Brendon didn't have reason to ever venture down into the storage area, but he nonetheless knew the orderly that was in charge of it. Milton Grubb.
Milton was perfectly suited to a career that put him in charge of cataloguing inanimate objects and had minimal contact with people. He'd been at the Hospital for years. Brendon didn't know how long for, but he was already a fixture when Brendon joined eight years ago. Back then he worked in the morgue and was referred to by many as, "The one that looks like Lurch, only creepier." His personality matched his outward demeanour too.
Brendon saw him a lot when he worked in toxicology, which was just down the hall from the morgue. He'd hear him hauling dead bodies back and forth with a rhythmic flat-footed stomp. He sometimes wondered if beneath that deadpan lumbering exterior beat the heart of a poet or there soared the soul of an artist. Perhaps Grubb had surprising hidden depths if only someone cared to look or nurture. Then he saw him one afternoon munching an egg mayonnaise sandwich staring at the charred burnt corpse of a road traffic accident and decided that his depths were probably nothing more than a shallow paddling pool.
"Hey Milton, how are you doing?" asked Brendon, swinging around the corner and standing opposite the admin desk. The room had a very strange layout. It must have once been the basement floor of the car park that sat above it. The only way to get to it was via a big service elevator that opened into a long corridor at the northern corner of the level. The admin desk was at the end of it, just out of sight around the corner. Behind it was a long chain-link fence with rows of storage shelves behind it. Typically, Grubb would jump out and startle the uninitiated, but Brendon knew to expect him.
"Doctor Walker," droned Milton as he put down his thick fantasy novel and rose to his feet. He was a good head taller than Brendon, and Brendon was tall. "It's been a while. How have you been keeping?"
"Yeah, you know, just keeping on, keeping on," said Brendon as jovially as he could.
"You're in the ER now?"
"Yeah, I'm heading up the new NeuroSync Recovery Bay there." Milton said nothing and just stared.
It began to feel awkward.
Brendon swallowed slowly. "Anyway, erm, I needed to come down to register some valuables for a patient who passed yesterday." He placed a large plastic bag with some items of clothing and other pieces on the desk. "And today's my birthday, so I figured I'd bring you a piece of birthday cake too, Milton." He raised up the foil-covered paper plate towards him. Milton's face softened slightly as his eyelids lifted a tiny amount. He slowly lifted the plate from Brendon with both hands and raised it towards his face.
"What kind is it?"
"Chocolate Mud Pie. From Hummels," Milton smirked a smile and lifted a bushy eyebrow. Was he trying to sniff it?
"I figured you for a chocolate man, Milton," said Brendon, trying to sound playful. "If I could just book these in, I can store them away for you and you can enjoy that." He tapped the plastic bag on the desk.
Milton's face returned to default settings.
He sat down at his seat and tapped some keys on his keyboard.
"This is a lowly job for a consultant to be doing," offered up Milton.
"Is it?" bumbled Brendon inelegantly.
He started to sweat.
Subterfuge, even at this basic level, wasn't his forte. "I just wanted to stretch my legs, and everyone was busy upstairs." Milton pulled open the bag and laid out the contents. An old phone, wristwatch, pyjamas, and a sweater. He meticulously documented each item on the screen and then rolled his chair over to the printer.
"Sign here and here."
"Sure," said Brendon, and he scribbled in the couple of places that required a signature. Milton then peeled off a sticker from a long roll and stuck it on the plastic bag. He then grabbed an empty box from the pile behind him and began loading it.
"You can go now," he said glumly. "Thanks for the cake." Brendon shifted on his feet.
"You don't need me to pack it away for you?"
"No, I can do that."
Brendon scratched the back of his head.
"It's just that I promised his widow that I'd make sure it was all squared away safely until she can collect it, something about the watch being an heirloom or something. You know how people can get." He pursed his lips at Milton.
"You're not really supposed to go back there…"
"Look, I'll be two seconds. Let me file it away for Mrs. Bishop. You go get a cup of coffee and enjoy your cake before the icing starts to melt." Milton looked at the foil-covered plate again.
Brendon looked at Milton. Was this shit even working?
"Aisle H, section nine. It's all right here on the box."
"OK," said Brendon without trying to sound too relieved or surprised. Milton walked over to the chain link door in the fence and opened it. He flicked a light switch that illuminated the rows and rows of shelving.
Each was neatly labelled with a letter. The door opened on D, so Brendon slowly made his way down to H. As he swung down into the aisle he checked back at Milton. He was watching him. As soon as he was concealed, he ditched his box on a random piece of shelf and swiftly fished in the breast pocket of his scrub top for the piece of paper where he'd written the location of Riley's effects.
Aisle K section 12. He ran, as quietly as he could, down to the end of the aisle planning to just swing round the back to get to K, but he ended up against the back wall.
"Fuck!" No way round.
He thought fast and made a hole in the shelf next to him and crawled through like a human mole to the next aisle, then the same again through into aisle K. Section 12 was one of the back sections so after some scrabbling, he was able to find the section and then the box.
He quickly whipped open the lid and got to the bloodied headset. It was in its own plastic bag. He worked fast to get it out and dismantled it into its constituent parts, visor, headgear and arm for the nano transmitter. He then lifted his scrub top and swung round a canvas bag that he'd hidden across his chest. He quickly stuffed it with the pieces and then swung it round onto his back again. He'd look hunchbacked in profile, but it should be enough to get past Milton at least. Now the exit. Rather than burn time going back through the shelving units he figured he'd risk it, and just walk out the front. After all he was only a few aisles down.
He rounded the opening to aisle K and immediately caught Milton's gaze. Shit! Would he clock he was walking out of the wrong aisle? "Everything OK Doctor?" he asked.
"Yep, all good, thanks," Brendon replied. He made it to the gate and then shuffled past Milton, ensuring to stay front on to him at all times. Milton made his way past him to lock the door. "OK, you enjoy that cake now." He was side stepping around the desk now, nearly free and up the corridor. Milton had finished locking up.
Brendon turned to pace it up the corridor and was nearly taken out by Kross walking in the opposite direction. "Brendon, what are you doing down here?" Brendon startled, composed himself, and readjusted his body position to an angle that left him front on to now both Kross and Milton.
"Just dropping something off." He continued side stepping around towards the elevator. "How are you, you all good?"
"I'm fine, Brendon. I haven't seen you for a while, but I'm around for a few days. Let's grab a drink after."
"Sure, I'll send you a text." Brendon was now walking backwards up the corridor. "I need to get back. Good to see you, Dorian. Thanks, Milton!" As he distanced away, the corridor got darker, and Kross turned in to talk to Milton, leaving Brendon to rotate and stride it out.
Kross looked at Milton. "What was he doing here?"
"He was just dropping something off." Milton paused. "We're getting some very high-profile visitors down here today. What can I do for you, Director?"
"I'm here to pick something up for someone." He shuffled in the inside pocket of his immaculately cut suit. "Here's the paperwork. I believe it's in aisle K."