Kingston Residence

Mr. and Mrs. Kingston scuttled into the panic room, the only tight space within their sprawling mansion.

Clammy Mr. Kingston heaved the door shut. He wiped the sweat off his brow and quickly bolted seven locks on the heavy, bulletproof door. He straightened his bowtie and turned to his wife. 

Mrs. Kingston had already started her pacing circuit—which she normally did slowly around their sprawling kitchen while their casseroles baked, but now, her track relegated her to a simple, nine-step back-and-forth.

The square panic room boasted no fancy furnishings, save for a leather couch and a computer desk on opposite walls. Mr. Kingston dodged his wife and awakened the computer out of its screen-savered daze.

The wall-sized monitor came alive and displayed the view of twenty-four different cameras, all in high definition.

Finally, Mrs. Kingston joined her husband in front of the screen, and she asked, “Are you sure this isn’t a false alarm?”

“I’m sure. One hundred percent. Our system is infallible. Someone is out there, my dear, but they will be caught.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because our home is the best of the best, and our security system is the best of the best.”

She humphed. “I’m still nervous.”

“Just sit back and enjoy the show! On the cameras, we can easily see everything around the manor, and we’ll be able to observe all the counter-measures when they happen.”

Incidentally, neither Mr. nor Mrs. Kingston sat on the couch. Instead, they stared at Camera 1, which displayed the live feed of the front gate.

Mrs. Kingston whispered, “What if he’s already past the front gate?”

“He can’t hear us in here!” Mr. Kingston yelled.

Mrs. Kingston repeated, barely louder than before, “What if he’s already past the gate?”

“The tripped sensors say he’s barely broke the property perimeter. It’ll take a few minutes walking to get to the gate, and if he gets past the fence, the yard sensors will tell me, and we’ll look at the yard cameras.”

Mr. Kingston tried to ignore his wife’s heavy breathing and her footsteps as she resumed her pacing. Barely blinking, he trained his eyes on the screen.

Nothing…nothing…nothing…

A flash! The camera focussed, clarifying the image of a black car with bright headlights rolling close to the front gate.

A man exited the car. He wore a black leather duster, and a ski mask covered his head and face.

“Honey, look, look!”

Mrs. Kingston rushed back to the screen and yelped.

The man walked to the gate keypad, his shrouded head filling most of the camera’s sight.

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

A message box appeared in the middle of the monitor: FRONT GATE OPENING.

Mrs. Kingston squealed.

“Will you stop that?” said Mr. Kingston while he frantically typed and clicked, trying everything he knew to close the gate. The best he could do was sound the alarm and trigger an alert to the police.

“How? How did he open it? You said we were safe!”

“We are safe!” Mr. Kingston decided not to tell his wife how unsafe he felt. Somehow, the intruder opened the gate with only three buttons, but the gate required a four-digit code and ENTER, five keys total. Who is this man? he wondered.

“What’s next? Can he get to us?”

He turned to his wife. “No, of course not. Remember the counter-measures. Besides, we paid good money for this top-of-the-line system; I’m sure it won’t fail us now.”

Of course, Mr. Kingston was originally sure nothing could ever breach the gate. A knot of worry settled in the pit of his stomach. 

Their eyes once again watched the screen, this time on Cameras 2 and 3, which together showed the whole driveway and front yard.

The man walked at an even pace, seemingly unaware of the alarms now blaring around him.

Mr. Kingston pressed a button and said, “Sic ‘em, boys!”

A door opened from their side yard, and the Kingston’s two well-trained dobermans barked and sprinted to the intruder.

Mrs. Kingston covered her eyes, but to Mr. Kingston’s chagrin, the dogs’ barks turned to whimpers as they neared the intruder. 

The man leaned down and petted both dogs, who then took turns licking his ski mask.

Who is this man?

Mrs. Kingston was crying. “He’s gonna get us, he’s gonna get us…”

“No, my dear! Dogs are fallible, but the other counter-measures aren’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Just trust the system. Watch the cameras and trust the system. When this is over, we’ll both be laughing, because we were never really in any danger.”

The man continued to the front door, and the dobermans accompanied him as if they belonged to him. The fact made Mr. Kingston’s blood boil.

Knock, knock, knock.

“He’s really knocking?” said Mrs. Kingston. “The gall! Can’t he hear the alarms?”

Knock, knock, knock.

Camera 4 was trained on the front door, and the Kingston’s could see him pause for only a moment before reaching into one of his deep jacket pockets. After a few seconds, he pulled out a ring of keys, and proceeded to unlock all five of their front entrance’s locks and bolts.

Mrs. Kingston whispered, “Honey, who has a copy of our house keys?”

“Us,” he whispered back. “Only we have all five keys. Two of the bolts were put in by a different locksmith company from the others, so it’s not like he could get all the keys from one easy-to-rob place, either.”

