by Rimmy London
“Oh, thank you. I hope you didn’t spend too much time on it,” I suddenly felt guilty for adding to his list of worries. “I would have gotten it taken care of, but Mr. Ginetti insisted on my borrowing his car.” Givanni relaxed into a genuine smile, and I paused. How could he move from such extreme warning to total contentment in almost the same breath? He was a puzzle.
“Actually it was a pleasure. Relaxing really - no trouble at all.” With that, he dropped the keys into my hand and headed down the hall. I watched him turn out of sight, wondering what part of the building he had been working in all this time. Our conversation had floated from tense to casual like a breeze, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
My office wasn’t in its usual pristine state when I entered. Papers were stacked this way and that on my desk like Mr. Ginetti had moved from his office to mine for the day. His insistence on paper records really was inconvenient. I didn’t understand it. A thick newspaper was folded atop it all, and I got to work sifting through the chaos. Newspaper on the floor. Invoices to be filed. The company really managed some impressive numbers. I paused to read the invoice atop a dozen others but it looked nothing like the usual documents. The address at the top didn’t make sense. Sicily? We didn’t work with anyone in Italy…
“Hello!” Mr. Ginetti snatched the pile of invoices away, and I nearly jumped from my chair. “Thank you, Ms. Lane, I didn’t realize you were here,” he boomed. His smile was wide but his face glistened with sweat. “I’ll just handle these - don’t want to overburden you.”
“Uh - thanks,” I managed.
“You met my nephew?” His voice remained frantically pleasant. It irritated me. What was he hiding? Invoices couldn’t be that much trouble.
“Yes I did,” I answered a little dryly, turning to the desk as if bored with our conversation. There wasn’t a single page left. “He seems very kind.”
“Ah yes - Givanni. He is.” We smiled at each other for a moment. “Well, I’d better get back to it. Good day, Ms. Lane.”
“Good day.” His office door closed behind him, with me staring after. Invoices with Italy. If I really was in line to become his chief financial aid why wouldn’t I know about that? How could I advise him when I didn’t even know what was going on? Realizing he forgot his newspaper, I lifted it from the floor. Something slipped from the pages with a fluttering of paper, and I stared down at a single invoice. The foreign address was in the top corner just like the others. My hand hovered over it with my mind already battling. I wanted to know why he had snatched the papers away like they were the air from his lungs. It didn’t make sense, but then I’d only been working at Shellbrook for a month. I should hand it back. I slipped it into my bag before giving it more consideration. He probably won’t even notice, I reasoned. I’ll just double-check the address and find out for sure. If he wanted me as an advisor, how could I do my job when I didn’t know the company’s associations?
He really should have told me the truth.
Chapter 2
As the sun dipped in the west coast sky I hovered in the slow lane, still in shock from the day before. Ignoring rude gestures from impatient drivers, I could feel my resolve sinking into worry like the slow pull of quicksand. The paper in my briefcase was a lead weight, and I puzzled over the address. Though I wasn’t sure why I doubted the possibility of a misprint. Maybe because of the way Mr. Ginetti had reacted. But Italy? There was no reason for transactions to go through Italy. There was the possibility that a transaction could go through Guadalupe Island in Mexico by mishap. It had been their previous headquarters. Other than that, everything should come through Shellbrook. There didn’t seem to be any explanation.
I hurried home, my fears from the day before held at bay while I typed the address into my computer. But as much as I searched it there seemed to be absolutely no connection to the address and Shellbrook. It wasn’t even the address of a company, as I had assumed - it was a private residence. Who orders a boat load of oil from their kitchen table? As a last resort, I selected a satellite image. But the screen revealed only blotchy squares with the disappointing words, “Image not available”. Drumming my fingers, my gaze fell to the bottom of the page on a stamped inscription I hadn’t seen before: Personal Property of Marco Ginetti. Beneath was Mr. Ginetti’s hand-scribed signature instead of our company logo.
