by Holly Rayner
Kally glossed over the fact that she had just turned one of the most powerful men in America’s oil industry into her bartender. Don Lewis Jr. was a man she knew well from the days when she could call herself a journalist without saying “former” first. Ever the stereotypical Texas cowboy, he’d stood against his shareholders, the press, and several congressional committees.
He met every challenge with unflappable charm. No one had seen him so much as sweat in nearly two decades. Just before the Republic went under, she’d been trying to pressure him to comment on the insider trading scandal he’d gotten tangled up in. His guilt had been obvious to children, babies, and the more intelligent farm animals for months at that point. Anyone else would have been sweating bullets, but the Don, as some people called him, had simply smiled and denied everything. If he didn’t call her here to write a memoir, Kally wasn’t sure she wanted to know what she was doing there.
“Whatever you lied about, it better not be the money,” she remarked, taking a pensive sip of her drink. “It’s way too late for foolishness like that.” She eyed him as she said this, but Don only smiled and swallowed a bit of his bourbon.
“Would I be so devious, Kally? The money's as described, you don't need to worry about that; what I lied about was the assignment. See, I heard you’re working for a certain Mr. Alexandros Stratos.”
“What of it?” Kally asked, suddenly on her guard. How the hell had Don found out so fast?
“I’ve been trying to get the drop on that Greek for years. The man’s rubbed me up the wrong way a few times. Let’s just say I’d give anything to be the fly on the wall, if ya take my meaning.”
“I take your meaning all right,” said Kally, polishing off her drink, and considering the implications of giving Don the confidential details of Stratos' murky past. “It’s the job I have reservations about. What you’re asking for is unethical.”
For a second or two, Kally allowed herself to wonder if she would have bothered to argue the point before she met Alexandros.
“Depends on how ya look at it, Jones. Way I see it, you’d just be doing ya civic duty. The Greek’s a powerful public figure, and the things he does affect millions of lives. I think the public deserves to know what a man like that’s doin’ behind closed doors, don’t you?” the Texan queried, managing to sound almost magnanimous.
As Kally listened to his pretty bullshit speech, she wondered how much Don knew about what had happened to her. The tenor of his talk was hitting really close to home, and she wasn’t comfortable with it in the least.
If the Texan was indeed trying to tempt her with the idea of revenge, he was succeeding in grand style, because the thought was consuming Kally’s mind. What she was being offered was the ultimate chance to ruin the man who had destroyed her life. It would be revenge for Beth, for her baby son, for all the lives Stratos had bulldozed without the slightest thought. And more than that, if she played her cards right, she could actually walk away with enough money to help some of them. She was surprised she hadn’t agreed already, surprised at herself that she had any qualms about misleading Alexandros.
“I should have got to ya first.” he said calmly, as if reading her mind. “Now he’s told ya some sob story that’s gotcha in his pocket.” Kally turned to face him so quickly she nearly knocked over her glass, and Don struggled to hide a wry little smile.
“I am in nobody’s pocket, do you understand me? Least of all Stratos. I’m a journalist. Or, I used to be, and the code of ethics is still important to me. On top of that, I’d be putting myself at risk of legal action…”
“Which can easily be delayed by a pack of high-priced lawyers. Like the one that’ll be at your disposal if old Alexandros sees fit to make a big thing outta this.”
Kally had a choice before her at last: revenge or ethics, but even this, she knew, was really no choice at all. She was out of excuses, and she could almost hear the eager voice of her friend, Beth, cheering her on. What are you waiting for? the voice whispered in her mind. Now’s your chance to screw that bastard over. And get our pride back, the money…everything! Say yes, Kal. For heaven’s sake, say yes!
“Then I don’t think I can pass up the opportunity,” she said at last.
“I’ll drink to that,” the oilman replied, and refreshed his glass of bourbon.
***
At home, in her shower, as the water rained over her, Kally considered that her life really was turning into a spy movie. That morning she’d woken up a novice non-fiction writer, and somehow, in the intervening hours, she had become a double agent; it was now her job to pry secret information from an oil industry giant.
She had said that to herself at least dozen times so far, but repeating it didn’t make it seem any more real. The whole thing seemed no less absurd when she’d dried herself off, made herself a very, very late diner, and got into bed. Kally almost believed she would wake up the next day to discover it had all been a dream. But, practical as ever, she set her alarm, just in case.
FOUR
Kally didn’t usually need an alarm to wake her up on a Saturday, so when Ride of the Valkyries tore through the air, she was baffled. In a fog, she rolled out of bed, blindly seeking out the source of the noise. Only when she saw her smartphone vibrating on the nightstand did she remember she had somewhere to be. It was nine o’clock. That gave her three hours to eat, make herself presentable, and get to Stratos’ offices. She knew from experience that three hours was much less time than it sounded like, so she forced herself into the kitchen, where she threw some pop tarts in the toaster.
