The Secret (The Scinegue Series Book 1)

by S. R. Booth

  Without glancing in his direction she started briskly towards a hall to the right, the opposite direction from Mr. Bryant’s office, her high heels tapping smartly with each step and echoing through the large open lobby. “Follow me, please.”

  Billy stopped where he was, his eyes drawn to the beautiful multicolored ceiling, but his words were directed to the receptionist’s back. “Ma’am? I’m not sure what’s going on. I really need to get to work.”

  Ms. Sinclair glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see she wasn’t being followed as directed. Her lovely features dipped into an impatient frown as she looked at Billy with piercing green eyes.

  “Mr. Roth,” she articulated each word, “that is exactly what I am trying to do. Get you to work. If you will follow me as I asked, I will escort you to your office, then alert the tailor that he can come take your measurements. Mr. Bryant has asked that you spend today filling out paperwork for your new position and reviewing these documents.” She held up a large envelope along with the stack of papers she was holding.

  “What new position?” Billy tore his gaze from the enticing ceiling and focused on the impatient woman before him. “Mr. Bryant talked to me about a new position here,” he said shaking his head, “but I haven’t accepted yet. I was supposed to have access to some information before I made my decision.”

  Looking at him as if he was crazy, Ms. Sinclair spoke calmly. “I believe this is the information you wanted.” She indicated the stack of papers she was holding. “Mr. Bryant said he wants you on the job immediately and that you can talk later.”

  “But what about my other job?” Billy looked towards the front door. “And Michael, my driver? He’s going to wonder what happened to me.”

  “Your previous job has been filled,” she replied shortly. “This ‘Michael’ has a job to do and I am quite sure he is doing it. Unlike some of us,” she muttered as she turned back towards the hall to the right, calling over her shoulder, “Now please, follow me.”

  Billy reluctantly followed her through the lobby past a comfortable looking arrangement of chairs. As they neared the lobby wall, he noticed discreetly placed artificial lighting which augmented the flickering gas flames. He’d wondered how the sconces on the wall were able to keep the room so bright. He decided they were for ambiance more than lighting, but they were still impressive.

  Even as he appreciated the overwhelming beauty of the room, his mind worked to unravel his current situation. Mr. Bryant assumed he would take the job and took it upon himself to set things in motion. His old position had been filled, so if he didn’t take this job, he would probably be out of work completely. What did this mean for Sarah? he wondered. He certainly wasn’t going to divorce her, but Mr. Bryant had made it clear he could only have this position if he did.

  Ms. Sinclair disappeared into an office. Billy followed her, stopping just inside the doorway. While Mr. Bryant’s office had been exquisite, this was beyond words.

  The wood-paneled room was spacious and elegantly decorated, with a couple of amazingly realistic paintings on the walls. But its most outstanding feature was the view through a wall of glass along the back of the room. A towering fountain surrounded by fanciful mosaics and lush green plants was the central focus. It appeared to be a central court and he guessed it must have cost thousands—possibly millions—of dollars to build. He couldn’t even fathom that kind of money.

  Ms. Sinclair was watching Billy and his awe-filled expression made her smile. “Pretty impressive, huh?” she asked, forgetting her cold, clipped speech for just a minute. “I still remember when I first started here. The building just doesn’t look like much from the outside, does it?”

  Billy shook his head mutely, tearing his gaze from the view through the back wall to study the furnishings and paintings before walking to the gorgeous dark wood desk Ms. Sinclair had set the stack of papers on.

  Her voice became terse and fully professional once again. “The lavatory is through here.” She indicated a door with a wave of her hand. “A kitchenette is across the hall and is only used by you and a few other employees. A gym is at the end of this hall and to the right. Everyone in this wing has access to it and is encouraged to use it often. It’s critical that we stay in shape, as you know.”

  Billy felt as if he didn’t know anything and stood staring at her with questions in his eyes.