My breath sucked in. These were not our usual transactions; they were Mr. Ginetti’s personal documents, with perhaps nothing to do with the company. They had no business being in my office let alone my home. I swallowed and replaced the paper in my bag. As I headed down the hallway I caught my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were wide, the blue-grey of iris almost swallowed up in black pupil. A very girlish face - slender and flecked with freckles like a dash of nutmeg across my nose. Suddenly I felt like a young girl. How could I be so impulsive as to take it? All the tangled up events of the past couple days had left me so on edge that the second Givanni hinted about danger I'd forced it all together. Whether it fit or not. What did I think was going on? That my boss hired someone to crash an entire semi-truck on top of me? It was ridiculous and would be impossible to explain. Mr. Ginetti would no doubt fire me if he knew - I had to get it back to him somehow. With a groan, I trudged into my room and slammed the door behind me.
* * *
Rigid at my desk, with half the day already gone, I worried I was running out of time before Mr. Ginetti would outright ask me about the invoice. But there seemed to be no casual way of returning it. My eyes wandered around the room before catching sight of the newspaper from the day before - still folded on the floor. I reached for it and slid the invoice inside. It looked crisp and unopened. Lifting my chin I walked to Mr. Ginetti’s door and knocked. Though his office was silent, he answered quickly. He was all business and held a planner in one hand. “Yes?” He fairly demanded. I cleared my throat.
“This paper was left at my desk yesterday, I assume it’s yours?” I held out the paper, pushing it on him until he grabbed it. He squinted down at the paper.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, and retreated back into his office. Relieved of my burden, I picked up the receiver to begin a list of calls when something slammed against the wall. I spun in my chair and the phone dropped from my hand to clatter across the desk. Mr. Ginetti stood in the doorway, and his eyes were furious. His mouth held a hard line, and the muscles in his jaw bulged. Never had I seen him so upset, and here he was absolutely livid. He charged past, striding through the doors and turning down the hall without a pause. Still staring after him, I quietly put the phone back in its place. I could hear the argument that started down the hall very clearly. I knew who he blamed. I listened as he railed Givanni about privacy and breaking laws. Refusing to sit and let him absorb the blame for me I rushed down the hall. Their voices were easy to follow, but fear built up in my chest at the thought of explaining my mistake.
My resolve crumbled. Abruptly I turned into the copy room and placed a blank paper under the lid, feigning work. The printer squealed to life and there was sudden silence in the halls. My heart pounded at the impression of their eyes on my back, and I listened to a quick thud of footsteps against the carpet behind me. My relief came out in a gust of breath. Waiting until I assumed it was safe I snatched a few papers up and spun on my toes - only to collide with Givanni.
“Oh!” I stepped back, mumbling an apology and trying to smooth the now-crumpled papers. I worked to build up the courage to confess to taking the invoice, but it was like gathering sand, and the strength slipped away. His small gust of laughter stopped me.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Lane,” he teased, clearly aware of my eavesdropping. “You must not have known that I was here.” My chin lifted a bit in reply.
“Well Mr. Alarrno, you never are in this part of the building.” He raised his eyebrows at my use of his formal name but didn’t object. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a tinted grey credit card, but without the usual markings. I could
make out the Shellbrook logo of a wavy line and two overlapping triangles.
“What’s this?” I pinched it between my fingers, flipping it over to see a chip on the back. He held up another one with a gold tint.
“It’s your security card. Marco wanted me to make you one in the event that he is away. You can enter the building with only this if you need - the door will unlock, and the alarm will disarm.” I nodded, more impressed with the little grey card now that I knew its powers.
“So why is yours gold?” I asked, a smile pulling at my lips. He lightened at my question, shrugging a little.
“Just be glad you don’t have a black one,” leaning closer he feigned secrecy. “That one really does nothing. It’s just for show.” He studied me a moment. “Here, follow me.”
