The Consequences Series Box Set

by Aleatha Romig

  Whenever he could, Tony researched rabbit trails of information. Nothing came together. He knew he was missing too many pieces of the puzzle.

  He’d also taken two short calls from Agent Jackson. He read somewhere that fifty-six seconds of connection was necessary to track a call. He wasn’t sure if that were true, but to be safe, he kept their conversations under that mark. Understandably, the FBI wanted more; nevertheless, Tony divulged just enough to keep them pacified.

  “Yes, I’m in Europe.” “No, I haven’t been in contact with anyone in the States.” “Yes. If I didn’t have the damn phone, then you wouldn’t be talking to me now.” “Goodbye.” Although he hated the monitoring, thinking about the calls made Tony grin. Each time he kept the information limited and heard the disdain in Agent Jackson’s voice, Tony felt like he’d accomplished a small victory. Maybe it was only one hand in an all-night card game; nonetheless, each winning hand adds to the final jackpot.

  The razor pulled at his facial hair as Tony worked to once again become Anton Rawls. The financial institution was a mere drive from the hostel where he’d slept. Although his body ached from the too-soft bed, it was nothing compared to the mayhem coursing through his mind. After all these days, his goal was so close.

  During the last few weeks, he’d learned to utilize public transportation, but Tony knew that wouldn’t do for the bank; therefore, dressed in his new finest suit, Tony entered the lobby of one of the nearby five-star hotels and casually ate breakfast in one of its finer restaurants. No one questioned his presence. He obviously belonged. Tony wanted to enjoy the fine cuisine. Undoubtedly, it was the best he’d eaten in a while, but his thoughts of the safety deposit box wouldn’t allow the aroma or taste of Eggs Benedict to register. When he was done, he exited the front door, told the bellman to flag him a cab, and rode to the bank. On any other day, it would have been a customary thing for him to do, but today it was revolutionary.

  No one within the financial institution questioned his identity. Even if they’d seen him before, he was the same Anton Rawls who always visited the institution—the only one to access the safety deposit box in the last twenty-five years.

  When presented with the customary ledgers, Tony stared at the list of signatures. There were his own—or more accurately, Anton Rawls, written repeatedly; however, that wasn’t what caught Tony’s attention. That wasn’t what caused his neck to straighten and his jaw to clench. The last two signatures, directly above where he was about to sign, were from Marie Rawls. The first signature was dated: 11-09-13. It always took a minute to remember that not everyone dated as Americans did. The numbers he saw meant: eleventh day, ninth month of the thirteenth year. The second signature was signed two days later.

  Speaking perfect French, Anton inquired, “Who is this? Did someone else access my box?”

  The employee looked puzzled, read the signature, and then referred to some documents. When he was done, he sheepishly replied, “Yes, sir, your safety deposit box can be accessed by two individuals: you and a Marie Rawls. It appears that the woman who was here presented the clerk with appropriate identification.” Then he asked, “Mr. Rawls, is there a problem?”

  Tony could barely see. He didn’t know what this meant, except that he needed to see inside his safety deposit box and verify his accounts. His short, curt words revealed his obvious displeasure, “There better not be. I want to see my box immediately.”

  “Yes, sir, I need your key, please.”

  Tony handed him the key and followed the nervous man into the vault. The process of inserting both keys took longer than Tony ever remembered. He knew it was his impatience; however, he swore the whole thing was happening in slow motion. Once the box was removed, Tony followed the employee into a private room.

  “Sir, do you want me to stay?”

  “No, leave.” His directive was more of a growl as his dark gaze assaulted the bank’s employee. Tony didn’t care; he wanted the man gone. He needed to see what was inside the box or more accurately, what may be missing, in private.

  The employee stepped quietly from the room and Tony opened the box. In all the years he’d transferred and reinvested Nathaniel’s funds, never had the contents of this box taken him by surprise—until now.

  Instead of the customary documents, Tony reached into the depths of the steel container and removed a disposable international cell phone. It was very similar to the one he had for the FBI. Along with the phone, there was also a charger and an envelope.

  He wasn’t sure if his shaking hands were from rage or fear. His entire plan rested on the collection of these funds. If his money wasn’t here, where was it? Tony thought back to the dates on the signatures: September 9 and 11. During those days, Catherine was in Iowa—with him. Who else could know about this?

  Tony opened the envelope to a letter that was very short—and unsigned:

  Congratulations, you’ve found your way to this clue.

  I can’t be sure who’ll be reading this note, so I can only say that you’ve passed your first test. Congratulations. I believe that deserves a positive consequence.

  I realize you’re not accustomed to being the student, but please know that I sincerely hope your educational experience is glitch-free.

  If you are who I believe you are it will all make sense.

  I didn’t leave you without resources. I wouldn’t do that. I’ve heard it’s a difficult experience to be removed from your life and left at the complete disposal of another; therefore, as your positive consequence, I’ve created one account which is available to you. It can be accessed through the information below.

  To continue your education, I’ve provided you with a cell phone. I assume a lecture in general operating instructions won’t be necessary; however, choose wisely. Remember all actions have consequences.

