Knife Point

by Jim Heskett

  When he was satisfied everything felt right, he opened his eyes and got to work.

  The fact that Jonah/Wade had not come into work today was disconcerting. Even more was the lack of a phone call to say he was sick, and that he had not returned any calls. Straight to voicemail. Farhad had a feeling—one he couldn’t explain—that new job applicant Louie Pastori had something to do with it. He had heard that Louie was inquisitive, asking all manner of staff members about the organization and the employees. This wasn’t unusual for someone seeking an inside track on a job, but it didn’t feel right coming from this one.

  In fact, Farhad doubted Louie was his actual name. If he had something to do with Jonah not coming to work today, then they were connected somehow. From that first handshake at the fundraiser last weekend, this whole situation had smelled wrong to Farhad. Like the stink of fish left to rot on a kitchen counter.

  But, Louie had no idea Farhad was already working to uncover his secrets. Perhaps soon, he would find himself in a chair in Farhad’s home, spilling his guts. Maybe that big bruiser would cry like a little girl when all his defenses were dismantled. Farhad thought he might enjoy such a show.

  His pocket buzzed, and he took his phone out to see a call from Kelly Krafft-Jones, one of his administrators. He thumbed the button to accept the call.

  “Good evening, Kelly.”

  “Mr. Jahandar, I am so terribly sorry to call you so late. It’s just that you said…”

  “No, Kelly. It’s no problem.”

  “You said you wanted to hear as soon as possible. I just got back to where I can use the phone. You know how service is on the east side of town.”

  He took a breath and put his free hand on his hip. “And?”

  “I went by Jonah's house just now, and his car is there, but he’s not home. All his lights are off, and I was knocking on the door, but he didn’t answer. I even—and I feel so naughty for doing this—I peeked in his bedroom window.”

  “You did?”

  “Mm-hmm. And he’s not home. It was so strange. I don’t know what this is all about. It’s so unlike him to disappear like this and have no contact with me or anyone else at Hillcrest. I mean, he’s never taken a personal day, as far as I know.”

  Farhad stared at the wall safe, studying how moonlight through the window reflected off the metal handle. “Well, I am sorry you had to go through all that trouble, Kelly, but I appreciate how you dedicated yourself to following up. You see, I spoke with Jonah about an hour ago.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, I did. He took a personal day. He lost his phone and was unable to call.”

  She stammered and hesitated for a second, maybe wanting to ask why he couldn’t use another phone and look up Hillcrest’s number on the internet, or why he didn’t have it memorized. But, as Farhad suspected, Kelly didn’t question him.

  “Of course, sir. I’m glad he’s okay. Jonah has seemed kinda… down lately. I’ve been worried about him, you know, the forgetfulness, the falling asleep in staff meetings.”

  “Indeed. Again, thank you for the call.”

  “Good night, Mr. Jahandar.”

  He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. His mouth felt dry, and his heart beat at a steady clip. There had to be a way to gain control of this situation.

  Now, more than ever, he needed to take action here, in his office. Too many loose threads. Not enough time to connect them all.

  Farhad ignored the safe against the wall, and instead pushed his desk over a few inches to reveal the floor safe. He opened it and filled his briefcase with documents. His recorded hypnosis sessions with Jonah, tax papers, bank transfer documents. Anything that could point back to his bosses or him.

  He stopped when he found the memory card labeled “Mariana.” It made him smile. The card contained video recordings of multiple evenings together, from a camera concealed in his bedroom. He felt an urge to call her, but that was not a smart idea. With everything else going on, now was not the time.

  Farhad held the memory card in his hands, sighing at it. His fingers trailed over it as if he were touching the small of her back, which he loved to do in the afterglow of their lovemaking. The feathery, almost-invisible baby hairs that lined the curve above her buttocks.

  He most definitely did not want to get rid of the memory card. Since they were broken up, he had no other record of those glorious nights together. No other way to recall their beautiful lovemaking. But, it was too risky to keep here. It never should have been on the property in the first place.

