by Watkins, TM
I looked up at him, the impatience was growing.
“You've been drinking.”
“I had two fingers of whiskey Miss Ryan, please just get in the car and don't scratch the upholstery.”
“Maybe I should walk.” I murmured feeling incredibly uncomfortable. “I wouldn't want to wreck your expensive car.”
He sighed as he closed his eyes, reopening them his face seemed a whole lot more dangerous.
“Miss Ryan, I really don't have time for this. I do not wish to leave you standing on the street, nor waiting for any form of public transportation. You read the paper this morning, did you not read that there is a madman on the loose?”
“It's two gay men that have gone missing, I hardly match the criteria.”
“Yes and that's what the cops want the public to think. Get in the car now.”
I backed away slightly, feeling pressured and the old alarm bell was ringing rather loudly in my mind.
“You do not need to fear me; I only want to ensure that you get home safe. Please?” He gestured to the seat.
I sighed and sat on the leather seat, swinging my legs into it. It would have to be the most difficult car to get into. I dreaded trying to get out of it. Mystery man shut the door and rounded the vehicle, when he was out of sight I rummaged through my bag and found my capsicum spray and shoved it into the cup of my bra.
The door swung open and mystery man climbed in, his movements were graceful. He has obviously owned it long enough to have the movement worked out so that he could do it with little issue. I clicked the seatbelt into place, as did mystery man. With a thunderous roar, the engine came to life. A slight smirk curled into his face as he looked out the windshield.
We had been driving for about five minutes before I realized that he was actually going the right way.
“Do you know where to go?”
“Yes.”
Well aren't you just the stalker extraordinaire? Then it hit me, resume, home address. Yes, of course he knew where I lived. He probably knew a whole lot more about Kasey Ryan. The car was a smooth ride, gliding around corners with ease. I didn't dare take a peek at the speedometer, fearing to see what speed we were actually doing. If he was in a hurry or if he just like to go fast, I wasn't sure but it was a little freaky. With a few more turns we were in my street, a long row of terraced houses. I lived in one of the larger houses that had been converted into several small units. I shared a two-bedroom ground floor unit with my friend from high school, this was a temporary placement for this assignment.
My real place was on the other side of town and wasn't as nice as this place. Amber Michaels and I had been friends since the first day, she was and always has been the odd one out. Much like me and my family really. She would be the one that would wear sunglasses at night just because they looked cool in her opinion. A knitted beanie in summer if she had terrible hair, which didn't seem possible. She had the most stunning strawberry blonde hair that I had ever seen. Amber was happy in a pair of tattered and faded jeans, a band shirt and a pair of red cons. Her willowy frame allowed for her to look good in anything but she liked to reject the norm and did as she pleased. And that was why she was walking up the street at nine o'clock, wearing her sunglasses, her jeans and a Nirvana shirt, dragging a full garbage bag behind her.
Oh Amber, of all the nights for you to go dumpster diving my mind sighed.
“Green door.” I murmured to mystery man.
He wordlessly nodded and slowed the car near my house, though I could see he was watching the woman who was approaching us. As she turned to walk up the stairs of my house, mystery man narrowed his eyes at her figure.
“Has she been charity bin fishing?” He asked rather mortified.
I was astounded but quietly relieved.
“Please don't tell the authorities, the rent is expensive and she's been covering my share of the rent while I've been unemployed.”
He opened his mouth about to say something and then clamped it shut firmly, frowning at her as she dragged the heavy bag up the stairs.
“Miss Ryan, I cannot say that I approve of illegal activities but understand that you have been down on your luck. Now that you are employed I would expect that this nonsense will cease. After all, Aphrodite International does not approve of stealing from charities.”
“Of course.” I whispered, pretending to be chastised.
Internally I was jumping for joy, he had bought it. He climbed out of the car, still with his graceful movements. As he opened the door for me, Amber looked at me with a sly grin. She pretended to fumble with her keys, the heavy bag resting against her legs. I prayed that the bag didn't break, I did not want the contents to come falling out for mystery man to see. He watched her for a moment and then turned back to me. His gaze was dark as he waited for me to wrangle my way out of the stupid, overpriced, hard to get in and out of monstrosity.
“Nine am tomorrow morning, wait at the security desk for Mrs Cooper.” He closed the door, still coldly gazing at me.
“And may I suggest something a little longer and not so sparkly.”
I giggled slightly, it wasn't planned and was completely unlike me. His gaze faltered and a slight smirk curled into the corner of his mouth. I composed myself, ignoring the inner thoughts of chastisement.
“Of course and thank you for the lift home.”
“My pleasure.”
Amber watched the car pull away as I slowly ambled up the stairs, she was grinning like a loon. We were safely ensconced in our little apartment; I could feel an almighty weight lift from my shoulders.
“As always your timing is impeccable.”
Amber poked her tongue at me as she let the curtain go, the sound of the mystery man's car filled the quiet night air.
“So a hottie gives you a lift home and no good night kiss? What's wrong with you, girl? His ride is pretty sweet.”
