The Clock

by Kathryn Wise

  Rachel saw an opportunity. “That sounds workable, but I have one request. I’ve learned through my acquisitions research that Mr. Haddad probably works for Ms. Lawrence. I’d like to request that he be considered for the team.”

  Trader looked surprised. “Ms. Wheaton, as you can see, Syed is not in attendance today. He’s still in re…uh, enjoying some family time at home. I’m not sure he’s the best choice, at least not under the circumstances.”

  “And what circumstances would those be?” Rachel asked.

  “Excuse me,” interrupted Ms. Lawrence. “Syed Haddad is under consideration for a transfer to a different group. Trust me, Ms. Wheaton; I am fully capable of selecting a suitable team member for your little endeavor. You just leave that to me-”

  “Now Calista darling, there’s no need to diminish the importance of Ms. Wheaton’s potential role with the company,” Mrs. Priestly said, obviously enjoying the exchange. Ms. Lawrence sat back, acquiescing to Mrs. Priestly.

  “Ms. Wheaton, Syed may not be suitable for your team, but I would be happy to facilitate a discussion with just the three of us at your convenience. Say…next week, assuming Mr. Haddad returns to work,” Mrs. Priestly said.

  “That’s very generous of you, Mrs. Priestly, but if there’s going to be a discussion with Mr. Haddad, I’d prefer to set the conditions,” Rachel said.

  Grayson turned toward the group. “Jack, if you’d like, I can continue in the role I’ve been playing in regard to Ms. Wheaton’s recruitment process. I’d be happy to facilitate any discussions she might want to have with specific team members. That is, if she’s comfortable with my presence,” Grayson said.

  “Oh, no you-,” Mrs. Priestly started.

  “Veronica, let me handle this,” Trader said. “Michael, I think that’s a good compromise. I’m fine with you continuing in that role. In fact, consider yourself the point person for coordinating any additional discussions.”

  Mrs. Priestly shot Grayson some real daggers, but he didn’t respond in kind. Rachel thought it was weird…he actually smiled at her. Not a sarcastic smile. It looked more like pity mixed with a pinch of triumph.

  “Thanks Jack. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, do you want to talk offer?” Grayson asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Trader said. “Ms. Wheaton, we’re prepared to offer you an annual salary of $625,000 plus a bonus of up to 150% of your base pay contingent upon achievement of performance targets. We’d like you to start as soon as possible pending agreement on a performance plan and selection of the specific members of your team.”

  Rachel couldn’t believe her ears. $625,000 was an awful lot of money for a technologist. Virtual Life obviously wanted her for more than her data forensics skills. Just gaining possession of the key case couldn’t possibly account for such a grandiose offer. There was something else.

  “That’s a very generous offer, Mr. Trader,” Rachel said, trying not to show her surprise. “I’ll take it under advisement. In the meantime, I’d like to begin working with Mr. Raphael. We can start by creating a team profile from which to develop a list of proposed candidates. If we start right away, we can have a list by tomorrow afternoon,” Rachel said.

  There was an interesting stir in the room, as if the group was unaccustomed to a person asserting their wishes. Trader sat up a little taller, seemingly satisfied with how Rachel had effectively ignored Mrs. Priestly during the discussion.

  “Yes, Ms. Wheaton. That sounds fine,” Trader said, glancing smugly at Mrs. Priestly. The look on her face promised trouble later on.

  “Great. Then Mr. Raphael and I will be off to start talking profiles,” Rachel said, standing to leave. Several of the others rose as well, quiet but nodding in agreement. “We will be in contact,” Grayson said as he followed Rachel out of the room.

  The elevator door closed behind them. Rachel gave Grayson a questioning glance. She wondered what was going on between him and Mrs. Priestly.

  Grayson shook his head as if he knew what was on her mind. He looked exhausted.

  Chapter Three

  Tea Time

  The ride back to The Kimberly passed with only the sound of Diana Krall singing softly through the back passenger sound system. Grayson didn’t seem like his usual upbeat self. Rachel thought it better not to push. The truth would emerge on its own and in its own time.