  With flared nostrils, he dropped the memory card into his briefcase.

  Then, he heard a sound outside the door. Something in the hall. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there.

  The cleaning crew had left already, so it couldn’t be them. Late at night, no one else was working this evening.

  Farhad grabbed the hand sanitizer from his desk and applied a little to his palms as he listened. Once he’d rubbed it in, he drew the revolver from the top drawer of his desk and crept toward the hall.

  17

  Outside the main building of Hillcrest Family & Children’s Services, Layne sat in the rental car. Dark, a full moon above, high in the night sky. Few stars. Maybe only a half dozen winking down at California below.

  He was at the far edge of the parking lot. Lights off in his car, studying the building. The cleaning crew had left thirty minutes before, and the building had been silent and still since then. Only a couple other cars in the lot and Layne recognized neither of them.

  He could still smell Mariana on his clothes. He wasn’t convinced sleeping with her had been a good idea, but he’d done it. She had come on to him, which Layne always preferred. He liked women who went after what they wanted and didn’t make him chase or play games. Layne Parrish had no time for games, or, at least, that’s what he told himself.

  But, with Daphne, all she did was play games. For some reason, he tolerated it from her.

  He shook his head to clear out these thoughts. Time to focus. He left his car and slipped on a dark cap, pulled low. Not that he expected to encounter anyone. But, better to play it safe.

  He crossed the paved lot and checked out both of the dormant cars parked there, and neither one produced anything of interest. He had a reasonable picture of which staff members drove which cars, and he couldn’t place either of these two. Probably, they belonged to a couple of teenagers off in the woods beyond, getting high, having sex, or doing both.

  Next, he headed for the laundry facilities on the first floor, by the west wing of the building. He’d noted the aging windows in that room when on the tour a couple days ago. If they had any security, Layne hadn’t been able to detect it. Just old, single-pane windows that were probably drafty in the winter.

  Outside the laundry room, he scoped out each of the windows. Of the six, two of them were unlocked. So sloppy. Everyone claimed Farhad was a control freak, but he didn’t take care to make sure someone locked the easiest way into the building. Maybe he was too busy running the organization and hypnotizing his employees so he could learn state secrets. Even the best micromanagers miss things from time to time.

  Layne lifted a window and slipped inside with no trouble. He crouched, hand on the floor, feeling for vibrations. The lights were off, and he hadn’t seen anyone, but better to be careful. The room smelled of dryer sheets and soap, plus a hint of bleach, which probably erased the smell of the plumbing. Everything in here had been painted white. Sterile, plain.

  A couple of minutes later, he decided he was safe.

  Layne scurried up the stairs to the third floor, keeping his footfalls light. He had bought new tennis shoes the day before, for just such an occasion. The loafers he’d brought with him to California weren’t ideal for sneaking.

  With each rise in elevation, he peered through the windows into the hallway to check for motion or sounds. So far, everything seemed static.

  On the third floor, he opened the door to t
he hall. Farhad’s office was a few hundred feet to the end, in the corner. The one with the view. While the lights in that room were off, Layne still kept his eyes on it, because he had a sneaking suspicion he might not be alone here.

  Layne entered the hallway. Halfway between him and that office door stood a display case, the inside of which featured various plaques and certificates awarded to HFCS over the years. Like something you’d encounter in a high school.

  Layne saw it a second before it fell. Placed on top of that display case was a feather duster. Someone on the cleaning crew had left it there on accident, most likely. Precariously sitting on the edge. Twelve inches long, most of it dangled in the air over the sides of the display case’s corner, waiting for gravity to yank it from its perch.

  Whether it was due to the air moving from Layne’s footsteps, the door closing behind him, or something else, that feather duster teetered and fell. It twisted in the air and then clacked as it tumbled to the shiny floor. The plastic sounds echoed down the hall, bouncing back and forth amid the glass doors and windows.

  Layne froze.