“Breakfast of champions,” she quipped, pouring herself some orange juice. Her mother had always said the stuff woke you right up, and she wasn’t wrong. Halfway through the glass, Kally’s brain started to clear.
Kally was midway through her second tart when Layla called to inquire as to whether she had accepted her second proposal, and Kally began to wonder if her agent was getting a commission for setting up these secret meetings. Even now, on a Saturday, the woman was still selling the project, as if she was afraid Kally might ignore her if she stopped.
“I’ve already agreed to do it!” Kally finally replied sharply, and she heard Layla struggle to remain nonplussed at her tone.
“Alright. I’m sorry to keep bringing it up, but the last company that upset Mr. Lewis ended up filing chapter eleven.”
Kally often joked that Layla had worried her way to the top, and she took a few moments to swear that she wouldn’t make the agency crumble like the walls of Jericho. Then Layla asked if Kally could handle two memoirs at once, and suddenly an idea came to her.
No one could know what Don had asked her to do, not even the woman who had gotten her the job. She would have to maintain a cover story, and lie to all of the people she worked with. Everything had seemed clear a few hours ago, when she had been staring down an arrogant Texan, and her mind had been full of revenge. But now she couldn't quite quash the feeling that she was behaving like a criminal.
Stratos is the real criminal here she kept telling herself, as she forced Layla off of the phone. But saying it and making herself believe it were two entirely different things.
She left her apartment at ten forty-five. She always tried to give herself extra time in case she got turned around somewhere, or got lost altogether. That had happened several times during her first few weeks in New York, and she could not afford to end up halfway across the city with no idea where to go again. It wasn’t long ago that Kally had lived in Washington, DC, where the subway map might have been brought to you by Sesame Street. New York’s version seemed so complicated that Kally thought she’d sooner find Treasure Island than Manhattan.
At the subway station, Kally studied a map of the system on her phone while she waited for her train. She kept getting the feeling that someone was hovering behind her, but whenever she looked, there was no one to be seen. By the fourth time this happened, she had convinced herself it was just jitters, and an old lady was beginning
to look at her funny whenever she suddenly jerked her head around. When the train pulled in, she got on it eagerly, hoping it was just the station that was making her feel nervous. Kally plopped down in the first empty seat she saw, and pulled up an e-book on her phone.
The novel, the system map, and the gaggle of children some poor mother was barely restraining kept Kally’s mind pretty well distracted until she reached the center of the city. She still had plenty of time on her hands, so she bought some iced tea from a food truck, and strolled toward the address Stratos had given her.
In a matter of minutes, she could see the building, and she shook her head as more and more of the huge expanse came into view. She could have found it without the address; much like the Three Rivers, it stood out prominently from everything around it.
The New York offices of Stratos Holdings Inc. were housed in a building made of cream colored brick. It rose into the sky for forty stories, tapering elegantly at the very top. Each of its sides were covered in floor after floor of huge, tinted, windows. Kally doubted anything could be seen through them. At the very top of the side that faced her sat a golden “S” in a circle, the company’s logo. When she reached the building, she found it was set back from the sidewalk to allow a small lawn and a collection of flower bushes to decorate the doorway.
He doesn’t do subtle, does he? Kally thought as she entered the building and came to a stop in the elegant lobby. She noted the fountain bubbling quietly in the center, its waters filled with a vast assortment of coins.
When she told the security guards where she needed to go, she quickly realized that it was a good thing she had arrived early. She had to walk through a metal detector before being wanded, and made to suffer the indignities of a pat down.
Do you honestly think I’m hiding something there? Kally growled internally, eyeing one of the searchers dangerously.
“I’m just doing my job, ma’am,” the woman answered in response to the glare.
Her purse was searched, and when nothing more dangerous than a nail file was found, Kally was led to a private elevator. It featured a touchscreen panel beside the car doors, at chest level, that scanned both of the guards’ fingerprints before accepting a complex code.
“This’ll take you straight up, miss,” one of the guards remarked as the car doors opened. “It’s full of cameras, and a boatload of special sensors. If we’ve missed anything, the elevator will lock you in and hold you until the authorities arrive.”
“There’s a comforting thought,” Kally replied sarcastically, wondering how the overenthusiastic search she’d just been through could have missed anything.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Jones. You’ll be fine. You have no prohibited items on your person. But it’s very important that you remember to…” Kally never heard the rest, as at that exact moment, the doors slid shut in front of her.
“That never gets old,” the guard chuckled, walking away.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t get us fired either,” his companion returned anxiously.
When Kally arrived on the fortieth floor, she was again searched by armed security guards, before being ushered into the office at the end of the hall.
By this time, she was feeling like a harassed pin cushion, and she glared at the security team with contempt on every line of her face. The team seemed to be used to this, and only indicated a door in the center of the hall. The door was made of oak, and the nameplate named the occupant as 'Alexandros Stratos, CEO.'”
“Let the games begin,” she whispered.