  They decided to meet later at Grayson’s “Michael Raphael” loft in Tribeca to start working on a plan. And then dinner. In the meantime, Rachel wanted to steal away for a few quiet hours.

  “We’re here. Here’s the address of my loft. How about we get an early start, say around 3 o’clock?” Grayson asked as he handed her the slip of paper. The limo slowly came to a stop before the passenger door was opened by one of the hotel doormen.

  “That sounds perfect,” Rachel said. She studied Grayson’s face, trying to gauge his feelings. “Are you all right?”

  “No, not really.” He paused, realizing Rachel might be thinking it was something she’d said or done. “No no…it has nothing to do with you. And I don’t want you to think it does, you understand me?” A hint of a smile broke around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. “Things are difficult for me right now.” He paused. “Um…I’m not at liberty-”

  “Gray…Michael, if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know. Don’t hesitate. Please.”

  “Ms. Wheaton, you’ve already helped me more than you know.”

  Rachel smiled, shook Grayson’s hand, and said, “Thank you, Mr. Raphael. I will see you at 3 o’clock.” Grayson nodded his goodbye and the waiting doorman’s white gloved hand took hers, assisting her out of the limo’s passenger cab. It was Charles Bannister, at her service.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Wheaton. How are you today?” Charles asked.

  “I’m doing well, Charles. Thank you for asking. The more important question is ‘how are you doing?’”

  “I’m well, Ms. Wheaton. I see you’re still getting the star treatment,” Charles said as the two of them watched the limo drive away. Grayson saluted her through the back window as the vehicle disappeared down the street.

  “Yes, he’s a very nice man,” Rachel said, letting a little dreamy-eyed sigh accidentally escape.

  Charles smiled.

  “What?” Rachel stammered.

  “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, Ms. Wheaton.” Charles cleared his throat. “However, I do have a message for you. Amir, the concierge, would like you to stop by his podium at your earliest convenience. He will be on duty until 6 o’clock tonight. I think he has set up something special for you in your room. Don’t tell him I told you. He might want it to be a surprise.”

  “Well, I can see I need to be careful with what I tell you in the future!” Rachel said, chuckling.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re correct. Have a good afternoon, Ms. Wheaton.”

  “Thanks Charles. You too,” Rachel said as she turned toward the hotel entrance.

  A request from Amir - that means something’s up.

  A few dozen people milled around the hotel foyer, most of them congregating near the registrar’s desk. And something new: a string quartet situated at the end of the long dark hallway playing a beautiful piece by Tchaikovsky. The group’s moody strings filled the atmosphere with a sweet romantic ambiance that took Rachel into a soul-dreamy state. One of the violinists caught her eye and smiled, nodding once to acknowledge her appreciation of the music.

  A middle-aged couple stood at the concierge podium, talking with Amir about restaurants and theatre tickets. He held his reliable clipboard, flipping through the latest theatre flyers to sort out ticket options for his guests. Rachel waited in line a few feet behind the couple, catching Amir’s eye. He grinned, seemingly glad to see her.

  “You’re all set, Mr. and Mrs. Knight,” Amir said as he handed them their dinner reservation details and theatre tickets. Rachel stepped up as they departed.

  “Good day, Ms. Wheaton. It’s wonderful to see you,” Amir
said. “How was your interview this morning?”

  “It was interesting, to be sure. Very intriguing. They have some big ideas; maybe too big. Uh…anyway, Charles asked me to check in with you. Do you have time to talk now?”

  Amir looked up, noting the line forming behind Rachel. “I’m scheduled for a break in 20 minutes. Is it possible for you to wait until then? We could talk over a cup of tea if you’d like.”

  “I would love to. Where would you like to meet?” Rachel asked.

  “There’s a tea house two doors down. It’s called Radiance Tea House and Books. I can meet you there at 10:35.”