“Yeah. So what did you get?”
She turned and tilted her hips and backside out at me, showing the rip in her jeans.
“So I guess I owe you a pair huh?”
“Too right.” She scoffed.
I sat on the lounge and opened up the garbage bag as Amber removed her cons and the ripped jeans casting them both to the floor beside the chair she had dragged closer. Amber was rather carefree with her body, I was female and she didn't care what state of undress I happened to see her in. Shirt and underpants wasn't exactly showing off her body but it was pretty close.
“I suppose I could stitch them up and save you some money.” she smiled at me.
“Uh-huh.”
Amber picked up the magna doodle and started to write on it. This was her thing, she believed that whatever assignment I was on, no matter how small or insignificant, all security precautions were to be undertaken. And that was this, the only way that we could communicate safely in an unsecured location, in her opinion.
It was more difficult this time; they've got nasty dogs. No, I don't need a rabies shot.
I nodded and pulled the first of the papers out, casually flicking through them as I loaded them into the fabric shopping cart. Tomorrow Amber would set off for her usual post dumpster diving routine of taking a long slow walk to down town. There she would go into the toilets of the pre-determined location and unload the documents onto one of my father's many secretaries. It was the same every time, except the location and secretary would change. This had been Amber's third dumpster dive at Aphrodite International. I wasn't exactly sure on what she had found, all of the information went to my father and I didn't bother with any of it. Amber was the reason that Walter was put into the local coffee house, she said the amount of takeaway cups in the bin was ridiculous. Amber sniffed her shirt and sneered.
“Ugh, I'm going for a shower.”
She stood from her chair, taking her shoes and pants.
“And when I get back, I want to hear about mister fancy car.”
“Sure.”
I picked up the magna doodle.
&nb
sp; He's my new boss, how much can I tell you?
She rolled her eyes at me with a smug grin.
“Later.”
I couldn't imagine there being much to find in the dumpsters, I figured anything confidential would go in a security bin. But my father was insistent on the cases where dumpster dives were ideal they had to be done. Music blared from Amber's room, she liked to have music going constantly, she hated the house being quiet.
Much to our neighbor’s disgust, Amber liked it loud. I heard her giggles as she passed from her bedroom and into the bathroom, she was doing her hidden message thing again. She was trying to get me to admit that mystery man was insanely good looking and that there was more than one reason that he drove me home tonight. I ignored her and continued to pile the smelly documents into the bag, this wasn't as gross as actually getting into the bins but it was a close second.
There had been a time when this was all that my father allowed me to do. He called it a rite of passage, earning my wings and working my way up in the company. Walter had to as well and I figured that the twins had done their time smelling a little off but I had serious doubts as to whether Tilley had done it. She would have flat out refused, far too precious to get into a dumpster.
I pulled out a massive wad of papers, it was bound together with a thick rubber band. Casually I flicked through it, not really paying attention until I caught sight of a peculiarity. A pale pink piece of paper was folded, stuck in the first third of the great stack. I pulled it out, it was an interoffice memo, one that was labelled do not print. Clearly someone likes to live dangerously and in doing so had revealed something highly confidential.
Chapter 8: Texting in the dark
The sickly sweet smell of Amber's shampoo pervaded the air, strawberries and cream mixed with her shower gel which was vanilla. It was a little overbearing but I said nothing, knowing that she would have overdone the cleaning process because of the dumpster dive. She looked over the document with a little shock, amusement was slowly registering on her face. Amber opened her mouth and then stopped, casting the piece of paper aside for the magna doodle.
What does this mean?
I took it off her and wiped it clean, writing the response. This was incredibly difficult and a real pain in the ass but Amber was insistent. More so now that we had been subjected to a break in. It was the last assignment; we were in a house not far from here. Dad was always insistent that I had someone else living at the house and in that instance, I was grateful. We had come home with the perp still in the house, he was searching for what evidence we had gathered. Luckily there was nothing to be found because as always, I did not store information on paper or on any form of electronic device. My phone doesn't have any contacts, all of the numbers were committed to memory. We called the cops but by the time they got there the guy was gone and our place was turned over, completely trashed. So now Amber had us on the highest of security alert, several locks on the doors and windows, our own personal alarms, capsicum sprays. She was yet to actually get a gun but I figured that wasn't far away.
The pink piece of paper sat between us, it was big but as to how big I wasn't sure.
It means daddy with be happy with you.
Amber rolled her eyes at me, she didn't care what my father thought. He paid her cash in hand and as far as she was concerned he was always one snide remark away from her telling him to stick things where they fitted. But Amber had a knack for the good stuff, she somehow managed to make his day with one sifting of an industrial bin.
The memo was to someone by the name of Simon Dalton and was from a Dorian Gallagher and was dated a week ago. It stated that Project X was not proceeding until further research had been completed, which was also being halted. It stated that someone called Eva was stepping down from her duties and that he was taking over her role until further notice. It went on to say that all test subjects were to be destroyed and the notes were to be delivered to the thirty-fifth floor for housing in the vault.
