Dream Job (The Dreamwalker Chronicles Book 1)

by Pettit, Gregory

  CHAPTER 17 1100–1200, Sunday, August 2, 2015

  ***Ena***

  “Yes, do whatever’s necessary and spare no expense. I want you to drop the rest of your work and focus on Mr. Adler. He’s to be your number one priority. OMG will cover the cost of any clients you have to reimburse, but we need Mr. Adler under surveillance immediately, if not sooner, and we need a file on him containing the information we already discussed by noon tomorrow. Just to confirm, put the other three team members under standard levels of surveillance, with basic background checks delivered to the office by tomorrow noon as well. I believe that should cover it, and I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow, hot stuff,” Ena said, putting the phone down. She was pleased with how efficiently she’d taken care of her part of the plan, getting a private investigation firm instructed and engaged within just a few hours of receiving the necessary data from Kelly.

  Ena had contacted the Redderton Agency, with whom the firm had a standing relationship, and with whom she sometimes had a horizontal relationship – at least with one particular detective. They’d used Redderton regularly in the past to perform discreet background checks and investigation of personal references on interviewees at the partnership. All three of the women had been glad more than once for investing in the extra expenses that came with that level of diligence when the PIs had turned up serious irregularities with several candidates.

  Ena recalled an episode from about three years back; there’d been a CFO candidate for the firm who had several impressive degrees and had held positions of responsibility in multiple FTSE-listed companies. However, the detectives at the agency had been suspicious of a recent career plateau, and they had managed to turn up information indicating that he’d been quietly let go from his last two companies under a cloud of ugly rumors. Eventually, they’d discovered that the man had a serious gambling problem and that he had almost certainly skimmed money to fund his addiction. The man had seen the three young women as an easy target, and when they’d politely rejected his application, he’d been enraged.

  She’d been happy to contract Redderton’s discreet physical protection unit for all of the partners after receiving angry calls from the disgruntled candidate, and they'd “taken care of” the problem. Ena considered how much all of the women trusted the firm and knew that she’d made the right choice in sticking with them, even for this slightly unusual work. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she had a not-quite-professional relationship with her main contact at the firm.

  Ena crossed “call agency” off of her to-do list, frowning at the next item down, which read “yoga.” I’d rather have a yogurt, she thought to herself as she headed to the bedroom to grab her gym bag. She frowned again as she snatched a candy bar wrapper off of her night stand, throwing it in the rubbish bin as she vowed to do an extra mile on the treadmill after her aerobics class.

  The buxom redhead threw on her headphones, turned on The Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction,” and headed out the door. It was only a fifteen-minute walk from her compact one-bedroom flat overlooking the river in Canary Wharf to the gym just outside of Middle Dock, but she wanted to distract herself. Unfortunately even with a young Mick Jagger’s hungry voice wailing into her ear, she couldn’t avoid considering the unpleasantness of the previous night.

  Ena had been desperate to land the deal with the conglomerate financing the Vauxhall development, and she still felt like she’d only done what she needed to do to ensure the success of the firm when she had stretched her authority to make the necessary guarantees to win the business. She wished that the other two women really understood what it was like to get these deals done nowadays. Kelly spent all of her time with her computers, and Tara seemed to think that once she’d written something down that it was immutably going to stay “just so” forever. “I’m the only one still living in the real world,” Ena muttered bitterly as she dodged a black cab and crossed the road.

  Ena had been sure that there wouldn’t be any issue making the concessions. She’d done it half a dozen times before, and every other time, they’d managed to land the deal without coming anywhere near triggering their contractual time limits. Until finding out about Julian’s snooping, she’d been sure that they’d able to close this ahead of the deadline. At that point, though, she knew that it was necessary to break the news, if nothing else to make sure that the other women treated the situation with the warranted seriousness. Ena shrugged once and grinned, deciding that it wasn’t entirely fair to expect them to support plans they didn’t even know about.

  Ena considered that neither of the other women had picked up their phones again after she’d broken the news to them, but she was sure that they’d both be in the office bright and early the next morning to prep for the client meeting in the afternoon. Throughout their friendship, and even now when there were definite cracks between them, one bedrock of their relationship and success was that once they had made a plan, whether for a night out, a study date, or to launch a business, they carried through with it. Ena knew that the reason she valued that level of tenacity was because of the way she’d seen her mother disintegrate in front of her eyes, and she’d guessed that Tara’s childhood growing up on a farm had had something to do with her values, but she wondered for probably the hundredth time what really drove Kelly, the privileged only daughter of Dublin bankers. Shrugging her shoulders, Ena opened the gym door and tried to put her worries out of mind for the next couple of hours.

  ***Tara***

  Tara opened the .zip file that had been delivered to her laptop via Kelly’s secure FTP program and smiled. Given that Mr. Adler was currently under suspicion, the lawyer knew that if Julian gave them any real trouble, she’d be able to call in a few favors and, within a couple of hours, have him removed from the situation, at least long enough to get any deal done. Her fists were still sore from her workout of the night before, but she felt ready to go for tomorrow’s meeting and satisfied that she’d completed her part of the plan quite nicely.

