by Dermot Davis
"Do you take me for a fool?" she said straight off, as she held out the sheet of paper that he had given her with the list of names typed upon it. "Explain this list," she said, plopping it down upon his desk.
Making a show of checking the list out with a puzzled expression, Andrew looked from her face to the list and back again. "Explain the list?" he asked, as if he didn't understand her concern.
"I may be somewhat out of the loop, working six thousand miles away, but my preliminary investigations suggest that this is a list of names of the most loyal and trusted operatives that this West Coast branch of the organization can boast. This is a core grouping… of this whole operation, Andrew. Did you know that?"
"No, I, uh," Andrew mumbled as he took another look at the list of names. "I had no idea."
"So, then, explain to me why you are presenting those names as suspect? Well? Do these individuals look like rogue elements to you? Because their actions and history and loyalty to this company and what we do here would suggest otherwise."
Still fuming and standing by his desk, Abigail didn't look like she was going to be easily appeased or calmed any time soon. Still stalling, and hoping that she would at least sit down and discuss the issue rationally and calmly, Andrew looked at his screen and typed some gibberish on his keyboard.
"What are you doing?" she asked impatiently.
"Just checking something," he answered, as if he might yet be able to solve the mystery to her liking. "No," he finally said, as if, unfortunately, he too, were now flummoxed. "These came straight from Simon's files, his secret and encrypted files. I'll have to dig some more to find out why he would have these individuals listed as accomplices."
"Perhaps then you can tell me how you broke his encryptions?" she asked, obviously testing him.
"Various software programs that I use," he answered confidently. "Not sure of the exact one I used for this one, maybe several, a combination, I think, pretty sure..."
"I'll need more than this, obviously," she eventually said with disgust. "Much more than this… if I'm to present it to the higher ups. I’ll need proof… evidence. How do you think this makes us look?" she then asked.
Unable or unsure how to respond, Andrew raised his lower lip to form a grimace, suggesting uncertainty.
"I've put myself on the line for you, Andrew, and I didn't expect you to let me down. I didn’t expect to see you let yourself down but, let's face it, your work has become sloppy. I expect more and so should you. If you're going to stand behind this list, then I need reasons. I need hard evidence: dates, events, back and forth emails, anything suggesting individual culpability or group collusion. You have an opportunity to redeem yourself here. Do you understand?"
"Yes, of course, certainly. I see now that I released the names too soon. I should have done more due diligence, my mistake."
"We'll leave it at that, then," Abigail said as she turned and left the sheet of paper on the desk before him. She stopped. "Oh, by the way," she added in a more affable tone of voice.
"Yes?" Andrew asked when the British woman paused.
"Chin up about your missing girl. I've gotten positive reports. Our people are following some definite lines of inquiry," she said with a convivial smile.
"Oh, good, that's great," Andrew replied, wondering to himself what exactly she was implying. "How do you mean?" he finally asked, knowing that he'd regret not asking if she left it at that.
"I mean that the persons to whom I've entrusted with this important task are rewarding my belief with actual results. They assure me that the location of the missing girl is within sight and I believe them."
"Well, that's great news," Andrew said. He wondered what she really meant. Some of her words seemed loaded and her suggestions veiled. Her meaning was mostly lost upon him.
"I shall keep you informed, of course," she then said as she left.
"Thank you," Andrew called after her as an afterthought. Looking back at the list of names before him, he grimaced again. What was Simon up to? Was Simon setting him up? It wouldn’t be completely unexpected, although he would be disappointed if that were the case. If the names that Simon had provided to him were of the most trusted and core workers in the organization, then Simon must have known that and so had a very definite purpose for sending that list of names to him. Was Simon laughing his head off in his prison cell as he was listing the names of so-called rogue employees and sharing them? What was Simon thinking?
Simon paced the exercise yard and kept a close eye on Henry who was slowly walking in front of him. Since being told by Andrew that Henry was to become part of the deal, Simon had asked many other inmates about Henry in order to ascertain the man’s character. Apart from being considered a conspiracy freak, all of the feedback that Simon had received about the man was in no way unfavorable. He may run his mouth off about the powers that be but, by all accounts, the man was harmless.
"Hello, Henry," Simon said amiably as he caught up with the man and matched his walking pace with his. "You don't know me but I'm a friend of your past cellmate, Andrew."
Henry almost stopped walking upon hearing the name. Looking furtively around, to see if Simon might have friends, Henry looked back around and kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. "Oh, yeah?" Henry then said suspiciously. "And you are?"
"I'm your new best friend," Simon answered with a smile. "Andrew asked me to take care of you, so to speak."
"Take care of me, how?"
"I'm getting a new legal team, top class legal team," Simon said casually.
"Good for you," Henry said, sounding like he wanted the conversation to be over with already.
"Andrew requested that I have my attorneys represent you as well and get you out of here, free and clear."
Henry stopped walking, looked around, and then looked at Simon straight on. "Why would you or Andrew, or anyone else for that matter, want to pay for a legal team to get me out of this place?" he asked bluntly. "Are you trying to recruit me? Is that what's happening here?" he then asked, sounding annoyed.