“Where are your keys, then? Mine are in my purse.”

“Mine are here in my pocket.”

They confirmed their keys while the man slowly opened their front door and gazed inside.

“They’re all here,” said Mr. Kingston. “Whoever this is, they planned the intrusion. This is no random burglary.”

The man stepped inside, tripping yet another set of sensors. The Kingstons turned to Cameras 6-9, which displayed their vast entryway from different angles.

Mrs. Kingston whispered, “Where are those other counter measures?”

“One is actually for this room. Watch.”

Mr. Kingston pressed a button, and all the doors to the entry slammed shut, and smoke plumed out of the vents until they could see nothing on the camera.

“This, my dear, is toxic gas. There’s no way he’s escaping now.”

After a few seconds, Mrs. Kingston tapped her husband. “Is he dead? Is he dead?”

“I don’t know yet. We’ll know soo—”

Another alarm tripped with a warning message on the screen.

“What’s happening?”

“The pressure sensor for the upstairs hallway door has been been activated. Someone’s trying to escape the gas.”

Mrs. Kingston said, “How could he get up the stairs while breathing in gas? There’s no way this guy’s alive; something must be wrong with the sensor.”

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound came from the hallway door. After a full minute of silence, a warning flashed on the screen: 

CONFIRM — DEPRESSURIZE GAS HALL

[YES] OR [NO]

“No, no, no, no, no!” Mr. Kingston said, and YES blinked on the screen.

The gas on the cameras faded away, escaping through now-open vents and windows. They could see the man standing at that same door up the stairs, and he appeared to have a gas mask over his ski-masked face and a remote in his hand.

“Where did he get that remote?” asked Mrs. Kingston.

The intruder held up the remote and the door in front of him swung open, unlocked.

“We’ve never had a remote that could do that,” said Mr. Kingston. The man walked through the hallway, and Mr. Kingston realized his trajectory. “Don’t panic, but I think he’s coming straight for us.”

“How am I not supposed to panic?” she screamed. “Are there any more counter measures?”

“Yes, and there’s no way he can escape this one. The only hallway and only door leading to this room is made of stone, and it’s temperature controlled. In a matter of minutes, we can boost the temperature to over four hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and the only controls to start it or stop it are here in the panic room.”

Mr. and Mrs. Kingston watched the mansion’s gothic stone hallway on Cameras 23 and 24. Soon enough, the man entered the corridor. Mr. Kingston slapped the button, and the heavy doors slammed shut.

“Time to bake,” Mr. Kingston said, as he turned the dial to four hundred degrees.

The intruder calmly reached into his back pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a ball of fabric. He held part of it and flung multiple times, and it unrolled into some kind of giant poncho. He covered himself completely with this fabric, and just stood while the temperature quickly climbed.

Mrs. Kingston said, “What is he doing, what is he doing? Do you think he can survive this?”

Mr. Kingston replied, “I think covering himself would only make him warmer. The temperature is rising higher and higher. Any minute now, he should be falling down dead.”

They watched the screen for several minutes, the intruder not moving. Then, they could see ripples of movement in the fabric of his sheetlike cover.

“Is he falling?” Mrs. Kingston asked.

The giant mass of fabric started to scoot. Inch by inch, he closed the distance between himself and the panic room door.

“Can’t be, no, no, no, no,” Mr. Kingston muttered, while his wife squeezed his hand harder than ever. 

“Why isn’t he dying?” Mrs. Kingston asked, panic shaking her voice.

“The fabric must be some kind of protection. But it can’t last forever, and there’s no way he could ever get through this door. I’ll admit, he’s too close to us for comfort, but I still think we’re perfectly safe, my dear.”

The confidence had left Mr. Kingston’s voice long ago. Mrs. Kingston finally broke and began to sob.

Inch by inch, the intruder closed in on the panic room door. Before long, he stood only a few feet away, still covered by his protective sheet.

Through her shrill sobs, Mrs. Kingston asked, “Is there any way you can turn up the heat even more? Anything to protect us from this mad man?”

“I turned it up to maximum heat. Even if the system could turn it up hotter, it would probably warp the locks, let the heat in here with us, and trap us here, to boot. But please don’t be frightened; we don’t even know what he wants.”

“We don’t have to know what he wants to know he’s up to no good! No friend of ours would ever test our security system like this.”

“I’m just saying—”

He paused and both them moved their heads even closer to the screen. The man was moving under the fabric again. Something shiny and metallic now poked out of the sheet. The metal thing looked like some kind of pin, and it was moving towards a keypad next to the panic room door.

The intruder plugged it into a port below the key pad, and a new message flashed across the screen in the panic room:

CANCELING HEATING PROCEDURE

ALL ALARMS CANCELED

Mrs. Kingston’s gasp sounded more like a squeal. Mr. Kingston typed furiously to override this new message, but his administrator password wasn’t working. 

