She was being escorted down a long hallway. "Goldstar, right? There's a ladies' room down the hall to your left, third stall on the right. Inside, you'll find an air freshener that spritzes on a timed cycle. It's very important you wait for three sprays. Not two, three. On the third spritz, a green light will glow on the air freshener unit. When it does, say the word 'Sergey', outloud. Then sit down as if you're using the toilet, wait, and don't ask questions."
Goldstar blinked, momentarily thrown. "Wait, on the toilet? And why Sergey?"
"You'll see. Just do it." Hannah's tone hardened. Then, just as quickly, she shifted back into the polished cadence of a high end restaurant hostess to address another clearly chipped guest, as though no secret had been passed. "Thanks so much for joining us for dinner at SC, Silver City's finest luxury dining experience…""
Goldstar gave a small nod and continued further down the hall, the OLED walls shimmering with beautifully programmed constellations. Soft ambient music played overhead, eerily tranquil. The bathroom: she entered the third stall, shut the door, and stared at the air freshener dispenser unit fixed to the wall.
Sshhhpshhhhh. Lavender and lemongrass mist alongside deep wooden notes filled the air. She glanced at her phone and counted the seconds.
Sshhhpshhhhh. Another wave. Her heartbeat had synchronized with its rhythm.
Sshhhpshhhhh. A final burst, and then a tiny green light blinked beneath the unit.
"Sergey," she said aloud, her pants to her ankles, taking a seat on the toilet bowl.
For a split second, nothing happened. Then her chest jolted... a sudden drop, like the lurch of an elevator when that funny feeling creeps into your stomach. She was traveling downward. The toilet was some kind of trap door moving platform. Goldstar wondered if Hannah's chip was fake, or was she unchipped and was somehow allowed to work at Supper Club? The plot in her mind surrounding chipped and unchipped people was thickening. An environment like Silver City seemed to have less of a problem breaking the rules than the other F8 occupied territories she had explored. A faint hiss of hydraulics, a metallic snap, and the bathroom stall door swung open on its own. She frantically pulled up her pants and righted herself.
Just beyond the secret toilet elevator side stood a mostly bald broad-shouldered man with a goatee and heavy accent, his grin wide and unapologetic. "Ah, you must be Ms. Goldstar from The BBS."
Her eyes scanned the room beyond. A vault-like chamber. Metal walls. Power humming in the stale scented air. She was deep underground.
"And you must be Sergey," she said.
He laughed, thumping his chest as his thick Post-Russian accent made his name, and the secret password incredibly appropriate. "Of course. Who else would name password after himself? Come, welcome to NIGHTSHIFT Arms Outpost, Silver City."
The inner workings of a weapons deal was about to go down.