  ***Kelly***

  Kelly was still in bed. With Mark.

  ???

  Somewhere dark, where night ruled and mind was matter, an intelligence that was old when Babylon was young, a creature sure in its strength and wisdom, smiled with many mouths in anticipation of the coming feast that its master had prepared for it.

  CHAPTER 18 1100 –1930, Sunday, August 2, 2015

  ***Julian***

  I’m Superman.

  At least that’s how I felt as I carried my daughter on my back across the road and into our house. Olivia giggled and shouted, “Faster, Daddy, faster!” so I took off down the road at a jog. The other exiting parishioners glanced my way and grinned as they filed out of the church; there’s nothing like a giggling little girl to bring a smile to people’s faces. Or at least to mine.

  Unfortunately, nothing good lasts forever, and in this case, the fun only lasted a few minutes before we arrived home. I set Olivia onto the floor, gulping down the sticky air and with sweat running down my brow as I fished the house keys out of my pocket. As soon as the door was open, Olivia shot through and pounded over to the couch to grab a tablet and begin watching cartoons. I had urgent work to do as well, and when Dana caught up to us a few minutes later, my good mood was long gone, and I was getting ready to dial the first number on my list of OMG’s former customers.

  “He-Hello?” the voice on the other end of the phone asked tentatively, answering after a handful of rings.

  “Mr. Donald Rutland, this is Julian Adler. I got your name off of a website the other day and was hoping that you might be able to help me?” I put on my most professional, friendly voice, hoping that my flat Midwestern American accent would reassure the man that I wasn’t a telemarketer.

  Nearly twenty seconds passed, and I was just about to ask if the man was still on the line when he finally replied, “Was it their website?” Donald Rutland’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper, though whether it was filled with trepidation or awe I couldn’t tel
l.

  After waiting another twenty seconds and receiving no further elaboration, I ventured an answer. I was just about to confirm that it was OMG’s website when some instinct warned me against using the firm’s name. “It was the website for a real estate agency based in Old Street. According to a testimonial on the site, you were involved with them a couple of years ago and thought that they did a good job?” I’d kept my voice level, but my heart was pounding. It was clear that the man on the other end of the phone wasn’t reacting normally to my innocuous questions, and his further confirmation of my already strong suspicions made my head spin. Or maybe that was the concussion from a few days back; I’m not a doctor.

  “I…I’m not sure I should be talking about this on the phone. Can…can you meet me? I think I could explain it in person. Over dinner, maybe?” While the first part of his reply was in a hoarse, stuttering whisper, when he had asked to discuss the situation over dinner, a wheedling tone had crept into his voice. I considered again that his CV hadn’t shown any jobs in his recent past.

  “This is important to me; I’d be happy to meet you this evening, if that would be okay? The website said that you were in Milton Keynes; are you still there, Mr. Rutland?”

  The other man’s reply came as quickly as his previous answers had been slowly delivered. “Yes—tonight is excellent. I’m not in Milton Keynes anymore. I’d like to meet somewhere public; can you meet me in Leicester Square around seven? I’ll be wearing trainers and an MK Dons jersey.”

  While I was excited, I was also a bit concerned by Rutland’s eagerness to meet up on a Sunday evening, so it was a relief that he’d been the one to suggest meeting in a public place. “Mr. Rutland, I’ve seen your picture on the website, but I’m a white guy, about six foot two, and with short red hair. I’ll be wearing brown shorts and a green T-shirt.” I paused, ready to hang up, before hastily adding, “You can reach me on this number—see you at seven.” I wasn’t sure if Donald had gotten that last bit, because the call terminated without any reply.

  Checking my social media page, I was somewhat disappointed to see that there’d been no acceptance of my friend request to the other potential lead, the Bristol woman. “Well, more time to figure out how to make this meeting without pissing off Dana even more,” I said to myself while trying to ignore my misgivings about going to meet Donald. Indeed, even though I’d been the one to contact him, I suddenly had visions of Phil’s mad charge. I shivered, wondering whether or not this meeting was worth the risks to my person and my marriage. In any event, I still wanted to find any information that might be useful for clearing my name with Detective Badger. I thought about calling Toscan for backup, but then decided that it would be too hard to explain without revealing the truth.

  I spent the afternoon taking Olivia to the park, and I gave my sister, Judy, a video call to catch up on how she and the kids were doing. Everything was fine there, although Dad wouldn’t stop spoiling his grandsons and yes, they were suffering the same kind of heat in Wisconsin that we were in London. At least they had AC. Eventually, it was time to break the news to Dana. Let’s just say that I left the house to the smell of baking bread and leave it at that.

  I arrived at Leicester Square at around a quarter to seven, having grabbed a bus to Northfields and then taken the Piccadilly line from there. I was fifteen minutes early, but given the state of public transport in the wake of the latest spending cuts, the fact that I hadn’t been an hour late was a bit of surprise. I scanned the crowd for Donald’s face and marveled at the number of people out and about on a Sunday evening, seeing a mix of tourists gawking at the theater signs and Londoners clearly going from point A to point B. I took up a spot just outside of an ice cream shop and scanned the crowd for a further five minutes before making like a teenage girl on prom night and giving it up. I dialed Donald’s number and waited for three rings before I heard him pick up.

