Storm of Bells

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.