  Ms. Sinclair walked briskly toward the door. “I will schedule the tailor as soon as possible. I suggest you get started on that paperwork.” She indicated the pile she left on his desk. “Mr. Bryant is eager to have you working so you need to get the preliminaries taken care of.” With that she walked out, closing the door behind her and leaving Billy in a state of bewilderment.

  “What tailor?” Billy finally managed to ask the closed door.

  Billy looked around the expanse of the room. This was his office? Why would he, a trash collector only yesterday, have a nicer office than Mr. Bryant, who seemed to be pretty high up in the company?

  Left alone in the room, he marveled at the beautiful artwork on the walls, ran his hands along the ornate woodwork on the back of a chair, and finally sat in the plush leather chair behind the desk, unable to resist giving it a spin.

  This was a misunderstanding, a miscommunication, a mis-something. He had to talk to Mr. Bryant before things went any further. He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, his mind spinning even faster than the chair had. Maybe this wasn’t really his office. Maybe it was a teaser just to show him what he would miss out on if he didn’t take the job. But what about all the paperwork the receptionist had left him? He sat forward to take a look at it.

  There were several new employee information forms on the clipboard for him to fill out. Nothing too exciting. He opened the large, bulky envelope and dumped its contents onto the desk. Keys and garage door openers slid out before the papers. Billy picked up a key and read the information written on the temporary key ring: 72 Pleasant St.

  He froze as it hit him. He knew that address. It was on his route. In Scinegue. The nicest neighborhood out of the three he worked. He closed his eyes and pictured the street trying to envision the exact house, but he hadn’t ever paid too much attention to the street numbers.

  He did know that there wasn’t a house in the neighborhood that wasn’t gorgeous. He picked up a garage door opener and turned it over in his hand. It wasn’t labeled nor was the other when he checked it out. He had to assume they went to the same house as the keys.

  The next key ring he picked up held several keys each labeled with white tags: Office, Kitchenette 3, Gym 3 and Lobby. Pretty straightforward.

  The last key was obviously to a vehicle. It had a remote access pad with it and was labeled F14, followed by what was probably a license plate number.

  He laid the keys out side by side on the desk and released a long, slow breath as his eyes skipped from one set to the next. They sure knew how to tempt a guy. If it wasn’t for the ‘you have to divorce Sarah’ part, he knew it would be hard to turn this job down, no matter what the company did. His eyes narrowed as he realized he still didn’t have any idea what the job even was.

  The papers from the envelope were lying on the desk, and he noticed a handwritten note attached to the first page.

  After speaking with the Tops, it was decided that your wife is not an issue at the moment. Being married to her does not disqualify you from the position. In light of this, I have taken it upon myself to proceed. Please spend today reviewing the information included and familiarizing yourself with the company.

  Unless I hear differently from you, movers will relocate you to your new house tomorrow. The house is yours upon your acceptance of this position, provided by the company. Utilities and upkeep are your responsibility. The vehicle is also yours with the same stipulation; fuel and maintenance expenses are your responsibility. Your salary will be tripled, effective today, and a tailor will provide you with an appropriate wardrobe, again at the company’s expense. If you find all
of this acceptable, please meet with me in my office at eight a.m. tomorrow.

  Until then,

  Eugene Bryant

  Billy shook his head and smiled. This was unbelievable. His smile faded as his dad’s favorite expression ran through his mind: If something seems too good to be true, it probably is. This was definitely too good to be true. He didn’t even know what his job would be. What kind of company hired someone without even telling them what the job entailed?

  He wished he could call Sarah to get her opinion on the job and its incredible benefits, but he preferred to have that conversation privately, without bugs. Even if his home phone wasn’t bugged, he felt sure this office phone was. For all he knew, the whole office building might be bugged.

  He scanned over the note again. “Whoa! Triple salary!” he couldn’t help exclaiming. His salary was already outrageous considering the job he was doing. What on earth would he have to do for this kind of money?