  “I’m in front of Burger King.” The man’s statement sounded slightly breathless, and I wondered if it was from anticipation or from hurrying to make it to the meeting on time. Even though I had given him a description, I doubted that Mr. Rutland would be able to spot me, and experience told me to use that advantage to the fullest. Instead of looking in that direction or heading toward him, I simply answered, “I’ll be there in five minutes,” and then hung up.

  I started walking back toward the underground station, keeping a close watch out of the corner of my eye. In short order, I had spotted the face of the man I was meant to meet; he was just where he’d said he’d be, scanning the crowd continuously. From that brief glance, I felt even more worried than I had been, because although I’d seen his picture a dozen times over the past couple of days, I might have missed him if he hadn’t told me his location. The smartly dressed, middle-aged man with gray hair, steely blue eyes, and a ramrod-straight bearing had been replaced by a paranoid-looking vagrant that jerked and twitched incessantly.

  I cut down a side street and considered my options again. I could go home. There was no reason to do anything more than report to work on Monday, say that OMG was the best option, keep my head down with the police, and try to forget everything that had happened over the past few weeks. Or…I could turn around, talk to the stranger, figure out what was going on, ensure that I did my job properly, try to clear my name, and make a real difference.

  CHAPTER 19 1930–1945, Sunday, August 2, 2015

  ***Julian***

  I’m a glutton for punishment, and a few minutes later, I was discovering that Donald Rutland was a glutton for cheeseburgers. When I walked up, he immediately grabbed my hand and pumped it enthusiastically, saying, “Mr.—Mr. Adler it’s good to meet you let’s get something to eat right away I’m starving suddenly.” The words came out in one long rush after the initial stutter, but I was relieved that they didn’t have the hoarse, oddly breathless quality that I’d heard earlier. I optimistically chalked that up to the man being winded from hurrying to make it to the meeting on time. Boy, was I about to be wrong.

  Following Rutland into the fast-food joint, I saw him digging in the pocket of his frayed jeans. I’d always intended to pay for the meal, but after seeing the state he was in, I certainly wasn’t going to let him pick up the bill. I hoped that he wouldn’t be insulted, but I held out my hand, making a motion for him to hold, and dug out my wallet.

  “I’m the one that made you take time out of your Sunday evening, Mr. Rutland. I’ll get this and expense it as necessary background research,” I said with a smile. Any reticence that had been in the man’s eyes melted away as I made it clear that the cost of the meal wouldn’t be coming from me personally—a glimpse of the true businessman shining through. He nodded once and scurried up to the counter without saying another word. Everyone likes to stick it to the man.

  Now that I was closer, I examined him man more carefully. His limbs were thin, and his hair was stringy, white, and disheveled, but his clothes, though cheap and clearly second- or thirdhand, seemed to be clean. I was still wondering about the contradictions presented to me when it was my turn to order. The cashier had to repeat herself a couple of times to get my attention. When she finally succeeded, I asked for a regular burger meal and a Coke, so she punched up the full damage. Not paying much attention, I waved my card at the contactless payment reader; it flashed red and beeped at me. I used to know a girl that did that.

  “Is everything all right, sir? Should I cancel part of his order?” The young Asian woman at the till looked concerned and glanced over my shoulder at the rough-looking Mr. Rutland. My jaw must have dropped, and I thought for a moment that maybe I really had better expense this before I replied.

  “No, that’s fine. It’s my treat tonight,” I said with a wink and a smirk. The woman looked at me like I was the one that was crazy but then again, how many people dropped fifty-five pounds on hamburgers?

  I inserted my card into the reader, paid, and walked to a table with Donald, where we took our seats to wait for the massive order to be
brought out. A few moments of silence passed while he stared at the other patrons’ food with a look of longing, and then I opened my mouth and broached the topic of this unlikely meeting.

  “So, Donald—”

  “Call me Don, please,” he interrupted, and flashed me a tentative smile that showed a mouth full of straight, white teeth. Once again, he’d defied my expectation of a vagrant and underscored the fact that if he was in rough straits, it was a relatively recent state of affairs.

  “So, Don, I’ll cut to the chase. I understand that you worked extensively with OMG a couple of years ago on a large project in Milton Keynes?” I watched his face intently as I asked the question, seeing a look of panic when I mentioned the firm’s name. “Is there some problem? Did something happen after the project?” I continued and stared at the man intently. He was just on the verge of speaking when…the food arrived.

  The pile of food in front of me made my jaw drop again as I counted at least eight burgers of various sorts, half a dozen sides, and two milkshakes. My meal looked almost ludicrously small, and I had finished the burger and fries within three minutes, hoping to get back to the topic at hand. Although Don’s meat mountain (hey, that would make a great name for a restaurant…or adult film) was quickly shrinking under a shockingly determined assault, I got impatient and tried to interrupt.