  Palms sweaty, he waited, perfectly still. Then, at the end of the hall, Farhad’s door creaked open. Layne’s eyes jumped left. An open door. He tensed and leaped toward it, bending his knees to roll.

  How had he missed Farhad in his office? A careless mistake the Layne Parrish of ten years ago never would have made.

  What was Farhad doing in there so quietly, with the lights off?

  Layne landed on the carpet and somersaulted up to his feet. A small room, with motivational sayings on the walls. A ring of chairs arranged in a circle in the middle of the room, a desk in one corner. Whiteboard recently wiped clean. Probably a room reserved for group therapy and lectures. Not likely a baseball bat or crowbar anywhere in sight, so Layne would have to hide and hope for the best.

  No time to hunt for a closet. He slid next to the door to the hall, still open. Footsteps echoed down the hall, coming closer. Only a small set of lights along the floor provided any illumination out there, and nothing in this room. The moon shined in through the window blinds, casting a gray glow on the chairs in the circle.

  Layne breathed in his nose and out his mouth, his body pressed against the wall next to the door. As still as possible, forcing measured breaths to lower his heart rate.

  A moment later, the footsteps appeared right outside the door. Layne saw Farhad, leading with a revolver in one hand. His steps were slow, deliberate. After each movement, he appeared to consider his next step. Farhad must have seen the feather duster. And a man that paranoid would take no chances, assuming someone must have knocked it to the floor.

  Layne scooted back. The feather duster was not far outside this room. Maybe fifteen feet away. Were there other open doors nearby? Layne couldn’t recall.

  The footsteps stopped.

  Layne had no weapon, nothing. His best hope was that Farhad would keep that revolver out in front of him if he turned into this room. Layne had the element of surprise. He could snatch the gun and then tug Farhad off balance.

  But, he couldn’t do that yet. Couldn’t afford to have an altercation. He had no evidence other than Jonah's account of the hypnosis sessions. If he confronted Farhad now, the whole thing was likely to blow up.

  Layne could hear breathing in the hall. He balled his fists. Ready for this to turn sour.

  Layne closed his eyes and waited, listening for the next footstep. It seemed like an eternity had passed with Farhad standing there, in the hall, breathing. What was he doing? He only had to take two steps, and then he’d be next to Layne’s face.

  For several more seconds, time passed, frozen. No motion.

  A moment later, the footsteps started moving in the other direction, past the door and on down the hall.

  18

  Two minutes later, Layne was alone in the building. At least, he thought he was, but he’d been wrong about that once already tonight.

  Farhad had left, a briefcase under one arm, pistol clenched in his other hand. Layne cursed himself as the door shut behind Farhad. Whatever was in that briefcase was probably the exact evidence Layne needed against him. The clue as to why Farhad was hypnotizing Jonah. The big thing Jonah couldn’t remember, the missing piece of the puzzle for Farhad to do… something.

  No matter. Layne was still here, and still needed answers. Still an opportunity to exploit at the moment.

  He padded across the hallway to the other side, the one with the direct view of the parking lot. Inside an office, he carefully approached the window for a better look. Layne first noted a gym bag sitting on top of the desk, filled with rock climbing shoes, a belt, and a braided rope. A fine mist of rock climbing chalk marked the outside of the bag and a circle on the desk around it. When he saw the name placard on the desk for Don Castillo, he remembered Mariana telling him about this guy.

  He watched Farhad slip over the fence into the adjacent space, the dirt area surrounding the maintenance building. A moment later, headlights sliced across the parking lot as a car drove toward the winding road back to town. As if Layne needed more confirmation, Farhad had parked his car behind the maintenance building to come to the office this late at night. Quite suspicious.

  A few possibilities entered Layne’s mind. Ways to get that briefcase. With time and resources, he could arrange a fake traffic stop and have the briefcase confiscated. Or, something better. Was there another way to separate Farhad from that potential evidence? Layne couldn’t think on such short notice.