“How, how, how, how, how!” he yelled, typing faster and louder.

As the hallway temperature returned to normal, the intruder calmly reached for the panic room door.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The Kingstons froze. 

“Don’t answer it,” Mr. Kingston whispered. “Be as silent as possible. Maybe he won’t know we’re in here.”

Knock! Knock, knock, knock! Knock!

They held each other, trembling, eyes locked on the door.

The first lock of seven slid unlocked.

Mrs. Kingston yelped.

The second and third locks also disengaged. 

Mr. Kingston held his wife closer.

The fourth and fifth locks followed suit. Mr. Kingston knew for a fact that those bolts did not have keyholes on the outside, but he knew saying so would be pointless.

Lock six: Slink!

Mr. Kingston looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, but he knew he couldn’t leave his wife’s side. He realized the time for resistance was over.

Lock seven—Bang!

The heavy door creaked open, while Mrs. Kingston sobbed uncontrollably.

In the door way, the intruder stood, still mostly covered by the fabric. What they could see of the man was covered in sweat. Waves of heat from the hallway flushed the Kingstons, and without thinking they stepped back against the panic room wall.

The man threw aside the fabric and ripped off his ski mask, and they immediately recognized his face.

Mr. Kingston stammered and finally said, “M, m-m-m-m, Mr. Vester? W-what are you doing here?”

Mr. Vester wiped his sweaty brow with a handkerchief and smiled. “I wanted to surprise you both with a visit. And I wanted to talk.”

Mr. Kingston shouted, “How dare you barge in here like this, scare us to death, and say you want to talk? I thought you were going to kill us!”

Mr. Vester said, “Why would you think that? I don’t have a weapon.”

“You didn’t announce yourself, and you didn’t leave when the alarm went off.”

“I do apologize for the theatrics. To be honest, I thought it would be a little funny to surprise you.”

Mrs. Kingston said, “You didn’t have to surprise us in the scariest way possible! We would’ve been happy to talk over the phone any time.”

“You know me,” said Mr. Vester. “I prefer face-to-face communication.”

Mr. Kingston said, “But how did you circumvent the system at every turn?”

Mr. Vester guffawed. “I’ll admit, that was a challenge. But it wasn’t too challenging after making a few phone calls to the various security specialists you’d hired.”

Mrs. Kingston said, “They just gave you the information? I thought they were professionals, then they go and betray our trust like that.”

“Well, they are very professional, and they take customer privacy very seriously. They only cooperated after I showed them my I.D. and explained how I wanted to check on my mansion in person.”

Mr. Kingston said, “Y-y-y, your mansion, yes, of course sir. Here it is. If I’d known it was you, we wouldn’t have done the whole security thing.”

“I’m glad the both of you’ve taken security seriously, but this is perhaps a little overkill. Unnecessary actually, for our next phase.”

“Next phase?” asked Mrs. Kingston. 

“But of course. I didn’t fund your business and the building of this house for no reason.”

“Of course not, sir,” Mr. Kingston said. “It’s just, this is a bit of a shock, seeing you here. When you gave us the money, we followed your every specification and we went above and beyond, making it our own, just like you’d asked. We’ve treated this place like a work of art, and we’ve protected the whole home with the top-of-the-line security because we didn’t want your investment to be in vain.”

“And I appreciate that, Mr. Kingston. You’ve both been diligent with my investment, and I’m glad you’ve valued it. But now, I want to tell you about the next phase. Do you remember why I chose you to build this home and live in it?”

Mrs. Kingston looked at the floor and blushed, nodding while avoiding his eyes.

“I chose the two of you because you are some of the kindest, most welcoming, most hospitable people I know.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Mr. Kingston. 

Mr. Vester said, “You were faithful to build the house and protect the house; now it’s time to open the house up. I’ve already sent invitations to the homeless, unemployed, and underemployed, to the orphans, the widows, and the rejected. They start arriving the day after tomorrow.”

“Yes sir,” said Mr. and Mrs. Kingston. 

“Don’t look so ashamed you two. You had good intentions—you just lost sight of the original goal. It happens to the best.”

The Kingstons smiled and finally looked Mr. Vester in the eyes.

Mr. Vester said, “Now, about that security system…it can stay comprehensive, but can we make it less combative? And the dogs need to be trained in the ways of fetch. They are to be just as hospitable as the both of you.”

“As they should be,” Mr. Kingston agreed.

“Well,” Mr. Vester said, “I suppose I should be leaving. You both have a big day tomorrow, with all your preparations and what-not.”

“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Kingston. “You’re staying the night, and you will have dinner. We have the perfect room for you.”

“And I will draw a bath!” said Mr. Kingston.

Mr. Vester laughed. “Thank you, and I accept! My home truly is in the best hands.”