Lethal Circuit by Lars Guignard Read Free Book Online

he noted was that he’d have to come up with another excuse for being there. The building wasn’t a shining example of anything. The bare concrete floor and walls looked old, but Michael guessed that they were probably new and simply decaying before their time due to a combination of improperly mixed concrete and Shenzhen’s high humidity. There was an unoccupied metal desk in the dark corner of the open lobby and a ten-foot-wide switchback staircase leading up through the floors. With no one to stop him, Michael kept right on walking, mounting the first flight of stairs.
    He was struck by the quiet. The building appeared utterly vacant, and on each level he was met by a locked, green metal door, paint peeling off its face. Though the coordinates his father had left him accurately indicated a longitude and latitude, there was no indication of a precise elevation, so Michael knew that even if he stood exactly upon the spot indicated, he’d still be guessing. Now that he was in the building he was pretty much on his own. Except, he thought, if his dad had gone through the trouble of leaving him the coordinates, he wouldn’t leave the floor of the building to chance. No, he would have provided that information. And with that Michael remembered the coordinates’ final digit. The five. Initially Michael had thought it to be a fraction, but that was unlikely. GPS coordinates were routinely expressed to four decimal places. No, the final digit wasn’t a fraction, it was a floor. Redoubling his step, Michael now knew his destination lay two floors above.
    He also knew he was no longer alone. Rounding the fourth floor landing, chatter emanated from the hallway above. Michael mounted another two steps and listened. Unlike the green steel doors on the other floors, the fifth floor door was propped open by a plastic chair, women’s voices audible from within. Michael considered rehearsing his cover story, but nixed the idea when he considered that it was unlikely anybody would speak a word of English anyway. He was in China after all, not Chattanooga. He needed to adjust his expectations accordingly. Mounting the final steps he stuck his head in the door expecting to find at most a couple of chatty secretaries. Instead he found a full-fledged assembly line.
    Row upon row of young female workers sat in blue smocks assembling some kind of small product, each adding their part in turn as whatever it was made its way down the line. Two older, matronly woman wearing green smocks strode up and down the line keeping tabs on the workers. If this was a Chinese factory, it certainly wasn’t the hell hole Michael had been led to believe they were. It looked more like a sewing circle than anything; a large group of women, working on what appeared to be a plastic toy as it was passed down the table. The whole process couldn’t have been less high tech, or strangely, Michael thought, watching the completed widgets get thrown into a bin at the end of the line, more efficient.
    Large grime streaked windows let the sunlight in, a dented freight elevator parked on the far wall of the open space. Glancing at his GPS, it was obvious to Michael that the coordinates were near the end of the assembly line. Michael could tell his presence didn’t go unnoticed; there were furtive looks in his direction, but he wasn’t actively acknowledged, not even by the supervisors in green smocks. The lack of attention suited his purposes just fine. He didn’t hesitate. He simply walked right in. The first few steps were fine. No one paid him much heed. Unfortunately, when he was about halfway down the assembly line a loud buzzing alarm sounded. Michael braced himself. But instead of security taking him down, the young female workers rose in perfect order, a few giggling at him as they filed out the door, leaving the factory floor. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Michael realized that he had just witnessed a shift change. They had literally left him alone in