by CJ West
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
The cab dropped me at the curb and soon I was back in my apartment, trying to figure out how Nathan Farnsworth could bribe Marc in a world without paper money. He couldn’t leave a trail at Govbank, so he couldn’t pay him off that way. The drug dealers took electronics, but how many iPods and phones could one man use? Farnsworth could put Marc on the payroll in an unofficial way, but that trail would be too easy to follow. It had to be something valuable and untraceable. I’d spent most of my adult life shifting property around. In a world without cash it was almost impossible. Farnsworth knew more about this world than I did. I knew he’d found a way to make it work. The best way to find out how he was doing it was to follow Marc and see who he talked to and what he did.
On my way to bed, I picked up the next book off the stack, Treasure Island. Mandla said the program wasn’t about the black box and its lessons. I believed him, but by that time, I’d been reading so much that I wanted to get inside the story. My English was improving every day. I could hear it when I talked to people on the street. Gone were the lazy words, stuff and like and dude. Instead of packing them into every third sentence, I used words with meaning and I was proud I did. I know that’s hard for you to understand because you are only hearing me now, but if you had heard me when I first came here, you’d think I was a different person. You probably would have pressed the red button already.
When my eyelids were heavy from reading, I crashed and slept as long as I could. After my donut and coffee, I walked to the bench behind Nathan Farnsworth’s place. I worried that I’d see Stephan at the ballgame that morning or that he’d see me and come storming over. I felt bad about what happened with his camera and the subliminal messages we found, but I was trying to do the right thing that day. I had no idea then how overmatched I was. I hid my face in my book, but like most worries, the confrontation never happened. I read and watched the action on the field and never saw Stephan again.
The eleven men from the courthouse appeared around lunchtime. I couldn’t recognize any one of them from where I was sitting, but they came out onto the field as a group, and as they introduced themselves around they moved in a pack. I recorded the group standing along the foul line. When they settled into playing, I had half of what I needed. These men shouldn’t have all come to Farnsworth’s program. They’d broken the law, but they had been trying to do the right thing. None of them was likely to wind up back here. Wendell needed his share of these guys to clean up his record, but Farnsworth stole them from him. All I needed to do was prove that Farnsworth paid to get them.
Instead of going straight to the courthouse, I went home and took a nap. It was hard falling asleep in the middle of the day, but I couldn’t get close to Marc at work. I was planning to follow him around all night. My hope was that his payoff would come after hours and come soon.
I slept too long and worried that Marc could be gone for the day. The cab dropped me off at the courthouse around four o’clock. To be safe I walked in through the front door and followed the hall past Marc’s door. He didn’t look up from the file he was reading, but I felt like he knew it was me. I kept on going, waited five minutes like I had something to do at that end of the courthouse, and then walked back to the lobby without letting Marc see my face.
I went to the employee parking and took down the color and plate number of every car. I tried to act casual for the cameras on the light poles, but there were twenty cars back there and I couldn’t write down so much information without paying attention to what I was doing. I hoped Marc didn’t have access to the cameras, but why would he?
Settled on a bench at the sidewalk, I watched the employees filter out and scratched the cars off my list as I saw them. It took forty minutes before Marc’s wide face came rolling toward me in a silver Camry. I turned for the street even as he waited to pull out into traffic. I found a cab quickly and a few blocks later we caught up to the Camry at a red light.
Marc stopped at The Last Call, a tiny brick building with neon signs advertising American beers and free nachos on Wednesdays. The days all ran together for me, but I was sure it was Wednesday when he rumbled inside. The cabbie parked half a block back. The fare was nine dollars and change.
“I need you to wait.”
“Sure,” he said.
I was convinced he’d be gone once I closed the door. I added a fifty-dollar tip and his eyes widened. “Listen, if you’re not here when I get back, I’m going to tell your company you ripped me off. If you’re here when I come back, it’ll be clear what the tip was for. Deal?”
The cabbie gave me his word he’d be there and I rushed into the darkened bar after Marc. Pool balls clacked. Eight feet from the entrance I ran into a cluster of people circled around talking. The dress shirts and skirts suggested they’d come straight from a nearby office. I pushed my way through. They let me pass and immediately the men and women pulled their conversations back together. All the tables were filled. Every chair had a coat draped over it, so I worked my way over to the jukebox and stood against the wall where I could see Marc, or rather his back, at the bar.
I remembered the big guy I saw shot near the ball field. His problems started in a dive like this. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was glad there was no detector at the door to identify me, and when anyone sidled up to the jukebox or wanted to push by I was sure to make way. Mostly I hugged the wall and watched Marc through the sea of heads.
He shoveled in nachos for the next two hours and washed them down with three beers. He’d chosen his spot at the corner well. People kept pushing up beside him to order a drink. I couldn’t hear what he was saying or see his facial expressions, but a few women walked away shaking their heads. I couldn’t tell if he was hitting on them and failing miserably, or if it was the splattering of cheese and sauce on his face that turned them off.