  The temperature of the small room increased with each word. The weeks of worry about Claire and-and it was all some kind of ruse, some kind of game, a way to steal his money! But why? He had money in the States, more money than she accessed in these accounts. She could’ve had anything she wanted. Thoughts came too fast. Was it about the money, or was it to bring him down publicly—public failure, public humiliation, appearances. Red infiltrated the room. Perhaps it came through the low buzz of the fluorescent lights. He tried to stop it; tried to maintain control. After all, there was an explanation; Tony knew there was. How? How did Claire even know about this account? How could she access it? He had the key!

  Inhaling deeply, Tony closed his eyes. Glitch-free? Consequences? Was that some kind of sick joke? Maybe it wasn’t Claire; after all, she told her story to Meredith. Tony didn’t know how much she’d said. Hell, she told her story to the attorneys in Iowa. The FBI had that account, He’d read the opening sentences. Suddenly, he wished he’d read more when he was with the FBI. Maybe, just maybe, this was some FBI set-up?

  Tony had no choice. He had to take the bait and turn on the phone. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so trapped. In their game of chess, he was in figurative check; however, he didn’t know for sure who’d put him there. Tony looked around the room for an outlet. Finding one, he plugged in the phone. While the small gadget came to life, he worked to still the mayhem in his head.

  What about the account? The last time he checked, he and Catherine had over 200 million dollars invested. What stipend had he been allowed to keep? Red seeped into his thoughts as he considered the possibilities. If the fuck’n FBI thought they could take away his life and his money, then they were sadly mistaken. He was going to get to the end of this, come hell or high water, and damn it, the last seventeen days had been hell!

  When the screen finally lit, Tony accessed the contacts. There were three. The first programmed number wasn’t associated with a name. It was an asterisk (*). The second was the name: Claire. The third was his name: Anthony. He felt the muscles of his neck tighten. Was the information about Claire’s cell phone in that FBI report? The shit about the asterisks? Or was this Claire’s way
of saying it was her? Claire’s way of saying, now I’ve done it to you, and didn’t he deserve it? Tony knew he did; nonetheless, he wouldn’t accept it willingly or play her damn games!

  The signal within the room was too poor to assure a connection. He refused to live in fear. If there was fuck’n teaching to do, he’d be the teacher. Slipping the phone into the pocket of his jacket, Tony collected the charger and the note. Channeling his business-self, he made his way to the front of the bank to learn the contents of his account.

  Claire thought daily about the items she’d left in the safety deposit box. Tony’s plane reportedly went down over two weeks ago. She never considered the possibility that he was truly injured; nevertheless, with each passing day, she felt the need to entertain the possibility. After all, if he were able, wouldn’t he be in Geneva accessing his fortune?

  There were times she worried that he had accessed the box and had chosen not to call. In her mind, she created all different scenarios for his decision. Claire knew, no matter what he decided—whether to call or not to call—his decision wouldn’t be based off his understanding or misunderstanding of her clues. She knew beyond a doubt, Anthony Rawlings was the only man who’d know what she was saying.

  He would know the correct number to call; however, she needed to entertain the possibility that he wasn’t the person who accessed the box. If that were the case, Claire had a back-up plan. She had cell phones associated with each number. The only phone she’d answer was the one identified by the asterisk. During their marriage, when Tony finally allowed her to own a cellular telephone, he programmed her contacts. The only calls she was permitted to answer were those programmed with an asterisk preceding the name. No one else knew this part of their history; she hadn’t shared it with anyone, not even in her memoirs.

  If someone else discovered the safety deposit box, then they would more than likely call one of the numbers associated with a name. If that happened, if one of the other two phones rang, Claire decided she wouldn’t answer; instead, she’d destroy all three international disposable phones and focus on her future.

  She’d spent the morning in the gardens with Francis. The fertility of the soil, combined with the sun and rain, produced yields Claire could never have imagined in Iowa or Indiana. After a cooling swim in the pool, a shower, and lunch, Claire was spending her afternoon relaxing on her bed and reading a book. The tranquility of the sea breeze and the sound of the surf had her in a near hypnotic state. An afternoon nap was growing nearer as the words of her book lost focus and her eyelids fought to remain open.

  The ring to her untraceable international phone made her jump, evaporating the tropical serenity. It was the correct phone—the one linked to the asterisk. Although she was apprehensive about his initial reaction, she had no option. Claire wanted to answer. It was now or never. Ring… ring…

  Steadying her voice, despite her trembling hands, Claire hit the RECEIVE button and spoke, “Hello, Tony.”

  “My God, it is you!” As his volume increased, she imagined his dark eyes and the vein in his neck pulsating. She recognized the change in his tone as his words came in a low growl from behind gritted teeth, “What have you done?”

  Staying steadfast, Claire spoke with confidence, “If I hang up, then you’ll never be able to contact me again. The choice is yours.”

  Closing her eyes, Claire listened as he struggled for composure. It took a few minutes until he finally sighed and said, “I’m glad you’re alive. Do you have any idea the hell we’ve been going through? What about… our… baby?”

