Trade Secrets

by Beth Ryan

“Come on,” I said, grabbing his wrist before he could protest.

  When I yanked him through the door, he stumbled, and I almost fell as well. My tight grip against the doorframe was painful as slivers of wood dug into my palm. It kept me upright, though.

  I glanced outside the door long enough to ensure that no one had seen him enter. Then I slammed it shut behind me. The house rattled once more. The well-off young man looked ready to argue, but I didn’t much care. Any longer on the stoop and he would’ve started drawing attention.

  In my line of business, attention was the last thing I needed.

  “The name’s Nate Donovan.” I leaned back against the door as I spoke, blocking the only exit he knew of. It helped to steady my sense of balance. I felt my confidence bolster as the world righted itself for a time. I wore that confidence like a cherished blanket, a Cheshire grin overtaking me as I spoke. “What can I do ya for?”

  As a consummate professional, I wasn’t prone to hitting on the people who came to me for help. In fact, getting attached to a client was the biggest mistake a man like me could make. There were others like me who did well enough at the job. I was the one who stayed at the top of my field, though, the one who’d never drawn any suspicions...because of one thing.

  I had rules.

  I had strict rules, learned from years of watching so many others caught for stupid mistakes. If I wanted to stay a free man, which I did, I had to adhere to those rules no matter what. The secrets of my trade left no room for deliberation. When it came to the line drawn between myself and my clients, fraternization was not an option.

  Even so, it took all of my restraint not to wink at him when I spoke. There was something about the clean-cut man that drew me in. It was his displaced appearance, the odd contradiction of quiet confidence and clear inexperience. His arrival at my doorstep had sparked my curiosity. The whirling of the CAPS side effects was nothing compared to the whirl of questions that filled me.

  I wanted to know his story more than I’d ever wanted to know anything in my life. I was barely coherent through the wave of euphoria that rose within me, but I could still recognize what a danger that made him.

  He wasn’t the first client I’d become curious about. When the dregs of the earth crawled their way to me, it was inevitable that some stories would stand out. People who had interesting lives, or interesting motivations.

  I’d once met a girl who could recite textbooks of information she hadn’t read in years. I’d come across an older man who could regulate his physical responses in order to fool the trading chip altogether. I’d even helped a homeless boy vanish without a trace after he’d witnessed the crime of some rich bureaucrat.

  However, I’d forced each of them to keep their secrets to themselves. I knew the moment I unraveled their stories, I wouldn’t be able to leave them alone. Like the frayed threads on my jeans, I would pick at them until there was nothing left to discover. The ability to pick up the little details and understand their weight was what caused most people to get caught early in their careers. It was also that ability that drew me to the job in the first place. So I’d given myself rules that kept me from getting caught.

  I couldn’t say the keywords that would draw attention to what I did. I couldn’t even think them. I focused on the abstract, instead. I spoke in terms of outcome rather than process. It kept me from thinking too hard about what words others might use to describe my job.

  I couldn’t dig into the personal lives of those who came to me, either. That was the hardest part of the job. When someone needed my help, it was doubtless that their troubles stemmed from their personal history. There was a fine line between knowing what a client needed, and knowing the client themselves.

  I couldn’t think too long on any information I did pick up. I had to force myself to ignore the odd bits of information that others couldn’t help leaving behind. They were clues that might reveal more than was good for either of us. The temptation to use that information would only lead to trouble.

  Above all, I could never get involved with a client. I’d seen it happen to others in my profession. Men and women who thought they knew how to avoid detection. It made their work sloppy, caused cracks in their armor that the fraud departments could find. Every person who got involved ended up on the wrong side of the job in the end. Of all the rules I had, this was the one I could never allow myself to break.

  “Take your time,” I said, eying the enigma before me. “Really, I’ve got all day.”

  The stranger opened his mouth. Didn’t speak. He pulled a hand out of his pocket to rub the back of his neck. Then he glanced around the shadowed lobby of building six-oh-nine. The frosted bulb that hung above us did little to illuminate the foyer or his reasons for darkening my doorstep.

  This was not a strange way for him to act. More often than not, the people who came to me were on the run from something. The skeletons in their closets always created ghosts that chased them into my care. Gambling. Affairs. Murder. Everyone had a reason to run.

  It was all the same result in the end. Some poor soul hunched over in my entrance hall, their eyes darting around like their troubles might pop up behind them and shout “BOO!”, if they stopped long enough to explain what they needed from me at all.

  As it was, I was less prepared than usual for a new client. I allowed him to continue his nervous activities for some time while I fought to keep my expression neutral. Inside, I was ready to retch. I cursed the timing of our meeting, the nature of the pills, and the cruel universe that had thrown me into this situation in the first place.

  My heart raced as I gripped the door handle behind me. It was the only thing keeping me upright. The brown-eyed man didn’t seem to notice my troubles, though. He was far more concerned with whatever had brought him here. So I waited with patience, knowing that he’d get around to explaining sooner or later as long as I let him work his way up to it.