  He gave his chair another spin and ended up facing the center court. He was mesmerized by the tranquil view through the window. Varying shades of blue in the beautiful mosaic tiles and sparkling water in the fountain lent the center court a cool, relaxing atmosphere, and occasional splashes of contrasting colors added a bright cheerfulness.

  A sharp knock on the door startled him and he realized he hadn’t read through all the paperwork yet. If that was Mr. Bryant coming to check up on him, he wasn’t going to be off to a very good start.

  “Come in?” he called towards the door, wondering if he should go open it himself. Before he could, a tall, thin man with black hair slicked back from his long, narrow face hurried in wearing a carefully pressed suit and carrying a measuring tape and a pad of paper.

  “Mr. Roth,” the man said with a slight accent. “Please stand over here and I will take your measurements.”

  “Measurements for what?” Billy’s voice rose questioningly.

  The man looked at him with a frown. “Forgive me, I am Anthony. The tailor? I was quite sure you were notified that I would be taking your measurements for an office wardrobe.”

  “Oh, wow, okay. That was fast.” Billy shook his head in disbelief that this was really happening.

  “I would also be pleased to provide personal attire for you and any family members,” the man continued briskly, “however, the company does not pay for that. If you decide you are interested in my services in that direction, contact me and we can discuss costs and styles. Now,” he waved impatiently for Billy to come to him, “this way please. I won’t take five minutes of your time.”

  True to his word he had Billy extend his arms and twirl around while he measured everything necessary, and was gone with a brief, “Thank you, sir. Good day,” leaving Billy breathless.

  Billy glanced around the office—his office—once again, and decided no matter if this really became his office or not he would at least explore so he could tell Sarah all about it. He walked into the lavatory. It was like a bathroom from a mansion. Or what he pictured a mansion’s bathroom would look like. There was a lot of dark wood and marble countertops, with a huge walk-in shower lined with what looked to him like black slate walls. A Jacuzzi tub was set beside it surrounded by a marble floor.

  The floor was a light beige color with streaks of darker shades of brown running through it that complemented the wood in the room. It was shiny and smooth with plush, neutral rugs spread in front of both the vanity and shower. A small, separate room revealed the toilet and a bidet.

  He turned in a slow circle, taking in the size and extravagance of the room. Someone must expect him to spend an awful lot of time at the office to need a bathroom like this, he decided.

  He returned to his desk intent on perusing the remaining papers, but his eyes and thoughts were repeatedly drawn to the keys he had lined up in a row on the desktop. Mansion, new car, amazing pay and Sarah? His heart pounded. It didn’t matter what his job here was, his eyes shifted around the office again. He could do it. He nodded to himself. He would do it.

  He and Sarah had just let their imaginations run wild with the information they’d found. And Farmer Dan and his wife? They were nice enough people, but what did they really know about Scinegue? If they had any hard evidence that bad things were happening here they would have just told everyone last night at the meeting.

  He steepled his fingers under his chin and pictured Sarah in a huge, magazine-worthy kitchen, as he had before. This time he could make it work. He could see her cooking something delicious on a huge stove and smiling over her shoulder at him.

  Of course she would have some kind of music playing. Classical? He grinned at the picture, knowing Sarah’s eclectic taste in music could make that happen. With the income he would be making and no car or house payment, they could decorate any way they wanted and make it elegant but still homey. They could be happy there.

  He looked around the office again before glancing down at his plain khakis and golf shirt. He might not fit in right now, but he was smart. He had always planned to have some type of office job. Give him the right clothes and some work to do, and he felt he could fit right in.

  He dug back into the paperwork with determination, filling out forms and reading a brief history of the company. Nothing he read sounded bad. It seemed like they were just trying to make the world the best place it could be for everyone. He was all for that.

