by Claire Kane
Then he thought of Lacey, and the fact that she was now alone with her boss and his thoughts. Summoning all his willpower, he hurled one of the creatures off him, and then another. They bounced back immediately, but in the few seconds he bought, he leapt over a building and happened to spy something that warmed him; a crucifix atop an older structure nearby, with the words “St. Ignatius” on a stone tablet sign on the lawn. He smiled. “Bingo.”
The monsters must have seen it too, because they redoubled their efforts to reach him before he could slip through the door, but Victor managed to outrun them. The few that flew into the church behind him pulled up short, and seemed to effervesce in the presence of so many holy symbols and, his gut told him, in the confines of sacred ground. Immediately, they fled, leaving him with time to think.
Too close, he thought. Every time, too close. I need to figure out how Rao protects herself.
He took a moment to look around the church. The demons would give up and go away eventually. He hoped they didn’t stick around until daybreak like they had that night he holed up in an open-air Japanese shrine just ahead of flying home to America, but he figured he had at least a while before they gave up and went after some other poor, unsuspecting soul. Surveying the room, he found it was like any other Christian church he’d been in; high ceiling, a little stained glass against the wall behind the pulpit on either side of the large cross. Rows of empty pews rested quietly in the dark, but he saw everything perfectly clear. His mind went back to Lacey and he wished she were here with him, instead of trapped with her creepy boss. Out of habit, and real concern for the woman he loved, he dropped to his knees and looked upward.
“So, God, I know I haven’t followed Rao’s advice to come home. Please don’t take that personally. It’s not that I don’t want to go to Heaven. I’ve always wanted to. But, well, I love her, Lord. And I really want to figure a few things out before I come back. If you’d let me give her a hand for a while, I promise I’ll come home once things wrap up. And since I’m trapped in here, and she’s still out with that TV guy, could you send her a hand on my behalf? Just get her away from him safely. Amen.”
A comforting warmth filled him, and the room seemed to lighten. He glanced around for Rao, but found the sensation of light and heat was general. He looked up again. “Thanks, Lord. That’s really cool of you.”
Just then, the light from a back office caught Victor’s eyes. Curious, he drifted toward it and found the illumination coming from under a backroom door. A voice murmured inside, and Victor leaned in to listen, before realizing that nothing was stopping him from simply walking in; and so he did.
The room was simply furnished; a basic desk and chair set against the wall opposite the door, with only a small, curtained window to provide the occupants with any glimpse of the outside; the drapes were not only drawn, but taped to the wall by the hem. An average-looking computer squatted on the desk next to an old-fashioned corded phone. The handset was pressed up against the ear of a man with an atoll of dark hair surrounding the gleaming bay of his scalp. His face was mousey, and his manners were equally jittery—as though he expected to have to scurry to safety at any given moment. Victor thought, for a moment, about trying to connect with the man’s mind and screaming “BOO!” but decided against it at the last moment. Instead, he seated himself on the man’s desk, ready to listen in on what may or may not be an amusing conversation.
Mouse-faced man went silent, just then, but Victor could hear the muffled voice coming through the headset; the man on the other end was clearly not pleased, and was blaming Victor’s unwitting host for whatever problem he was upset about. Curious, Victor calmed his mind the way Rao had taught him, and tuned into the man clutching the handset. Unsurprisingly, all Victor could read from the man was, I’m so dead. I’m so dead. He’s going to murder me and my family and my pets. I’m so dead.
Victor pulled out of the swirling fear and mental paralysis, and focused on listening to the other man. He caught something about “I expect results by the time I arrive,” before the line cut off with an abrupt and violent click. The voice sounded very familiar to Victor, but the poor call quality made it difficult to place perfectly. He sighed, wishing he’d been able to catch more of the unfolding drama. Still curious, he sat and watched as the balding man sagged back in his chair with a shuddering sigh. His surface thoughts were still clear, even without Victor trying to read them, and sweat ran down the little man’s face. Abruptly, he sat up and turned on the computer.