“O-kay,” I allowed him to tow me by the elbow, although the time on a swinging pendulum clock elegantly told me I had been gone too long. “But I think I should let Mr. Ginetti know… ”
“Oh, it’s fine,” He waved a hand in the air as if clearing it. “Marco knows, and you’ll be back in five minutes. I promise.” He led me down a hallway that ended with a single door and slipped his own security card into an insert in the wall. The slit illuminated and, checking to make sure I was paying attention, he pulled the door open.
“Ah,” I nodded, ready to head back to the office when he swung the door wide and gestured for me to enter.
“I know, I know,” he said sarcastically. “That was incredible. But really there’s just one more thing.” Laughing, I walked through. This new hall was considerably plain compared to the rest of the building I was used to - like we were behind the scenes. Aside from walls and carpet, there was nothing. Well, almost nothing. About halfway down we stood aside a rather obnoxious framed painting. It was a grey safe, and completely uninteresting. It was the only object to grace the wall on either side. I studied it for a moment. “Okay, it’s your turn.” Givanni held his card up and tapped it against his hand.
“Oh,” I pulled out my own card, glancing around us and back at him. It didn’t make sense. “What am I supposed to do with it - go back the way we came?” Looking back at the door I wondered why we had come so far if that was the case.
“No, here -” he turned so his back was to the safe and nodded at the opposite wall. Confused, I turned so I was standing next to him. Staring at a blank wall. Maybe he was crazy. He nodded again, “Go ahead.” With a dry laugh, I walked up to the wall and placed my hand on it.
“There’s nothing here Giv- Mr. Alarno,” I corrected. He only raised an eyebrow and nodded again, gesturing to the wall. My arms dropped to my sides and I swung around, studying it. There really was nothing. Only tan, boring -
“Wait,” I mumbled. I ran my fingers over a slit in the even texture of the wall, lifting my card and comparing the width. Feeling ridiculous with his eyes on my back, I pushed my card into it. At first, I was afraid nothing would happen, and I sunk the card a little deeper. But the wall moved. I jumped back and watched a large door slide open.
“An elevator?” I asked, shaking my head with the question. The wide opening in the wall waited patiently for someone to enter. Inside was a room, larger than it should be, with two upholstered sitting chairs and what looked like a sheepskin rug. Givanni smiled a little before he entered, relaxing into one of the chairs and looking expectantly at me. I flipped the little card in my hands and hesitated. “You said five minutes,” I glanced back down the empty hall, half expecting Mr. Ginetti to be staring me down waiting for my return.
“Just consider this your orientation Ms. Lane.” Givanni’s mouth lifted into a smile, and with a shrug, I stepped through. The door slid closed behind me. Our descent was quick and smoother than an elevator should have been. We sat silently, and could only have traveled a couple floors down when the door opened again. If the generous elevator had surprised me, it was nothing compared to the expanse we had come to.
An entire floor stretched out in front of us, as open as a warehouse. The concrete had been polished to a heavy gloss, and a pieced together living room took up the center with a rug, couches, and a wide television attached by cords to the ceiling. Various tables and projects scattered along the perimeter of the room, with a pale orange car the color of the sky at sunrise basking in one corner. I had expected to see only offices and dull hallways. Givanni watched me from one of the far tables, his lip lifted at the end like he had just pulled down a grin.
“Oh,” I hurried over with the heels of my shoes echoing. He looked at the table in front of us like it was loaded with diamonds. I observed the confusing gadget closest to us. It had a screen that resembled a cell phone, but was connected to a metal box with sides like an octagon and had three wires protruding from it. Aside it was a flat mesh-like filter, framed in by metal sides. There were easily a dozen more items, each as individual as the first. I couldn’t figure out why he had brought me to this rather incredible room.