  The worst thing he knew about the company was they wanted him to divorce Sarah. Well, they’d obviously changed their minds. They hadn’t included the list of criteria that he and Mr. Bryant had spoken about, he realized, but decided there was probably some type of misunderstanding about that entire situation.

  He finished the paperwork and pulled his cell phone from his pocket to check the time. It was only nine o’clock. He drummed his fingers on the desktop and wondered what he was supposed to do for the whole day.

  Grabbing the ring of keys for the office, he headed to explore the rest of the building. He approached his door cautiously, then peeked out feeling as if he might get in trouble if he was seen. With no one in sight in either direction, he took a left away from the front desk, and started his explorations.

  The doors were spread out, and each one he came to was closed. He finally found an open door to the right, and looking inside, realized it was the ‘kitchenette’ Ms. Sinclair had mentioned.

  Some kitchenette! It put the kitchen of his imaginings to shame. An island with a vent-a-hood over it held a full stove with several burners, and then a grill area and a flat area that looked like a Hibachi grill.

  A huge stainless steel refrigerator stood against the wall. When Billy looked inside he found it fully stocked: bottled juices and mineral water, wrapped packages labeled ‘grass fed’ beef, chicken and pork, a couple of drawers filled with fresh fruits and veggies and some typical condiments lined the shelves.

  Billy wondered if he was expected to cook as he opened the cupboards and found various pots and pans and cooking utensils. A pantry revealed every baking supply he could imagine. Various sized glass jars were filled and clearly labeled with staples like flour, sugar, starch, grains and beans.

  A chart on the inside of the pantry door listed types of food, phone numbers and names, with instructions at the bottom on how and when to place an order with each chef. Nice, he thought with a nod, glad he wouldn’t be expected to do any cooking himself.

  He closed the pantry door and walked past a dining room table, set for four with what looked like very expensive dishes and tableware. Were he and the other men—people, he corrected himself, unsure of who shared this kitchen—required to eat together? None of the paperwork said anything about that.

  He left the kitchen and continued exploring, finding the gym not much farther down the hall. It was filled with a wide assortment of modern workout equipment, and he could see a lap pool through a glass wall at the back of the room.

  Unlike the kitchen which had been deserted, the gym was hopping. Both men and women were putting the equipm
ent to good use. All tall and already looking physically fit, some were reading paperwork as they used the treadmills and stair-steppers, and others chatted on their phones or watched one of the TVs suspended from the ceiling as they put in their workout time.

  Everyone appeared to be wearing professional exercise clothes. No cutoffs or ripped t-shirts here. Billy wondered, only slightly facetiously, if this was part of the clothing the tailor would provide for him. Well, it didn’t appear any of this was custom-made. There were plenty of name brands prominently displayed.

  No one had even turned to look at Billy when he came in so he quietly backed out of the room, feeling more comfortable not drawing any attention to himself. He returned to his office and was again overwhelmed by the lavishness of it. How had he gone from a garbage truck one day to this the next? There was no way Sarah would believe this.

  Thinking of Sarah, he pictured her reaction when he told her about his new job. He realized she was not going to just forget about the strange stuff they’d discovered about the company. He exhaled deeply. And she shouldn’t forget about it, neither of them should.

  They just needed to be a little more open to other possibilities. They had both gotten so caught up with the codes and mysterious meetings that it had been easy to believe something sinister was going on at Scinegue. That didn’t mean anything really was.

  Chapter 12

  Only mid-morning, Billy sat anxiously behind his desk for a full five minutes before cautiously pushing the intercom button on his phone. Recognizing Ms. Sinclair’s voice, he relaxed. “Yes, I was wondering if you knew when I could leave for the day?”

  Sounding surprised, she answered him, “Mr. Roth, you are of course in charge of when you come and go. If you’ve finished what is required of you for the day, you are free to leave.”

  “Well,” Billy looked at the papers on his desk, “I went through the paperwork you left and filled out the forms. I don’t know of anything else I’m supposed to do. Do you?” he asked hopefully.