboding, I decide to go with my gut feeling and avoid them.

            As I entered the stairwell, I could hear Mr. Smith mentioning a similar case in London involving Big Ben several years ago. He was trying to recall other details as I headed up the stairs. My hope was that things would become clearer as I went.

            I learned afterwards that three large cars had pulled up outside the building. A number of mobsters spilled out and headed inside. Included in the group was the second in command for the Chicago Mafia. Mr. Rasicci apparently has one of the most amazing talents. Right before everyone else in our little group, he proceeded to transform himself into the mob chief of the city, engaging the lieutenant in conversation as the men outside came through the front doors. They all proceeded to converse while heading for the elevator. The doors closed and they were all on their way up to see “The Man.” What happened next was really a bit extraordinary and I promise to come back to it again in my narrative. First we should return to the stairwell.

With every step upwards, I began feeling more and more disoriented. It culminated on the 5^th floor landing. If I had counted correctly, and I’m pretty sure I had been, this should have been the 4^th floor - not that I could remember seeing any other doors between the first floor and here. At some point, the walls had taken on a kaleidoscopic patterned swirl of greens and reds, all in constant motion. It started faintly at first, but continued to becoming more and more prominent as I worked my way upwards. By the time I reached the 5^th floor door, my head was spinning, and I was disoriented, and nauseated by the mass of moving colors.

I began to panic, just a little as I paused that the door for a moment. Taking a deep breath while trying to steady myself, I debated the wisdom of entering further into the building. The sense of evil, of wrongness, seemed to pervade the very fabric of the walls, making it very tempting to turn tail and leave very quickly. I dreaded continuing onward and yet hesitated to turn back. As I stood there struggling with myself, there came a sharp, sting on the back of my right ankle. Looking down, I saw a scorpion that had apparently just stung me.

Kicking it away, I examined my ankle to get an idea of just how much damage the little beast had done. The horror continued as I then realized that my clothing was gone. It had simply disappeared. I’m standing there, outside of what should be the 4^th floor door, but instead appeared to be the 5^th floor door, having been stung by an insect that shouldn’t be here in this area, and I’m naked. The swirling walls seemed to close in around me as I huddled in the corner, rocking back and forth vainly attempting to wish it all away.

            “It isn’t real,” I muttered to myself over and over. “None of this is real. Something is playing with my mind. There was no scorpion. The walls are not swirling. And I’m not really naked. My clothing can’t just disappear. It is not real.”