  “That’s perfect. That gives me time to change. I’m looking forward to it,” Rachel said as she stepped aside to make room for the next guest. Amir nodded his agreement and gave her a friendly salute before turning to the next in line. “Good morning sir. How may I help you today?”

  Rachel grabbed the first empty elevator car and made it to her room in record time. The room had been made up, this time in no extraordinary way. She hadn’t yet finished her review of the entry logs Amir had gathered for her. With Dennis out of the picture, it didn’t seem like a high priority. Or so she told herself. She had to admit, it bothered her, and she wasn’t one to let nagging thoughts linger too long. She knew she’d push herself to make the time, but this was a tough one.

  The idea of someone going through all of her personal things without her permission brought back a wave of hurt from the past. Some of the foster families she’d lived with were paranoid suspicious types, always putting her under watch; searching her room; and scrutinizing everything she said or did. They constantly questioned her motives and character. It was demoralizing. She wasn’t sure she’d ever really recovered from the trauma.

  Through those years, the entire time, Rachel always knew deep inside that she wasn’t alone. There had been a presence. It guided her, often steering her down unexpected paths: better and safer paths. Her parents openly talked about the presence of a Guide in their lives. Both her mother and father were temperamentally humble and sweet, often feeling just as much in awe of their own innovative ideas as anyone else. Her mother once said that she and her father often found themselves working within a creative zone, plucking ideas from the air as the two engaged in brain storming sessions, feeding off the energy thrown up by the ideas themselves. The harmony and synergy of the ideas fell into place with no effort on their part. Her mom believed the ideas were there for them to discover.

  Time was precious, especially today. Rachel shook off her train of thought and started toward the bedroom.

  “Gasp! Oh my gosh…this is awesome!”

  There, halfway down the hallway sitting on a narrow console, was a phone-charging dock that doubled as a sound system. A very nice sound system, at that.

  “Oh my gosh, this is so sweet.”

  She was touched. Her eyes welled up, and her chin quivered. On the rare occasion when someone unexpectedly did something for her, she felt overwhelmed. Like she’d been seen. And understood. There was nothing else like it.

  She grabbed her phone and chose a jazz station, set it on the dock, and turned on the sound. A rich and soulful melody instantly filled the suite. Although it would have been fun to hang out for a bit, it was time to get moving. Fed up with fitted suits and heels, she grabbed a pair of Fabrizio Giani cigarette pants from the closet, pairing them with a tailored cotton blouse and some comfortable flats. The pants weren’t the most flattering, showing slightly too much definition of her muscular legs, but they were the most comfortable. Despite the fun of sporting designer suits and killer shoes, it was time to go incognito and blend in. Checking herself in the mirror one more time, she switched off the music, grabbed her phone off the dock, and headed to the lobby.

  The fresher than usual morning air gave her a shot of energy as she exited the hotel and took a left down E. 50th, walking quickly toward the restaurant located mid-block between 3rd and 2nd. If it were this same hour on a day moving toward summer, the air would not be as sweet and refreshing. Fortunately for her and her hair, the humidity hadn’t yet arrived. She held no nostalgia for the smell of garbage in the too-moist air of the summer streets. Sanitation worker strikes were not unheard of; the city could be due for another.

  The wind came up, sending an untimely breath of warmth right through to her insides, a breath instilling within her a peaceful readiness. Any weariness or frazzled nerves had suddenly become memories. These “out of nowhere” winds of change usually happened when she least expected it, which made the experience all the more powerful in its affect. Sometimes there wasn’t a wind; only a stirring of energy in her chest like when her dad would drive the jeep too fast over the hills on her Aunt’s farm, catching air over every rise. It was a thrilling feeling, emboldening her to run directly toward the next great challenge.

  Renewed in spirit, Rachel quickened her gait, reaching the entry doors of Radiance Tea House and Books at 10:35 am.

  Chapter Four

  Vague Recollections

  Amir followed her in.

  “Oh! Why didn’t you say something? Were you right behind me?” Rachel asked.

  “Yes, but I can’t keep up with you!”