  There was a way to these things, I knew. A casual presence always calmed a frightened client. My reputation wouldn’t be half what it was if I hadn’t caught on to the trick of it long ago. If I couldn’t keep a client calm enough to get the information I needed, then I couldn’t do my job. It was all about information these days, after all.

  “I need,” he started, drawing my attention to him. His left hand was raised as though he were about to gesture, but he aborted the move and trailed off, considering his words. The sign of a wise man if ever there was one. Loose lips sink chips, as they say.

  I did my best to paint a patient expression on my face as I watched him struggle with his request. Even through the lightheaded swooping that was overpowering me, my fingers itched for another cigarette. But experience had taught me long ago that smoking and vertigo weren’t a good combination. I’d have to wait until my stomach settled before satisfying that particular craving.

  The stranger placed his hand on the back of his neck again and I felt a smirk creep across my lips. I was unable to stop myself. Dragging the truth from him would be like ripping out the hairs on my arms one by one. Both excruciating and interminable.

  In this way, the whiskey-eyed young man was no different than anyone else who’d ever turned to me for help.

  “I would like your assistance.” He finally settled on the words, but he didn’t look like he was happy with them.

  He scowled at nothing in particular and refused to meet my eye. Then, like a switch had been flipped, he changed. His words were confident after that, and my curiosity overpowered my nausea.

  It was interesting to watch. The transformation from acting like a dirty street rat in trouble to a sophisticated socialite on the run was subtle. It was in the way he took a deep breath and almost choked on the dirty air. It was in the way he pulled his shoulders back and reached his full height. Most of all, it was in the way he gripped his hands behind his back and spoke with clear enunciation when he made his demands.

  “I require your assistance, and your discretion,” he said at last.

&nb
sp; I bit down another wide grin. He’d unconsciously revealed more of himself than he’d meant to. Now I knew what kind of man he was, how he’d been raised. I knew the truth he didn’t want me to know. He’d grown up in a sanctuary, maybe even the one Audry and I had visited not so long ago. As I’d first thought, the man before me wasn’t like any of my usual clientele.

  The thought of helping him resolve whatever had brought him to me caused a thrill to race up my spine. This, I decided, had been worth getting out of bed for.

  4

  I pulled an old pair of glasses from my pocket and slid them up my nose. I squinted like I was trying to get a better look at the guy. My eyesight wasn’t lacking. I could see him just fine. I just needed some extra time to handle the way the world was tilting again.

  As I waited for a moment of stability, I watched his actions. His hands were fidgeting, as though he was fighting to keep them held behind his back. His gaze flicked to the door behind me. He rolled back a bit on the heels of his shiny shoes and glanced around the low-lit hall once more.

  I fought the urge to raise an eyebrow at his actions.

  Somehow, this well-off, sweet-faced young man had gotten himself into quite a bit of trouble. The kind of trouble I wasn’t sure I wanted to be involved in. God knew I had more clients than I needed and knew more secrets than any man of my profession ought to know. If he ran now, it wouldn’t do any damage to my wallet or my career.

  Even better, I’d be able to return to bed and sleep off the terrible day I’d had.

  I certainly didn’t owe the kid anything. He’d shown up unannounced and demanded the use of my services. He’d revealed himself as someone who had trouble keeping a secret. He’d also stuck his nose up at the interior of my building. If I wanted to, I could send him back out into the cold without a second thought.

  It was the smart choice. It was what I’d do if I had any real sense about me. His attitude and clothing told me he’d come from a sanctuary. But there was more to it. I suspected he didn’t just live in a sanctuary. He looked like he came from a very wealthy, sanctuary-owning family. He was probably meant to inherit his father’s wealth and take over the fertile land.

  I couldn’t imagine what might have brought him outside his protective forcefield and into my scummy city. His kind never came here if they could help it. They had emissaries for situations that required personal attention outside the filtered air. They also had lawyers for any kind of problem I might be able to fix.

  I expected he wouldn’t kick up a fuss if I did turn him away. I got the sense that he’d disappear at the first sign of trouble. I wasn’t about to cause any for him, though. I was a sucker for the ones who were in over their heads. The challenging clients. I could tell this one would be a real challenge, and above all, I could never turn away a pretty face. Especially not one that looked so damn desperate.

  At the realization of my own excitement over doing the job, I knew I had to take a step back. Already I’d learned more about the man in front of me than he’d likely told anyone in his life. He was too easy to read, and too interesting not to.

  He was a temptation I wasn’t certain I had the power to deny.

  So I stood there in the front hall and let the silence come between us. I watched him closely as he waited for my response. I spent the time calculating the risk, weighing my own motivations against my ability to stay impartial. I knew that there was every chance I could slip up and fall for the same mistakes my predecessors had, no matter the job.

  If Audry were around, she would have turned the man away at the first sight of him. We came from two different worlds, after all, and a sanct-born wasn’t the type to stay loyal after they’d gotten what they wanted. It was that fact alone that made my decision for me. As curious as I was about the whiskey-eyed man, I knew there was no chance I’d let myself get drawn in too far. I’d likely never see him again once our business was complete.

  “Okay.” I pressed my lips together in a thin line.

