Robyn's Egg Read Free

to work shortly.”
    Four agents converged on Hugh Sasaki’s desk. Sasaki screamed, “No, I didn’t do anything.” An agent prodded Sasaki with his wand and Sasaki convulsed to the floor. A pair of agents lifted his limp body under the arms and dragged him away. The heels of his shoes traced out a faint pair of marks across the tile from his desk to the elevator – a reminder.
    Time seemed to slow as events unfolded. Moyer’s thoughts drifted untended. The surreal scene reminded him of antique comic books his father had given him, mementos from a time when images and stories were recorded on paper. Colorful superheroes lived among fragile yellowed pages, poised to thwart dark armies. He hoped then to be a superhero one day, to discover powers he didn’t know he possessed, to be the object of admiration.
    He juxtaposed the bravery of his juvenile fantasies against his current posture, hands on desk, eyes forward, a frozen rabbit hoping it won’t be seen. In his youth, he would have thought himself capable of challenging the agent guarding his desk, capable enough to go to Hugh Sasaki’s aid. Right and wrong were simpler concepts then. Now, straightening his line of pens was all the rebellion he could muster. A layer of shame coated his fear like rancid icing on a moldy cake.
    Agents retreated in formation as if they expected a counterattack from the programmers and engineers cowering at their desks. Within minutes they were gone. Hugh Sasaki’s chair sat empty.
    An eerie silence and the fetor of terror hung in the air thick as smoke. A lone set of fingers clicking on a keyboard broke the stillness. More joined in, creating a swell. Soon, everyone was typing as if a flurry of productivity could wash the scene from their minds. No one spoke. The atmosphere was astringent.
    Tension had been building at Digi-Soft for quite some time as the project deadline approached, but Sasaki’s arrest raised anxiety levels to a new high. Who would be next? Moyer knew he wasn’t the only one thinking it.
     
     

 
    Chapter 2
     
    B efore lunch, Petro Martinez stopped by Moyer’s desk. “Let’s go out and get a bite on the Circle,” he said. Moyer nodded. He was grateful for the distraction. The office remained tight-lipped. Fear and stress were building to a head. But Petro, given enough space to talk would speak his mind, and Petro had sources. If anyone knew why Sasaki was apprehended, it was him. Moyer locked up his things and followed Petro up the stairs.
    Sunshine warmed a cool October day. The sex shops and nightclubs ringing the Circle were dark, hibernating until the end of shift when the glare of neon and call of the barkers would seduce the bored. Restaurant owners swept away the ash in preparation for the lunch crowd. A few restaurants put out cheery bistro tables and chairs, but with the ash still falling, there were no takers despite a welcoming sun.
    Tucker's Restaurant was opposite Digi-Soft, and as far from work as one could get on Freedom Circle. Most of the lunch crowd took the long way around, along the buildings, under awnings to keep the ash off. Moyer and Petro walked directly across the Circle and conversed along the way.
    Petro said, “That was quite the scene this morning, wasn’t it?”
    Moyer craned to see that no one else was nearby and spoke in a low voice. “Do you know what it was about? Have you talked to your friends upstairs?”
    Petro shook his head and leaned in close, “I talked to them, but they didn’t know he’d been taken. They’re more in the dark than we are.”
    “The whole thing was handled badly if you ask me,” Moyer said. “They should have waited and nabbed him later at his apartment, privately. Now because of the spectacle, the entire office is scared out of their wits.”
    Petro raised his brows and gave Moyer a look. “I think they want us scared.”
    At first, Moyer didn’t want to believe it. But it did address why such a show was made of Hugh Sasaki’s arrest.