“Shellbrook is more than an oil company,” he started, walking down the table with his hand hovering over each object. “We are constantly inventing, pushing the limits to what we can do, and what we can protect. Los Angeles is a bit populated,” He glanced back at my smirk. “And we are considered a risk. You haven’t seen it yet, but when activists get really stirred up, the grounds become a beehive of protests.” He reached the end of the table and tapped two fingers down on it. “This is what keeps them at bay. They want this.” He shook his head, “I’ve never seen a city so eager to be first at everything. The entire place is like a spoiled child used to getting whatever it wants - and getting it before everyone else. After a break-in at Guadalupe Island, we were forced to move and wanted to be within the US for protection. Our inventive technology is the only way we were able to build here. But leaving Mexico was a hard hit for the company. The fact that we only had to move up the coastline helped, but it’s been rough.” His eyes had settled somewhere far away, and he stood for a moment lost in the place. I watched the way small creases formed between his eyebrows, and the pull of his mouth turn downward. It was like he was lost in battle, and I hesitated to wake him.
With a breath he was back, straightening his stance and smiling at me with energy. “But besides all that, this is what I love. It pulls me in. I feel like a mad scientist when I’m down here.” He laughed, the sound a little shaky, and looked back at me again. This time I could see it, the way he was waiting for my reaction - my approval. A thousand questions had lined up in my head at his little speech, but I pushed them away.
“It’s incredible,” I gushed, trying to hold back a portion of what I felt. He didn’t need to know how completely amazed I was. But a little praise wouldn’t hurt. “When we got in that elevator, I never would have believed we were headed here. It’s nothing like the offices above, not that they’re not nice, they’re gorgeous, but this is something completely different.” I felt like I was about to giggle, and mashed my lips together. He was scanning the room as I spoke and looked back in the sudden silence.
“It is incredible,” he agreed. “I just wanted you to know that you are part of something unique here.” The energy left his face and shadows returned. “Let me just share something with you if I could? Please keep this confidential.” He waited for me to nod, and I refused to let my eyes wander to the clock. Mr. Ginetti would have to wait. “You were hired to do a job, and it’s up to Marco what responsibilities you’re given. It could be that he’s putting you through a trial period first instead of trusting you with anything important.” He stopped, glancing at me on that last word like he wished he would have said something else. I shrugged. That was pretty accurate. It seemed to fit. “But personally I think there are problems within the company that he wants to cover up before handing finances over to you.” He paused and let that sink in. It was one whale of an assumption. “I’m not just jumping to conclusions on this. He’s lied to me before - I know something is going on. I’ve known for a while, even before you were hired. Marco and I have both
been at risk over the past few months. I’ve had my office broken into. Marco came to work with a limp two weeks ago, and now he checks the locks at least three times before leaving at night. Something's up.” I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say to that. He seemed to be expecting a reply, but I remained silent, studying the way his eyes battled within like he was fighting the urge to tell me more.
“That accident on the freeway Ms. Lane,” he spoke softly, his words slow and precise. “It could have killed you.” I nodded, having already exhausted that thought the very night of the accident. “Of course,” He shook his head. “Of course you know that, but with all that Shellbrook has dealt with in the past. With all that is going on, I have to assume the accident was deliberate. I have to assume it was an attempt on Marco’s life.” He allowed that last thought to cure in the silence and grow stronger. “So, when I ask you to be careful, I hope you know how seriously you must take it. This company is in danger, and you are a part of the company. Remember that. ”
Our conversation ended soon after, and we took the elevator up to the main level. The entire morning could have been a dream - an underground lab and evil scientist. Bad guys hiding in the bushes just waiting to get in. I couldn’t get those images out of my mind the rest of the day. But however I wanted to imagine things, one thing had become sure…
There was definitely more to my job than phone calls.
Chapter 3
A line of thick brown sky filled my rearview mirror, the true filth of the city only visible by rising above it. I breathed in deep, savoring the smog-free air. The curves of the road stretched up through the grapevine and out of the valley, and just like that, I was free. The rush of a million strangers was easy for me to leave behind, and it always surprised me how quickly the congested streets became dust and desert grass.