FIVE
“Ah, my biographer is here,” Alexandros said warmly, rising from his desk to greet her.
His office was not nearly as extravagant as Kally had expected it to be, but it was certainly beautifully decorated. Oak paneling ran halfway up the walls to meet crimson wallpaper that was embossed with flower patterns. The plush carpeting was a matching color, and a huge, tinted window loomed behind the desk. The desk itself was large, also made of oak, and topped with fine, crimson leather. It was strewn with files, a computer monitor, and a solitary framed photograph. In each corner behind the desk were elegant one-legged tables that bore dozens of small curios from places throughout the world.
“Good morning, Mr. Stratos,” Kally replied, shaking the proffered hand. “Shall we begin?”
“Straight to the point, Ms. Jones. I like your style,” he replied, smiling. “I thought we should begin with my childhood. We touched on it briefly the last time we met.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Well, I grew up in a large but spartan house in Kaminos, with my mother, father, two brothers and a sister. Darius was my elder brother. From my earliest memories of him, he always aimed to please. My mother said that when he was a baby, he wouldn’t even cry for very long. He threw himself into everything he did, but nothing was ever enough for my father. Peter is younger than me. He was always a schemer; he took credit wherever he could get it, sometimes quite ruthlessly. Briza, the youngest, was clever, like my mother. Even at an early age she had a head for figures. She hated our father more than any of us, because everyone was forced to compete except her.”
“Because she was female?”
“That is what Briza thought, but it was really because she was so good with numbers. Our father planned to have her replace my mother as finance director, and he gave her little choice in the matter. Our father raised us with fear and want as bedfellows. He said that way, we would learn the true meaning of life. It started when I was about six years old. One day, there was only one bed for us to sleep in. He’d send us to school for the day, and whichever of us he felt did the best would get the bed. The rest of us would have to sleep on the cold floor. Eventually, Peter turned against me and Darius. He tried to keep us up late, and destroy our homework. At school, he would get us blamed for things we hadn’t done. Anything so that he could get the bed.”
“Didn’t your father ever figure out what Peter was doing?” Kally asked, trying to keep the shock she was feeling out of her voice. She had pulled a tablet out of her purse, and was making notes as Alexandros spoke.
“He encouraged it,” the Greek sighed heavily. “According to him, Peter was showing real survival instinct. A few weeks later, we started competing for food in the same way. Two of us would get just enough to keep us alive, but the most successful one would eat well. 'I don’t support failure!' he’d say. 'If you want to eat, try harder to succeed.'
“We started to hate each other not long after that. I thought of my brothers as my competition. Some days, when my stomach was on fire with pain, I truly wished they didn’t exist. We stole food sometimes, but we’d be beaten for it when we were discovered. Cheating was okay, but somehow, stealing wasn’t. As we grew, everything we did was judged by my father. Chores, schoolwork, our level of obedience. More and more, he gravitated toward Darius. He was willing to spy for my father, and was the easiest to control.”
“You say you thought of your brothers as competition. What about Briza? Was she forced into this too?” Kally intoned.
“No, and I used to despise her for it. I hated her for fighting her situation when it was so perfect. She fought my father tooth and nail. She always had all the food she needed. She never had to sleep on the cold, bare, floor. She didn’t have two sisters trying to sabotage her at every turn. All Briza had to do was get perfect scores in math, and agree to become an accountant someday. I could never understand why she kept on about studying chemistry. Sometimes, I would steal her food, and threaten to hurt her if she told anyone. I used to call her every vicious thing I could think of. I tried to make her suffer so her life would be as bad as mine. As I’m saying it now, it’s hard to believe, but hunger can drive people to do terrible things.”
“Your father had no compunction about turning his children against each other?” Kally asked incredulously. She was picturing the children she had seen on the subway having to fight for one plate of food. “Didn’t your mother try to stop him from carrying on tha
t way?”
The look that came over Alexandros’ face made Kally wish she hadn’t asked.
“She tried,” Alexandros replied quietly, with a sad glance at one of the curio tables. “Whenever she challenged him, or provided us with food, she suffered for it. I used to run away to my grandfather’s house when I couldn’t take them screaming at each other anymore. My grandfather never had much, but he was always happy to take me fishing. Once, he somehow managed to take me to an ice hockey game. How he managed to afford the tickets is still beyond me. He told my father we were going to go fishing. If he knew where we were actually going, he might have dragged me from the stands and beaten me. That game was the only sporting event I ever saw as a child, and it spoke to me. I wanted to be free, like the men skating across the ice, but there was only one way out for me.”
“The university,” Kally supplied.
“Precisely,” Alexandros agreed, brightening visibly. “The university allowed me to get away from my father. Nothing motivated me more than that. I never wanted to step foot in his house again, and I knew the moment I held the diploma in my hand that I would never have to. I still had to study oil, or my father wouldn’t have paid for it, but that was a small price to pay.