"Recruit you for what?" Simon asked, as if it were an idiotic suggestion. Henry shook his head and walked on. "No, wait, hold up, listen," Simon said as hurried and caught back up. "Andrew feels bad about what happened to you, putting you in hospital and everything. He wants to make good and help you out."
Again Henry stopped walking and got up into Simon's face. "I know who you are," he said, like he wasn't the idiot that they were obviously taking him for. "You're the rich, secret society guy," he said, like he was no fool. "So, what are you thinking? You pay my bills, get me out of here, and then you own me? I know how this works, pal," Henry said, getting closer to Simon, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. "You do me a favor and then one day I get the call and you want to call the favor in? Sorry, I'm my own man and I don't take a dive or sell out for nobody," Henry said and walked on, indicating the end of the conversation.
"Oh, boy," Simon said aloud as he watched a resolute Henry walk away.
"Visitor," a guard announced as he walked toward Simon. "Let's go." Simon turned and followed the guard to the prison visiting room.
Sitting waiting for Simon in the visiting room sat a very disturbed-looking Andrew. "What's up?" Simon asked as he sat opposite the young man. "This is becoming a habit. Didn't know you liked me so much, I'm touched," Simon joked.
"The names," Andrew said, getting right to business. "What's the deal with the names?"
"That's what you wanted, right? I figured you'd be thanking me, having hit the jackpot like that. You're welcome."
"You know what I'm talking about," Andrew said gruffly, not in the mood for joking around.
"No, actually, I don't," Simon said, his mood turning serious. "Why don't you start again?"
"The names you gave me are no good."
"Why so?"
"Because they just so happen to be the names of the core group of the organization that's holding the place together, apparently," Andrew said brusquely.
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"Correct," Simon said, looking like he was wondering what the fuss was all about.
"That's all you've got to say? Correct?"
"Andrew, what do you want me to say? You asked for names, I gave you names. Now you come back here and tell me that's it not good enough, you want more, you want something else, is that it? You want me to do your job for you?"
"No, I don't want you to do my job. I trusted you. I came clean, I thought that you did too. This was supposed to be a new working relationship, based on trust, respect," Andrew said, looking like he was at the end of his rope.
Simon looked like he was equally exasperated with Andrew and took a minute to gather his thoughts. "Did you look any of them up?" he then asked.
"I couldn't find anything."
"Okay, so you gave up the names without anything to back them up with, am I correct?"
"Yeah, sort of."
"You got balled out, presumably by Abigail and now you're back here, balling me out. Am I correct?"
"I guess."
"Okay, just so we're clear," Simon said, relaxing a bit. "The names are good," he then said firmly. "Or, let me put it this way. As far as you and I are concerned, the names are gold. We just need to follow them up with proof."
"I don't understand. The names are good for us or the names are good for Abigail?"
"Exactly," Simon said like he had made his point.
"Well, which is it?" Andrew asked, sounding confused.
"Which do you want them to be?"
"What?"
"You came to me, told me that you wanted to take down Abigail and the organization and you wanted names in order to do so," Simon said and waited for an acknowledgment.
"You're making this way more confusing than it needs to be," Andrew said, tired of the mystery already.
"I think that you're the confused one, old son," Simon said, leaning back with an exasperated expression. "You're just not on your game, are you? You'll end up taking us both down if you don't get your head screwed on the right way. What is it you want? You want to please Abigail and get a promotion or do you want to take the place crashing to the ground? You need to take a side here, for heaven's sake!"
"I want to take them down," Andrew finally said, after a several second deliberation. "Look, I know I'm not on top of things, okay? Fiona's gone missing and my head's been up my ass ever since she left."
"What do you mean, Fiona's gone missing?" Simon asked with concern. "She's gone missing for you or gone missing for everybody?" Judging by Andrew's silence and the look of dread on his face, Simon knew the answer. "You're sure she hasn't gone back to the desert or gone off on some equally baffling adventure someplace?"
"No, I'm not sure," Andrew answered weakly. "Without physically going out there, which I haven't got the time to do, no, I don't know if she's deliberately gone AWOL."
"Well, then?" Simon asked, shaking his head in vexation with the young man.
"It's just a feeling, I guess. She left her car here and I’ve had some bad dreams. Besides, Abigail says that they're close to finding her; they're following definite leads or some crap."
"You went to Abigail with your sad-sack personal problems?" Simon asked with derision. "You're a bigger loser than I thought."
"It's not like that, okay?" Andrew objected, his feelings hurt. "She got herself involved. I didn't go to her with anything... except these lousy names."
"Okay, look," Simon said, leaning in closer and adopting a more parental tone. "I'm sorry for the accusation, really I am, but Abigail can't be trusted, alright? The less she knows about anything, the better, understand? She's a full serpent, in the truest meaning of the word."
"I know that!" Andrew said firmly. He stared at Simon, and read the honesty in his expression and emotion, and felt renewed respect for the man.
"Okay, good. You need to start thinking smart or we're both going down, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," Andrew answered respectfully.