When the machine finished booting up, the man in the chair brought up some accounting spreadsheets—clearly ledgers—and began frantically searching them. Victor found that another perk to being dead was that he was able to read and process information considerably faster than in life. Despite the rapid-fire switch between ledgers he managed to gather that the data concerned a number of foreign and domestic transactions. When the words, “Kyoto Consulting” flashed on the screen, Victor sat up at once. The page was gone almost before Victor could think, but in that brief instant, he saw tens of millions of Yens’ worth in transactions, and something about “parakeets.”
“Wait,” Victor said, leaning forward and pointing at the computer, “go back to that last page.” The man hesitated for the briefest of moments, a halting look of concern flickering in his eyes, then he went on to another page without so much as glancing in Victor’s direction.
“Great. Thanks, dude.” Victor stood, and continued to watch the transactions for several minutes, his host frantically alternating between entering data in blank cells and altering monetary figures in others.
“Whoa,” Victor said, comprehension dawning, “you’re cooking these books good.” He found the practice despicable, but had to give the little man props for being so skilled; had the guy actually been honest, he could have made a very good accountant from the looks of it.
“So what’s a shady dude like you doing in a church office?” Victor wondered aloud. As if in answer to his question, the squeal of brakes sounded outside, followed by a motor cutting out, and a car door slamming a half second later. Mouse-man leapt to his feet, frantically saving his work over and over, as if his very life were about to be erased by a freak computer glitch, and then hurried out of the small office and toward the front door of the church, Victor trailing him. Before the man could reach the vestibule, the front door was thrust open, but caught before it could crash against the wall. A pair of toughs in black clothing and body armor swooped into the room, each one catching one of Mouse-man’s arms. A few seconds later, a stately figure in a tailored suit strode through the open door. Victor’s eyes went wide.
“Mister Taniguchi?”
His one-time boss made no acknowledgement of Victor’s existence, but instead stepped toward the balding man now cowering and squirming in the grasp of the intruders. “Well?” Taniguchi asked Mouse-man.
“I-it’s right in there, Mister Taniguchi, sir. All of it. I was just reviewing the data for accuracy moments ago.”
Taniguchi arched a brow, and even without mind reading, Victor could tell the man was incredulous. “Very well, Mister Howell. Please show me the data.”
“O-of course, Mister Taniguchi, sir. Right this way.” With that, the thugs released the small accountant, who then scampered toward the office he had just come from, Taniguchi and his men close behind.
Inside the office, Mouse-man—No, Victor thought, Howell—quickly took a seat and gestured at the spreadsheet with great animation, like a child showing a pre-school work of art to his parent. “You see, Mister Taniguchi, here are the annual and detailed quarterly reports for your entire importing arm. The computing power was abysmal since I had to keep things off the grid, and on one old PC, but I’ve modified the format to make it more accessible for board meetings. I’m sorry I didn’t email it to you; I wasn’t expecting you to visit again so soon. I know there is no excuse for my delinquency, but—”
“Sloppy,” Taniguchi said quietly leaning forward and peerin
g at the screen. “With the barest glance I can ascertain that you’ve fabricated these numbers.” He straightened, and stared down at his subordinate over his glasses.
“I-I—” Howell stammered, shrinking into his chair as if to escape.
“Now, Mister Howell,” Taniguchi said patiently, kneeling next to the terrified man and placing a hand on his trembling shoulder, “I bear the burden of leadership for a vast number of people. This means that I also bear the blame for their mistakes. Are you familiar with the criminal penalties associated with the level of fraud you have just perpetrated?”
Howell shook his head, still clearly terrified. “Not as well as y-you do, sir.”
“Then you likely do not know the penalties for fraud in my country.”
“Again, n-no, sir.”
“Mister Howell,” the businessman said, rising, “you are an intelligent man. Intelligent enough to attempt to deceive others by using a Christian church to cover these games you are playing. But I have found you out.”