  Decision made, I leaned forward. Though I didn’t push all the way off the door. I wasn’t sure I could keep myself steady if I tried to pace as I spoke, and I didn’t want to spook him. He already looked like he was about to bolt. I offered him a reassuring smile he didn’t return.

  That was fine. We’d get there soon enough.

  “Look, I’m not here to judge,” I said. “I assume you heard about me because you need more than some spare pocket change. Am I right?”

  He nodded. I nodded. Nice and easy. No need to pressure him or make him feel uncomfortable. That was the way of things. That was what erased the skittish look from the back of a client’s eye. That was what soothed the distrustful frown that kept them from giving me the answers I needed. The information I needed. I couldn’t help an unwilling client. There was no way around that.

  My stomach attempted a revolt, and I bit down on my tongue to keep myself from retching. I couldn’t show weakness here. I had to stay calm and steady, if my client was to trust me.

  “Alright.” I ran a hand through my hair. Wayward brown curls flopped down in front of my eyes. Casual. Unassuming. That was me, through and through. “I’ll say a number, and you tell me higher or lower. Sound good?”

  He nodded again, and I took a moment to estimate just how much trouble the kid might be in. I say kid, but really, he couldn’t have been more than a year younger than me. However, he possessed an innocence born of ignorance.

  The description fit him well. The way he couldn’t mask his emotions from me was endearing. His poor disguise indicated his lack of experience in espionage and poverty. He was filled with the sort of arrogance only worn by those who could buy their way out of most problems. It seemed to me that he was just some naive legacy kid caught up in something he shouldn’t have been.

  Probably, he was too embarrassed to go to his own kind for help.

  “Eight hundred,” I estimated.

  I always took the low guess first, even when I knew the client needed more than that. It wasn’t about getting it right the first time. It was about their reaction to the low number.

  This part of the job was a delicate balance, and I’d gotten good at it in the past ten years. I needed enough information to determine how I could help, without digging so far that I ended up privy to all the guy’s secrets. That was the bit that others in my trade never seemed to comprehend.

  They called themselves Private Investigators or Secret Brokers. All of them were so focused on proving their cleverness that they rarely fixed their client’s problems. Discreet wasn’t even in their vocabulary.

  “Higher.” I could tell he was attempting to keep hold of his cool tone and unaffected demeanor. However, his voice squeaked out just above a whisper, hoarse and heavy with nerves and he’d dropped the high bred stance in favor of tapping his fingers together in front of him like some nervous tick.

  I hadn’t needed him to say the word. I already knew. Still, it was good to get him talking. Even better to realize just how well his voice matched his appearance. Refined, wrapped with just a touch of distress.

  “Gotcha.” I nodded, still trying to put him at ease. “Ten thousand.”

  I doubted that I was anywhere near what he needed. He looked like the kind of person who spent that much in a week. With the musty smell of rot and drywall in the air, it was clear that I’d never had that much money to just throw around.

  Sure, I’d taken on clients with higher profiles and credit needs. But that money never lasted long. There was always some bill or tax that consumed the credits before they’d had time to cool in my account. The only secret I’d ever coveted was how the wealthy maintained both their expensive lives and high account balances. I suspected it was just something one had to be born into.

  “Higher.”

  He was doing that anxiout tapping again and he wouldn’t look me in the eye. I was losing him, I could tell. His kind were proud, and coming here was an embarrassment. It didn’t matter if I was the best in the city or the best
in the world. There was a shame in seeking help from me. Another few minutes, and he’d vanish without a trace.

  The mixture of vertigo and euphoria started up again.

  To buy myself more time for things to settle, I adjusted my glasses. The subtle press of a button on the side of my frames brought a secondary display into view. A picture of a slightly younger version of my new client overlapped the live one. Beside the picture there was a bulleted list.

  Everything on the list was redacted. The only thing that wasn’t blacked out was the striking numbers above his picture that indicated the man’s current wealth. Even with the expectation that he was a sanctuary heir, I was unprepared for the number I saw there. I fought down an impressed whistle.

  Half a million credits were hidden away in his account.

  The glasses were a cliché trick. They were done so many times in so many old spy movies that no one ever considered them a real option. They were one of a kind, custom-made, and illegal as all hell. Accessing the information on another’s trading chip was something only the Profile Department was authorized to do. If I were caught, I would be put to death. It didn’t matter that I had redacted all the information I was accessing. With another flick of the button on the side, I could reveal every secret my client had ever spoken. In turn, I could use the information to ruin him, if I were so inclined.

  There was only one person talented enough to build something so sophisticated and make it appear so simple. I would go down in flames before ever revealing their maker, though. The glasses were my greatest advantage. They kept me at the top of my profession, right where I belonged. To the rest of the world, and to my new client, I was a man with poor eyesight and an intuition for what other people needed.

  Neither I, nor Audry, would ever tell anyone otherwise.

  “I see.”

  I stepped forward, pushing myself off the door and crossing my arms. I towered over the man across from me, even when he was standing at full height. He appeared uncomfortable with that fact, so I allowed myself to slouch a little to even the odds. There was no need to have him make a break for it now. We were just getting to the best part.