  “What’s the matter, Amir? A little out of shape, are you?” Rachel asked. He looked deflated. “Oh come on, I’m just kidding.”

  “Hah…yes, I suppose you’re right, Ms. Wheaton. I do feel at ease with you. Let’s get a table and order. I’ve reserved one of the booths,” Amir said.

  “Okie dokie. Let’s do this!” Rachel said. She felt almost giddy with anticipation about her “adventure.” The tea house host, who obviously knew Amir, exchanged a few whispers with Amir before escorting them to a table away from the main seating area.

  “Amir, did you want to tell me something about my room?” Rachel asked, a twinkle in her eye.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Wheaton, I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about,” Amir said.

  “Come on, Amir. I know what you did. And it was absolutely lovely and fabulous and thoughtful! It made me cry…a little. How did you know-,”

  “Ms. Wheaton, you’re very welcome,” Amir said, smiling warmly. “But I can’t take all the credit for it.”

  “What do you mean?” Rachel didn’t like surprises. At least not the kind that meant trouble.

  Amir stopped, realizing she was concerned. “Oh no, its fine, really. I happened to mention to the gentleman who’s been accompanying you in your various limousine rides that-“

  “You mean Mr. Raphael?” Rachel asked.

  “Yes, I believe that’s his name. Anyway, he overheard me mention that we received a comment from a guest regarding the music coming from your room yesterday morning. He asked if I knew who the artist was and as it happened, the guest who had complained…er…I mean commented about the noise mentioned the group. I’ve never heard of them. It was something like Slinky and the Family. Mr. Raphael knew right away who it was. Anyway, that’s what happened. He arranged for me to setup a sound system so that you might find listening more enjoyable. I assumed it would be all right since the two of you seemed friendly. At least that’s what Charles said.”

  Rachel was relieved. “Charles, huh? I’ll have to have a little chat with him,” Rachel said, smiling. “So wow…that’s really something. I mean, really, that’s something, Amir. Mr. Raphael seems like a considerate person, don’t you think? I think so. And you…well, you’re an incredible concierge,” Rachel said.

  A smartly uniformed server appeared at table-side to take their order. “Good morning, sir. Would you like your usual selection today?”

  Amir looked at Rachel, considering what she might prefer. “Yes, I think that will be best,” Amir said. “Thank you, Jai.”

  “As you wish, sir.” Jai disappeared to go take care of the order.

  Amir looked down, quiet. He seemed to be searching for words. She waited, watching, reading his demeanor.

  “It’s okay, Amir. Take your time.”<
br />
  Amir looked up. His expression was familiar, like another deja vu. Not two hours before Grayson’s face had looked the same.

  “What’s wrong, Amir? Why are you sad?”

  “Ms. Wheaton, I’m sorry, but this isn’t easy. It won’t be easy for you either.”

  Rachel wasn’t sure where Amir was going, but didn’t want him to pull back. “Please, go on,” Rachel said.

  “Okay.” Amir took another deep breath. “I have a dear friend. We’ve been friends since university, closer than brothers, and I know if the tables were turned, he would want to do all he could for me.” He sighed. “Ms. Wheaton. He’s in serious trouble. And I need your help.”

  “My help? Gee…I wasn’t expecting that. Um…okay…yes, of course. If I can help, I certainly will. Go on.”

  “My friend and I have always been there for each other, but I think we’re facing a difficult challenge.” Amir’s eyes turned glassy. “Ms. Wheaton, someone is putting pressure on him, forcing him to do things he doesn’t want to do. They’re threatening to hurt his family, including his sister, my fiancé.”

  Bloody hell.

  “I’m a little confused. Does this have something to do with me? Why do you think I can help him?”

  “The people threatening him are affiliated with Virtual Life.”

  What? Could it…

  “Amir…what’s your friend’s name?”

  “Syed Haddad.”

  Why did I know that?

  The server appeared with a tray of tea selections, including two beautiful teacups trimmed in 14K gold, vibrant with colorful designs hand painted on the polished porcelain surface. They were distractingly beautiful, catching Rachel’s eye.