“Sir, I—”
“So I am certain that you understand that if I allow this problem to go unresolved, that I, as the head of my firms, will face trouble on both sides of the Pacific. Am I correct?”
Howell merely whimpered and bit his lip.
Taniguchi raised his chin, still eyeing his subordinate. “I cannot allow that to happen. You will correct this problem.”
Howell nodded frantically, tears streaming from his eyes.
Taniguchi knelt again and locked eyes with the rodent-like accountant. “And do you know what the problem is?” His subordinate seemed torn between nodding or shaking his head. Victor could sense that the man had already wet his pants. “The problem,” Taniguchi said, voice still, but unmistakably clear, “is not the falsification. It’s that it is so apparently obvious that it can’t possibly be missed.” Victor felt a pulse of embarrassment at the statement; he’d actually been fooled by the fraud.
“You did not understand the full objective,” Taniguchi continued. “You merely made the numbers look pleasing; that is only half of the need.”
With that, he stood and abruptly whirled toward the door. He paused at the threshold and, without glancing back, added, “The corrected and impeccable report will be on my desk by sunrise. If I detect so much as a Yen out of place, I will see to it that liability is… appropriately assigned.” Then he calmly walked back out the way he came.
Victor followed his ex-boss easily, stunned at what he had just seen. Eager to determine what was going on, Victor fixated on his boss, and looked for a way to merge into his thoughts, and was surprised to find that his surface thoughts were surprisingly still and focused, and revealed nothing of any particular concern. When he tried to press deeper, he felt a strong and active resistance. Taniguchi pulled to a halt at once, and slowly turned in place, piercing eyes searching the dark bowels of the church. Both of his men drew their guns. Victor held perfectly still, somehow wondering whether the man might actually be able to see him. Taniguchi’s gaze drifted toward Victor, and stopped. Victor half expected to hear his boss call to him, but instead, Taniguchi’s gaze swept onward again. After another few moments, he scowled and turned for the door.
“What was that, boss?” one of the men asked. “Need me to off the nerd?”
Taniguchi waved it away wordlessly and strode out into the night, his men in tow. Victor made to follow him, but didn’t make it more than a few feet from the front door before the swarm of darkness ambushed him, driving him back into the vestibule of the church. A light rain began, drawing a curtain of misty blackness over the retreating form of Akio Taniguchi, a man for whom Victor had just lost a mountain of respect.
FIFTEEN
At Victor’s closed casket service, New Life Church was nearly filled to capacity. Lacey sat in the 2nd pew behind his closest family, waiting for the procession to start.
She recognized his mother, Karen, surprisingly in all white, even to the hat. She was a petite woman with ethereal blond hair, dabbing her puffy eyes. Victor’s father bore a clear resemblance to him, with broad shoulders and thick dark hair, one arm embracing his weeping wife, while he, too, openly shed tears.
Victor took a seat beside Lacey, glumly waiting. He felt deep sorrow for his parents’ loss, wishing he could pat a hand on their shoulders and tell them everything was alright, that he indeed was still alive, just on to the next phase of life.
For a moment he entered his mother’s thoughts. The grief was too strong for him to bear. A web of confusion, of unanswered questions, engulfed him. He’s too young was echoed over and over by the word “Why?” He yanked himself out, and shook his head in his hands.
It will be okay, Lacey said, touching what appeared to others to be the empty space beside her. Although she couldn’t feel him, she could still see him. Even if I wanted to kill you for abandoning me the other night.
Victor turned his head to her. “Hey, I wasn’t abandon—”
She hushed him with a thought, and he sensed that she understood his predicament without him saying it. Her eyes were red, a single teardrop gliding down her smooth cheek. “You really miss me, don’t you?” he said.
The corner of Lacey’s red-lipsticked lips turned up ever-so-slightly. Although she was staring straight ahead, at crosses adorning his black casket, she mentally spoke directly to him. You are a dear person in my life, Victor St. John. I will treasure every moment we have left together.