So much for not testing on animals. Amber wrote with disdain.
I nodded, clearly their stance on it was a lie. Eva, the owner was called Eva. I took the magna doodle from her again.
Eva Gallagher is the owner of the company; this must be her husband.
I tucked the note back into the stack of papers, tapping at it as Amber looked at me. She nodded, understanding that I wanted her to point it out to the secretary tomorrow. No doubt my father will want me to concentrate my searches on the vault which I know will be incredibly difficult.
Once the garbage bag had been emptied into the shopping cart, Amber started to make a late night snack. I sat back on the lounge, staring across the room. It was a small lounge with the kitchen attached to it, there was no dining room just a breakfast bar. The place was severely under decorated but considering that we weren't going to be here long, it didn't matter.
A few fake personal items were placed around the place to make it seem like this was ours. If someone stopped by whether it was invited or uninvited, it would give the appearance that it was our home. The walls were a stark white, an easy color for tenants to color co-ordinate their furnishings to, but it was rather bland. Amber had listed herself as a student to get this place, it was marketed for the college crowd and was supposedly cheap rent.
Somehow I would have to get to the thirty-fifth floor and into a secured vault without detection. It was unlikely to happen and I knew that the ideal path ahead would be getting a plan of the place and infiltrate the place after hours. The building had the architect plans done several times, there was no definite idea on the actual interior of the place. We knew where the fire escape and elevators were, the plumbing and other services but the walls and doors? No. Nothing. The latest plan that my father had managed to get was a plan from two years ago that had revised scrawled all over it. It had infuriated my father immensely, his go-to guy had clammed up when pressed for more plans. All the guy said was this was the latest they had and they were yet to receive the newest revision. So I would be the plan maker, hopefully I will get to do the mail delivery rather than being stuck in some room for the entire day. That really would put a kink in the plan.
“I'm going to bed.” I sighed. “Apparently I have to be there at nine am.”
“Sweet dreams.” She cooed cheekily.
I waived her off and dumped my bag onto my bed, readying to shower and be done with the day. Emptying my bag, I retrieved my work phone and slipped it between the mattress and the base. My other phone was placed on the bedside, the one that I was using for this assignment. I had it turned down for the job interview, never remembering to turn it up. It should not have mattered too much; I wasn't expecting to be called so early on in the process. Of course mystery man stalking me all day made me think that I should have turned the phone up but it was too late for that. The light was flashing, indicating that I had received a text. Cautiously I opened it, an unknown number.
I look forward to embarking on an industrious future with you Miss Ryan. Don’t be late.
Could he be any more formal? But in the one little text I had a new aspect on my view of this assignment. I had the phone number of one of the management, someone who might just get me higher in the building or dare I think it, access to the thirty-fifth floor?
I wouldn't dream of it. You never told me your name.
I grinned at my audacity, wondering if he would ever tell me. As I waited for a response I marked the number as mystery man and waited. Nothing came and I decided on having the shower as I continued to wait.
As I passed from the bathroom and back into my room, I shook my head with a wry smile. Amber was watching television, sitting on the floor far too close to it and was eating breakfast cereal.
Refreshed from the cool shower, I picked up my phone, grinning at the flashing light. Oh you little devil, how easily addictive you could become. I opened the message, chuckling just a little.
Why would you want to know that?
I couldn't help it
, I had to text back. This was ridiculous, I would be up all night texting the weirdo.
Because I make it a rule not to get into stranger’s cars. You said you are my boss, yet the website says that Eva Gallagher is my boss. So who are you, mystery man?
I wondered if it would make him grin like I was. What was wrong with me? Was I becoming Tilley and allowing myself to become infatuated with a target?
Oh Miss Ryan, you are forward. I am Dorian Gallagher. Eva has stepped down and as such I am your boss.
Oh snap, he's the husband. Certainly explained the expensive sports car. I sighed, inwardly noting that all flirting would stop. After my mother walked out on my father, I had a thing about cheating. I didn't always get on with my father but I felt sorry for him. He loved my mother and she was so selfish and horrid to him. This playful text banter had to be stopped, even if it was still reasonably clean.
Oh okay. Thanks again for the ride home. I won't tell your wife.
Almost instantly a reply came, one that left me a little shocked.
That's great, except that I don't have a wife. Eva is my sister.
I had frowned at the text for a moment, wondering if pursuing him in that way would help get me onto the floor. Before I could even respond to it, another text came through.
Go to bed Miss Ryan, I do not wish to see my newest employee asleep on the job.
As crazy as it was, I was grinning. Now I could understand Tilley and her constant fascination with her targets, of how easily she could be sucked in. A bit of playful banter and I was already grinning like an idiot. Reign it in KC my mind hissed at me.
And I do not wish to fall asleep on my first day or any other day. Just one last question before I do as you ask. Does my job entail walking the corridors of your vast building doing the deliveries or will I be in a room sorting the mail?
I do believe that the position covers both sorting and delivery.