  The problem was, even if he came up with a brilliant idea in the next few seconds, he didn’t have the manpower to execute it. With Harry watching Jonah and with Layne at Hillcrest, he had no one available to tail Farhad. He thought of calling Serena Rojas, the other current member of the team, but who could predict where she would be in the world right now. She probably couldn’t get to California fast enough to make a difference, at least for tonight.

  Layne had to focus on doing what he could.

  Once he was sure Farhad had left, Layne scurried down the hall to his office. The office door wasn’t too hard to open. A simple key lock, no electronics. Layne studied the door up and down, making sure Farhad hadn’t attached any other means of detection. Mariana had described him as paranoid and overly-protective of his office. Layne had to hope he was also vain enough to not expect anyone to break in, at least not tonight.

  With Jonah not showing up to work today, who knew what the Iranian thought about anything. Layne had come to work and spent the day with Mariana, doing the same sorts of activities as he had the day before. Flirting, working with patients, and anticipating their dinner date.

  He hadn’t seen or heard from Farhad all day long. Layne had made efforts to glean information about the director, but no one could offer anything other than that Farhad kept his own schedule and sometimes worked from home. No one had said much about Jonah, either. As far as Layne could tell, his absence hadn’t caused a great deal of panic or unrest. That might change if he missed a few more days of work, however.

  When Layne entered Farhad’s office, he slipped on latex gloves, and then he noticed something important right away. Farhad kept a safe against the wall. It was a Reiser T30 safe, one of the more recent models on the market. And, quite a challenge to crack. Layne knelt down in front of the impregnable cube. He felt around the back and located a wire leading from the safe into the wall. It had an active security system to detect tampering.

  “Damn it,” he said, rubbing his chin. He went from kneeling to sitting, and he stared at the safe. He wasn’t an expert on this model, but he’d learned enough to know that if he went poking around with heavy hands, he would trip an alarm. No doubt. Probably a silent alarm, too.

  “Wait a second,” he said as an idea occurred to him. If Farhad were as paranoid and careful as he seemed, he wouldn’t keep anything important in this safe, sitting out in the open. This thing was in clear view of the front door to his office, the first thing you see when you
walk in.

  No. This was a decoy safe.

  With a fresh burst of hope, Layne hunted around the room. Looking for a secret switch, or button, he checked behind the framed artwork, under the bases of the sculptures. Layne even picked through the cushions of the couch, looking for a smaller lockbox or something like that. Nothing sat in the basket below the shredder near the far wall. It wasn’t warm, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been used recently. If Farhad had been shredding documents, though, Layne would have heard it down the hall.

  He found nothing. Only the usual office items in all the usual places. Plus about thirty-five cents in change under the couch cushions.

  Then, he noticed it. The slight groove in the carpet, next to his desk. The desk was parallel to the wall, but it was a few degrees off. There was a hint of an indentation in the carpet, as if the desk had moved, but had not been put back in the exact same spot.

  With a grin on his face, Layne pushed the desk a few inches to the side, revealing a cutaway in the carpet underneath where the desk had sat. He pulled back the swatch of carpet to find a safe in the floor.

  “There we go,” he said. “Not as clever as you think you are, Farhad.”

  But, when he knelt, he discovered it wasn’t even locked. He traced gloved fingers across the safe’s surface, trying to note anything strange. Nothing stood out. He lifted the door and found it was empty. That explained the lack of a lock.

  Layne sat at the edge of the floor opening, drumming his fingertips against the carpet. No idea what to do next. He could go to Farhad’s house anyway and try to get the contents of the briefcase, but he wasn’t prepared for a home invasion right now. He would need better equipment. More people. More planning.

  And then, something caught his eye. In the slim space between the cutout in the floor and the outer edge of the safe, he saw something white. A slip of paper.

  Farhad had missed something.

  Layne reached down and eased out the trapped page. It was an invoice for work done on a cabin. Repairing a water heater. There wasn’t a street address, only latitude and longitude. But, it did list Castle Crag State Park on the invoice.