I watched carefully, putting the camera on him every time someone stood beside him for more than a minute, but no one passed him anything and no one seemed interested in talking with him. He sat. He ate. He drank and finally he left with me right behind.
The cab was where I left it and the cabbie was pretty good at following the Camry without being noticed. Marc didn’t strike me as someone particularly aware of his surroundings, but we stayed back half a block and followed him for twenty minutes to a neighborhood of high stone walls and wrought iron fences. Marc stopped at an entrance, spoke into a speaker, and a wide gate opened.
The place reminded me of Wendell’s and I remembered how fast the cops swarmed me for jumping the wall. The cab stood out in this neighborhood of Beemers and chauffeurs, so I paid the fare and stepped out onto the naked curb. My book was useless as camouflage in the dark and people here parked behind high walls, so there were no cars to crouch behind. The only cover was the occasional tree and that was where I chose to hide.
The maple at the corner had low branches that made climbing into the canopy easy. Once I reached the height of the wall, I was enveloped by leaves that hid me from passing cars, but I could clearly see the circular drive up by the house. In the next hour, three cars arrived, each carrying a single man. I was positive this was Marc’s payoff. I sat there on a thick branch, wondering what was going on inside. What could be so valuable to Marc that he’d be willing to risk his job?
After an hour of watching and worrying that Marc would leave and I’d have no way to follow, I crept out along the heavy branch until I could step over to the top of the wall. The flat surface had iron spikes on top, but once I stood astride them, I could walk along the wall comfortably, which I did until I drew even with the house.
Marc stumbled out to his car and drove away. I turned and Treasure Island slipped from my coat and fell eight feet to the grass. I suppressed a twinge of panic. I wanted to jump down and retrieve the book, but couldn’t see an easy way out again. If there were dogs or sensors, I’d be hauled to relearner court for the last time. Marc had led me to what I needed. I let him go and followed the wall for a bet
ter look inside the lower windows.
Inside that monstrous house was a form of payment that made perfect sense for Marc. It was untraceable, yet incredibly valuable to someone like him. I wondered if the men I saw through the windows with lingerie-clad young women on their laps all worked in the court system or if there were some politicians thrown in. Once I proved Nathan Farnsworth was paying the bills, I’d have everything I needed. That would be no easy task, but I knew someone who could help me and I had something he desperately wanted.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
My nap the day before messed up my schedule. When I got home and couldn’t sleep, I spent most of the night reading another book I picked from Wendell’s pile. I was angry I’d dropped Treasure Island, not because it could alert someone at the house that they were being watched and not because it could lead them to me, but because I was halfway through and I wanted to know how it ended.
I showered and shaved the next morning even though I could barely open my eyes that early. I skipped my donut shop ritual and jumped in a cab with my stomach gurgling and complaining that I was going the wrong way. The cabbie parked half a block from my destination. I paid him and walked through the neighborhood of tightly-packed houses as if I was out for a morning walk.
The car was locked but had no alarm and I was sitting in the passenger’s seat within seconds. It was Thursday, surely a workday for anyone at the bank. I couldn’t be sure what time he went to work, but both cars were parked at the house, his at the curb, hers in the driveway. I was dreaming when footsteps rounded the trunk. My subconscious screamed to try and wake me up, but my dreaming mind refused to alert me to what was happening outside the car.
The remote clicked and tried to push open the locks even though I’d already unlocked them to get in. The door swung open, the seat rocked, but my eyes didn’t open until I heard the yelling beside me. I rubbed my eyes open and told Nick to relax and drive.
“Screw that. What the hell are you doing in my car?”
“It’s your lucky day. I’ve got something you want. I need a little favor and if you can deliver, I’ll sign the papers and you can forget I ever existed.”
I thought I heard a door open and worried that Kathleen would come out and see us together. “Drive,” I said. “Before your wife starts asking questions you can’t answer.”
Nick didn’t hesitate. He started the car and sped off.
His arms were rigid on the wheel and I could tell he hated being that close to me. I hadn’t done anything to him, but that didn’t matter. I wondered if he was sterile or if Kathleen refused to have more kids. What did any of that matter to me? Nick hated me. I needed something from him and that was the extent of our relationship. I knew I’d miss Jonathan, but I needed someone inside Govbank and Nick was the only person I knew who had a chance of getting it.
A few blocks later we stopped at the edge of a park.
“What do you want?” he grumbled.
I handed him the slip of paper with Nathan Farnsworth’s name, what I knew of Marc, and the address to what I suspected was a brothel.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Nathan Farnsworth is bribing court employees by hooking them up with prostitutes. He’s doing it in this house.” I pointed to the address. “I want you to help me figure out how he’s paying the girls and who is coming and going from this place. I’d also like to know who owns that house.”
“I can’t do that. They don’t just let me wander around in people’s financial records without a reason. I could be fired.”