He smirked. “You’re just happy to find out you won’t be reincarnated into a cockroach.”
She rolled her eyes. Oh, please. Actually, you dashed my dreams of someday becoming Queen of England.
He laughed at that. “Hey—when we’re done with the service, we need to talk about the other night. You know, you and your boss? Oh, and I found some things that might interest you.”
Lacey didn’t hide her frown. I’d rather not remember that night, she thought. But, and she sighed, I think we need to discuss it nonetheless.
“I said a prayer for you, you know,” Victor said. “Last night, at another church. Looks like it worked. You’re okay.”
Lacey actually felt a little tug at her heart to hear that, but she didn’t let it through, instead keeping her eyes fixed on the preacher who stood to start the service by appropriately reading passages from The Bible on “the love of God.” Lacey found the sentiment sweet, despite her theological differences.
There was a subtle squeak of a large door opening from the right rear of the chapel. Victor automatically turned to see who would be his last guest. Surprisingly, it was Taniguchi. The Asian man took a remaining space closest to the exit.
Taniguchi patted and smoothed his tie, keeping a straight face. Victor growled. “Lacey,” he hissed. “Don’t turn around, but my old boss is here. I’ll tell you about it later, but I found out some… really not cool things about him last night.”
Please be quiet, Victor. Lacey’s thoughts returned. I’m in the middle of mourning your death. This service is very touching. You really should pay attention—it won’t happen again.
Victor grimaced slightly. “Fine.” And yet, he was more interested in seeing who had come to memorialize him than he was in what was being said about him.
As he scanned the room, he spotted someone else he knew all too well, sitting rather alone, as there was space to the left and right of her. Jessica wore a black cocktail dress with glitter across the bust. He knew she liked large sunglasses, but today hers were huge, perched just under a wavy black sunhat. One would think she was trying to go incognito with such accessories. Victor’s sight automatically zoomed in on her eyes; through the dark glasses, he saw tears brimming.
“My boss and Jessica are both here,” Victor quietly told Lacey.
Lacey didn’t turn to see, not wanting to be obvious. Perhaps she would approach them at the close of the service. Those were the only two guests of the funeral who she knew had connections to Victor’s time in Japan. She crossed her legs, the skirt of her simple
black dress grazing her knees.
It was a beautiful occasion. An hour later, after the closing prayer, Lacey stood, and scanned the room. Victor pointed out where Jessica and Taniguchi were seated. She thought she should at least speak to his former boss. Upon exiting the pew, however, Victor’s mother grabbed Lacey’s shoulder.
“I have something to give you,” she said with a smile through tears.
“Okay.” Lacey glanced back at Taniguchi, who was already out the door. With so many people swarming the aisles to leave, she realized she wouldn’t have a chance to catch him, anyhow.
“Let’s go somewhere more private,” the woman said. Linking arms with Lacey, she ushered her through a side door, and down a dark end of the hall. No one was around.
Karen affectionately took hold of Lacey’s hands. She paused, taking in a deep breath, nervousness apparent. Through tears she gave a giggle. “I’m so happy you could be here.”
Lacey just sympathetically nodded, and gave Karen a hug.
After the warm embrace, Karen unzipped her pastel pink purse. She said, her fingers shaking, “As you know, Paul and I went to Japan to pick up Victor’s things… and arrange with the authorities to fly his body home.”
“Yes?”
“The police met with us. Anyway, they had retrieved something from Victor’s pocket.” She pinched around the purse some more. “They wanted to make sure it was in our possession before leaving.”
“Okay,” Lacey said on the edge of her metaphorical seat. “And this is something you want to give me?”
“Well…” Karen took her hand out, trying to form the right words. “It was something Victor wanted to give you. He really loved you, and I just want to say you would have made a beautiful daughter-in-law.” She wiped some tears.
Karen plucked a small black velvet box out of her purse.