  A smile broke through her concerned expression. With relief, she replied, “Our baby is well.”

  Finally, he spoke coherently, “Thank God.” She didn’t know if it was anger or pain; either way, his words were laced with emotion. “How in the hell did you do this? Where are you? And where is my money?”

  “It’s nice to hear from you, too. I’m sure you’re confused, but…” Her tone mellowed. “…I’ve missed you, and I’m glad the reports of your untimely demise were also exaggerated.”

  “Claire, what the hell is happening?” He repeated, “Where are you? And where is my money?”

  “I’m here, and your money is nicely invested. You’ll be happy to know it’s made some unexpected positive returns of late. You know, with the recent increase in oil options.”

  “I’m thrilled.” He exhaled. “Where is here?”

  “Of course, I’m considering a heavier investment in logistics. I’ve read that it’s the wave of the future. Manufacturing has so many variables.”

  “Could we forgo the discussion on investment options? I want to know what you’ve done.”

  “And I want my life—the one we just had. Can we both get what we want?”

  His voice reminded her of the business Anthony Rawlings; assessing the climate and gathering the facts. “Were you taken? Or did you leave me?”

  “Tony, do you trust me?”

  “What?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “I want to, but you left me—again. You took my money.” His volume, once again, increased. “How? How did you even know about it?”

  Her resolve was fading. If he hung up, then it was over. She didn’t want that. “Tony, I made a mistake, many mistakes. I believed someone else instead of trusting you and living up to our promise. I’ve learned the truth, and I want you to know that I trust you, and I’m so sorry.”

  Tony struggled for words. “Someone else? W-what are you talking about?”

  “We’re both children of children… and so is our child…”

  Initially, he remained silent. Claire wondered if he was truly processing her meaning. Finally, he asked, “How did you pull this off?”

  “Trust me, and we’ll see it through together.”

  “I don’t seem to have any other choice.”

  “Actually, you do,” Claire said as she looked at the large diamond engagement ring hanging from the gold chain around her neck. Although she hadn’t been wearing it on her finger, she never gave it away, sold it, or let it be far from her. She’d followed his rules; nevertheless, she needed to give him an out. If she didn’t then she’d always wonder if he wanted her or the money.

  “Claire, don’t play games. You’re not making any sense.”

  “I can assure you, this isn’t a game. I gave you an out, similar to the one you presented to me years ago. You may leave, with your freedom and a new identity. Being the generous person I am, I left you one million dollars, of your money, which is more than you gave me when you divorced me.” Claire heard an exasperated humph on the other end of the line. She waited, but when Tony didn’t speak, she continued, “That’s enough to support you for the rest of your life. You may need to cut a few coupons, but I believe you’ll eat regularly, otherwise, you may agree to be with me, on my terms, and we’ll work together to right some wrongs. The choice is yours.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Am I serious? Well, I realize you’ve been removed from your life. I realize your reputation has taken a hit. I also realize your company is suffering. I can’t and won’t take responsibility for most of that, but believe me, I know what it’s like to have your entire world turned upside down.” She waited; he didn’t respond. “I also know who’s done this to both of us. I know that disappearing for a while is our best option, and most importantly, I want to spend my disappearance with you. Do you want to spend yours with me?”

  He exhaled. “Claire, I’d give up everything in the world to be with you and our child.”

  “Tony, that’s not enough for me. I want you—I want our baby—and I want our life back. Will you help me?”

  When he didn’t immediately respond, Claire’s heart dropped. Would he take the out? “Tony?”

  “I want it all too. What do you mean, your terms? Who did what to us? And who told you about the money?”

  “Really, Tony? How many people knew about it? How many people would consider us both children of chi
ldren?”

  Claire waited as tears once again coated her cheeks. He was supposed to understand, forgive, and trust. That’s the scenario she’d imagined. That was what she planned. Unable to contain the sound of her cries, Claire took a ragged breath and lay back on the bed. While she waited for Tony to respond, she felt their child moving within her.

  When she once again heard his voice, she immediately knew it wasn’t the tone she’d hoped for. “Are you and our baby safe?”

  She managed to say, “Yes.”

  “Claire, if I call this number again, will you answer?”

  Her head nodded, but her lips wouldn’t communicate the same message. Damn him! Didn’t he understand she’d been through hell too? “Are you saying you don’t want to be with us?”

  “No.” He lowered his voice. “You don’t understand what I’ve been through.”

  She clenched the ring on the golden chain. “Tony, it hasn’t been easy for me either. I need you. We need you.” It was more of an admission than she wanted to make, but somehow she wanted to make him understand.

  He repeated, “Will you answer?”

  Claire knew he didn’t like to repeat himself. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she said, “All I wanted from you was a simple yes. Was that so difficult?”

  “Will you answer?”

  She couldn’t lie; then again, she couldn’t be truthful. At that moment, Claire wasn’t sure of what she’d do. “I don’t know, Tony. Will you call?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The line went dead…

  Chapter Thirteen

  For every good reason there is to lie, there is a better reason to tell the truth.