I didn’t feel guilty about pulling Nick into this. He’d been nothing but an ass from the moment we met. Every time I saw him he wanted to come after me. Sharing Jonathan with him would have been a nightmare and it would have shown eventually in how my son treated me. I finally realized that I couldn’t really be a part of Jonathan’s life, but Nick didn’t know that. All he saw was an opportunity to be rid of me.
“Get me what I need and I’ll sign the papers.”
Nick straightened.
I told him I needed to connect Marc to Nathan Farnsworth. It had to be a transaction within the last two days. I also needed to know who owned that house and who, if anyone, officially worked inside.
He told me I could find the owner by going to city hall. That information was public record.
“Are you not hearing me? I’m willing to sign over my son to you. I expect cooperation. I need Farnsworth wrapped up in a neat little package so I can go to the authorities and hand him over.”
I never meant to prosecute Farnsworth, only to turn the information over to Wendell so the two of them could fight it out. If I went to the cops, they’d have me shipped off to the cat baggers before anyone knew I was gone. At least Wendell was someone important. Even Farnsworth couldn’t make him disappear. That’s why he was trying to run Wendell out of business.
Nick stared at the monument in front of us for a few minutes. His eyes shifted back and forth, not seeing the landscaping outside the car, but some task he’d stealthily do at work, some way of getting me what I needed without getting caught.
“All right,” he said. “Meet me here at nine.”
“Bring the papers.”
“What happened to the last ones?”
“What do you think?” I said and stepped onto the curb.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
It was a long day after I left Nick at seven-thirty A.M. I desperately needed sleep, but when my head hit the pillow all I could think about was Nick getting caught and implicating me. I rolled over again and again until the pillowcase irritated my skin. Then I got up and read about a family shipwrecked and deserted on a tropical island. They built amazing gadgets and created a life for themselves with nothing but what they salvaged from the ship and fashioned from things found on the island. They inspired me and I felt similarly creative in my pursuit of freedom.
Farnsworth kept coming to mind. He’d caught me with Stephan and paid someone to shoot at me outside the donut shop. When he saw me with the big guy at the Wiffle ball game, he had him killed right in front of me. Stephan had to be dead. But why wasn’t anyone following me? Farnsworth had to know I was up to something. Did Wendell threaten him? Not likely. It was spooky waiting for Farnsworth’s next move. I was glad to be inside for the day even if I was going stir crazy.
I pictured Marc’s bulky image and put the book aside. Women at the bar had scoffed at his round torso and thinning hair. His eagerness for the nachos attested to his love of food, but he made enough at his job to feed himself. What he couldn’t get was women. How perfect for Farnsworth to bribe him with something every man wanted, something Marc couldn’t attain for himself. I knew I was right. All I needed was the proof.
I was exhausted, but I couldn’t help thinking about what Nick would find. It might take him days to collect the evidence I needed. The police captured such things in minutes, but they had authority. Nick would be sneaking around when no one was watching and trying to cover himself with some legitimate reason for investigating Farnsworth. Nick was bold dealing with me, but at work he had to obey his boss and play by the rules. His tiny house was proof of his station at the bank.
I replayed everything I’d seen and heard over again. I was positive this would be one of my last days in reeducation. I saw myself handing the typewritten pages to Wendell and seeing him overjoyed at what I delivered. I would save his company and he would release me immediately. I tried to dampen my hope, but I couldn’t. I knew I was at the end and I couldn’t help feeling excited.
I tried to read. I compared lunch menus from local takeout places, anything to keep my mind off Nick and what he was doing. Finally after a whole day of waiting, I got in a cab to meet Nick and find out what happened at Govbank. When I got to the park, Nick’s car was waiting right where we had parked that morning. I kicked myself for not coming sooner. When I finally opened the door and sat down beside him, I thought I saw a tight smile on his lips.
“How
’d you do?” I asked.
“You’re going to be happy.” Nick shoved a few white pages into my hands. They were the custody papers.
“I can’t sign these until I have what I need.”
He had a thick folder on his lap and I knew they were the records on Farnsworth. Neither of us wanted to give the other anything and come away empty.
“I’m not here to screw you, Nick. If you’ve got what I need, I’ll sign these. Jonathan is yours. Just let me see what you’ve got.”
Nick started the engine. “You take off and I’ll run your ass over. I risked my butt for this. I’m not giving it to you for nothing.”
I promised him I was good to my word. We could have gone back and forth, but he decided he could trust me and pulled out a single printed page.
“The house. It’s Farnsworth’s. Belongs to his company.”
I checked the address. The report had Town of Brookline printed across the top. Nick could have made it up, but I had come to him, not the other way around. Farnsworth Reeducation was listed as the owner.
Nick pulled out another four pages.
“These women are listed as employees of Farnsworth Reeducation. They earn double what most other employees make and there’s something else interesting. When I researched their purchases, they were all made around that house. They go to lunch out there. Have their nails done. Those women live there. According to their financials, they don’t go far. All his other employees spend time near his facilities. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner all have lots of hits.”
