text: Trapped! Simon Rafferty was dressed like he always did when on a job. He wore jeans, a Netflix T-Shirt, a pair of white running shoes and his sunglasses. If it was cool outside, then the leather jacket came on. He was available four times of the year once per season. As he had told his boss: “Use me wisely.” And the organization had done just that. He was one of the best in the business -- if not the best -- and on this bright sunny September afternoon, he was going to take care of business. The building was in the retirement block. It looked like someone wanted an old person out of the way. The names and faces didn’t matter; they were memorized and then quickly forgotten. He had found the building easy enough access was a little harder. There were cameras everywhere. The ruse as posing as a delivery man had gone the way of the dodo bird. There were a thousand different ways to gain access to a ‘secure’ building. After all, when you were the best in the business, there was always a way of getting the job done. It had been simple to get in. The manager was standing there pontificating about the present political situation and Simon had simply pressed a number on the panel. It took about three-seconds and then the door was opened. He really didn’t look at the manager squarely in the eye. He just shuffled past everyone that was sitting in the lounge area entrance and half-smiled. The two elevators were up on the seventh and eight floors respectively. He didn’t feel like waiting and simply veered left towards the stairs. He climbed the stairs to the third floor and then proceeded to exit onto the main floor. The numbers zipped by and Simon realized that he had taken the set of stairs that was furthest from the desired location. It didn’t matter the end was going to be the same. According to the instructions the person of target was going to be home. Simon felt for the envelope and reassured that it was still there. One of the rookies had dropped the envelope and had been caught. The boys in the organization had laughed long and hard at that one. Of course, the stool pigeon had to be taken care just in case and before he started to flap. The apartment was 311 and he stopped. The man always took a deep breath before delivering the bad news. It was like being the grim reaper minus the dark hoodie, scythe and evil glare. The knock on the door was sharp and precise. It was a reflexion of how he did business. Lorne Johnson opened the door. He was in his eighties, frail, with a wisp of white hair, and a mouth that didn’t properly line up. His arms were full of brown spots and bruises. To make matters worse, the old dog was in shorts revealing very knobby knees. “Can I help you?” “Special delivery for Lorne Johnson.” There was nothing wrong with being polite. “Hang on, I’ll give you something for your troubles.” “That’s okay, enjoy.” Simon handed him the envelope. The old guy nodded and the blue eyes were alert for the last time. Simon could have taken the stairs but wasn’t sure were they led to. So he sauntered over to the elevator and pressed the button. The door opened and he went inside. He pressed G for ground and the door closed slowly. It was an older building and he guessed that the elevators were the originals. It buckled a bit and he smiled and then it stopped. He was unaware that the power had gone out in the building and the entire block. “Are you kidding me?” It was stuck between the third and second floor. The elevator hung in the balance like a cat hanging on by a thread over a steep precipice. He jammed on the emergency button but nothing happened. It wasn’t moving. “Okay, this cannot be happening.” But it was actually occurring in real time. There was no phone to use and he looked at his cell and it had gone dead. He wanted to pound on the door but it was not a good idea because there was no need to attract attention. If the old codger had opened the envelope by this point, then that part of the mission had been completed. Now if he could only get the hell out of the damn elevator. The manager had gone back to his apartment waiting for someone to knock on the door. He was sitting in the chair watching some game show and promptly snoring the rest of his shift away. When the lights went out, he woke up and snarled. “Okay, don’t panic. You are Simon Rafferty, a professional, able to deal with any situation, any circumstance. You have survived all types of deadly situations. You have been behind enemy lines and managed to live and tell about it. In fact, they gave you a medal for it.” He smiled and wiped the sweat off of his brow. “I’ll be home for supper.” Carl stood in the main lobby and waited for the Hydro people to show up. Beverly Johnson arrived to look in on her father, but rarely on a Wednesday. The scout that had surveyed the scene could never have anticipated this. The middle-aged woman had driven down the street and realized that the power was gone. She couldn’t take any of the elevators, so she walked up the stairs. Unlike Simon, she went up the right ones arriving at apartment 311 quicker. She knocked on the door and listened for a sound. There was nothing and she figured he was sleeping. Her father was partially deaf and he didn’t