"Those names will rock this organization to the ground, understand? I've been tracking those people for decades and I don't give up what I can't back up… with hard evidence. Each one of those individuals are hardcore organization fanatics; they live, sleep and dream the organization, heck, each of them take a bullet before they'd see any harm come to the place, understand?"
"Yes."
"Abigail threw the names back in your face because everyone knows how loyal the individuals on that list really are. However, I have compiled an inventory, a log of their most serious errors. Let's say, on certain occasions, they overstretched and broke the law, or did something against—or which looks bad for—the organization. Do you follow?"
"Yes, I think so."
"The hard evidence that I have looks very, very bad for them. In fact, when Abigail or anyone else higher up gets to see this evidence, it will cause them to doubt their loyalty to the organization and to the Order. And that's all we need, in actuality, to sow the seeds of doubt. Secrecy can be a great strength but it can also be a terrible weakness. We need to use it to our strength and show up their weaknesses."
"Okay," Andrew said, listening hard in order to follow Simon's train of thought.
"With the evidence provided, under questioning, they will have to admit their guilt. From the firm's point of view, that guilt is a bomb that will have just exploded in their faces. In order to protect the organization, the higher ups will have to assume the worst: these people are rogue and they need to be cut loose. However, they will also know that if they do cut them loose, then there goes the backbone of the organization and the local Order of the Wise Serpents."
"Okay, brilliant," Andrew said, feeling like he was beginning to understand everything.
"With the organization threatened and shaky on its feet, we hit them with something else, a one-two punch. Then, Shazam! We knock them out, they crash to the floor."
"Brilliant!" Andrew agreed, and sat forward in his seat with excitement.
"You giving her the list was merely step one. She may have fussed and swore at you but that is because already it has sown some doubt. Abigail despises uncertainty."
"So, you did set me up!" Andrew cried foul.
"I sent you the list; it was up to you what you did with it," Simon explained. "You want to play this game, put on your big boy pants."
"Fair enough," Andrew agreed, racking his brain to try and put it all together. "So, what's the second, knock-out punch?" he then asked.
"I don't know," Simon admitted. "We'll have to put our heads together and come up with something, what do you say?"
"How do I get hold of the evidence? On the fifteen names?"
"It's on my computer. I'll write you," Simon answered just as he saw the guard approach to signal that visiting time was up.
"Cool," Andrew said as Simon stood up. "I love getting your letters," he said with a smile.
Half asleep, feeling almost completely out of it, Fiona lay on the bed and stared blankly at the shafts of sunlight that pierced the cracks in the boarded window above her. Sometime later she realized that she’d heard a noise. Turning her head towards the darkness of the room, she noticed a tray on the bedside table. The tray contained a glass of water and what appeared to be buttered slices of bread. She didn't remember seeing anyone place the tray of food there nor did she remember exactly how long she had been held captive. It had most likely been just a few days since she was kidnapped but it felt like forever.
Drifting, concerned about how she would survive this, Fiona’s thoughts returned to her life-changing experiences in the desert and her training with Arjuna. Remembering the times that he had insisted that she align with her core, and connect to her inner strength, she remembered what that had felt like and focused her weak physical energy inwards rather than outwards. With Arjuna’s kind face in her mind’s eye and his wisdom reverberating in her mind’s ear, she took some deep breaths as she instructed her being to come into alignment. She imagined her mind, her body, her soul, her en
ergy, and her emotions, all syncing up, harmonizing, and she could feel herself growing stronger and more vibrant as a result.
In an altered state of consciousness, replenishing her energy from the very core of her own Soul and self, more and more she felt not just stronger but also safer and less afraid. Feeling the presence of her own shimmering, expansive, over-shadowing soul, her body and entire being felt protected and cared for. As she slowly regained waking consciousness, aware that she felt restored and deeply healed, she heard voices. They sounded muted at first but, as her brain began to slowly wake up, she could hear that they belonged to two men, most likely the two men who had abducted her on the street.
She could now tell that the voices were louder than two people having a conversation. It sounded like they were arguing intensely about something. Considering this an interesting development, and intuitively understanding that this circumstance could be in some way fortuitous, she wondered what they might be arguing about. It crossed her mind that their disagreement might concern her in some way. Leaving the bed to walk closer to the door, Fiona tip-toed in her bare feet across the room. Placing her right ear against the door, she could only hear muffled sounds.
Going to the bedside table she drank the glass of water in one thankful gulp and returned to the door with the empty glass. Placing the bottom of the glass to her ear, she placed the open end on the door. “They let us down... double-cross... not pleased... change of plan... up shits creek... big trouble.” Although she could now make out some words here and there, she had a hard time putting it all together into a cohesive dialogue. It was only when she heard the words, "Move her," that she considered herself to be the one at risk.
When the shouting stopped and she suddenly heard heavy footsteps approach, Fiona ran to the bed. She heard the familiar sound of keys jangling before the key finally turned in the lock and the door swiftly opened. Without hesitation, the same gruff man as before entered the room and grabbed her roughly by the arm. "What's going on?" Fiona asked as she was being manhandled towards the door.