always hear a good rap on the door. She had own key anyway. She slipped inside and the place was clean. A woman came in twice a week to clean and look after him. Gladys, the cleaning lady, was a godsend. She not only cleaned for Lorne, but made sure that he took his meds, listened to him tell his long-winded stories and generally cared about the old guy with a pure heart of gold. The woman always went well beyond her duties. “Your father is just an old sweetie,” she had told Beverly many times. Beverly walked in and felt that there was something wrong. “Father? Dad, are you here?” She walked up to the chair and knew by the limp arm that he was gone. She figured it was a heart attack but when she saw the envelope and the purple powder inside, it was obviously not a medical condition. Beverly had been a nurse in the trauma/emergency room of a major hospital for years. The cardinal rule was not to panic. “Okay, dad never went to get his mail.” The last time he had done that the pool old guy had fallen and broken a hip. That was six years ago and she usually picked it up on the days that she visited. Gladys grabbed the rest of the time. She didn’t disturb anything and reached for her phone. “Hello, yes, this is Beverly Johnson and I am here visiting my father. He is deceased. I have a bad feeling that he was murdered. I am going to call the police and please do not disturb him until they arrive because you might destroy the evidence.” She said all this as she walked down the stairs. Beverly found the building manager standing in the lobby. “Hey, Bev, how are you?” “Horrible. Dad is gone.” “Oh, I am so sorry. Was it his heart?” “No, he was murdered. Look, I have called paramedics and the police. They will be here shortly, hopefully.” “Okay.” Carl figured that the elevator was stuck between the third and second floor. “The Hydro people called and will be here soon. I better call the elevator people.” He checked his cell phone and doubted they would get there since it was already past three in the afternoon. He opened the office door and then one of the tenants poked their head inside. “There is someone stuck on the elevator.” Carl smiled because it would get the elevator people to the building very quickly. “Hello, yeah, it’s Carl. How did you know?” They laughed. “Anyway, the power went out and someone was in the elevator. They are stuck in the elevator you know the one you fixed last month? Yeah, we are in dire need of new elevators but the owner is cheap. Okay, you’ll be here in about ten minutes. Thanks, see you then.” Carl closed the office door and now it was a waiting game. “Okay, who is stuck in the elevator?” Five minutes later, the paramedics, the police, the Hydro people and the elevator repair person all arrived at once. “It’s circus time.” Beverly stood there trying to retain her composure. “Okay, paramedics and police go to apartment 311. You have a key don’t you?” Carl smiled at her. “Yes, I do.” Beverly smiled back. “Great. The elevator is stuck between the third and second floor.” He looked at the elevator repairman. “We have figured out the source of the power failure and it should be fixed in like ten minutes.” “As soon as it is fixed the elevator will start moving.” “Did you figure out who is stuck in it?” “No, I called out but there was no response.” Stan the elevator man smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “How long have they been stuck in there?” “Not really sure, I was busy with something else.” Meanwhile, in apartment 311 the police saw the envelope with the purple powder and nodded their heads. “I have to make a phone call.” The police officer made the call and smiled. “Okay, I need to look at the surveillance camera.” They raced down the stairs and the manager shrugged his shoulders. “It should work even on generator power.” When the power went out the generator went on and produced an adequate amount of power. They started watching the camera tape and saw Simon. “That’s him, the guy we call the Purple Powder Assassin. Where did he go?” “He didn’t go out the door because he’s not on the camera.” Ernie, the elevator guy popped his head into the office. “Okay, there is a male stuck in the elevator.” “That’s him,” Officer Harris was so excited that he nearly bit his tongue. “You think so?” “Absolutely, one hundred per cent yes that is him.” “Do not fix that elevator right away. We have a major assassin trapped. The proper authorities will arrive.” He got on his radio and made a very urgent call. “Should we evacuate the building?” Carl was concerned for his tenants. Some of them had drifted down the stairs while others just staying in their respective apartments. “No, I don’t want anyone to panic. Besides, the guy isn’t going anywhere in these old style elevators. There is nowhere to go.” It was a few minutes later when the SWAT team arrived and the building was surrounded. The power went back on. A couple of minutes later, Ernie pressed a button and the elevator started up. It moved down to the second and then the ground floor. Simon walked into the arms of the Authorities. “Simon Rafferty you are arrested on assassin and terrorist charges.” “And for killing my father.” She kicked him in the groin and everyone laughed.