Hush (21 page)

The office wasn’t at all what I expected it to be.  When I think of a private detective, I imagine Bogart in a film noir with a large-brim hat and masked in shadows, donning a cape-like trench coat.  That was not at all what I walked into.

A young receptionist typed busily on her keyboard, hardly noticing me as I approached her desk.  She was probably my age.  I waited patiently, as she appeared to be hurrying to get her thoughts into an email before they passed her.  “I’m sorry about that,” she smiled when her fingers stopped moving.  “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Noel,” I said.

“Do you have an appointment?”

I shook my head.  “No but I, uh, I couldn’t,” I hesitated.  “I don’t.  If he’s busy now, I can make an appointment for a later time.  I thought I’d come in and see if he was free.”

The woman smiled kindly and nodded.  “Why don’t I go see if he’s free.  He may have time to see you.   What’s your name?”

Lie.  “Uh, Jessica White,” I said with conviction.

“If you want to have a seat, Mrs. White, I’ll be right back.”  She rose from her seat and disappeared behind a door a moment later.  I fell into the stiff chair nudged up against the wall, suddenly feeling the strong urge to flee.

You can’t leave.  You’ve gotten this far.  I looked over my shoulder, out the double glass doors of the office, half expecting to see someone watching me on the other side; the tail I’ve been trying to avoid.  Nick thought I was in surgery.  Callem didn't know I was here and I hoped to keep it that way.  I was running out of plans and chances.  Imagine if I was caught in this office now.  I’d probably be put on house arrest.

The door opened and rather than the receptionist reappearing, I was greeted by a tall brawny man with rich dark skin and luminous white teeth.   He held out his large hand as he approached.  “Mrs. White, I’m Conrad Noel.”

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, standing.  My hand was swallowed by his massive palm as we shook hands.  “I hope I’m not a bother.  If you’re busy, I can come back later.”  At least I hope I can.

“No, no, not a problem,” his deep voice resonated through his hand and up my arm.  “You actually caught me at a good time.  I’m not usually in the office.  Today’s your lucky day.  Come on back, we’ll talk.”

I smiled weakly and followed him behind the door.  “You’re going to have to excuse the mess in my office,” he said as he led me down a long hallway.  “I’m not in much and if I would have known you were coming, I would have done some housekeeping.”

“I would have made an appointment earlier but,” I trailed off as we turned into his small den of an office.  He wasn’t lying when he claimed his office to be unkempt.  A small suitcase sat open on the chair in the corner with a pair of slacks hanging out of it.  Dust covered a line of thick books on an old bookshelf.  There were a few pictures of smiling children and a beautiful woman.  A plaque hung on the wall next to a framed certificate.  A mess of papers seemed to take life on what I assumed to be his desk, claiming stake to the entire surface and over flowing out of plastic black trays.

“Uh, have a seat.”  He pointed at the single chair facing his desk as he made his way around the other side and plopped into an exceptionally noisy chair, leaning back a little.  “What brings you here today?”

What a loaded question.  The things I could tell him, but I had to be sure he was willing to walk into the mess before I really opened up my mouth.  I could see by the way he was looking at me that he was already trying to figure me out.  That was probably one of the most important traits to have in his line of work; intuition.  “Well, I’ve got a proposition for you.” I said, clearing my throat.  “I, um, I’ve found myself in a bit of trouble that I’d like to get out of but I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

Mr. Noel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk top.  “What kind of trouble?”

I sighed, looking down into my lap.  “That’s the thing.  I can’t really tell you, not until you agree to help me.  Someone could be following me.  Someone has been following me and listening to my phone calls and monitoring my email, which is why I couldn’t set up an appointment.  I think I was able to get here without a shadow,  but I just don’t know.  I don’t want to tell you anything in case they know I’m here.  I don’t want you to get into any trouble because of me.”

This seemed to spike Mr. Noel’s interest.  He puckered his full lips and inhaled deeply before looking at me again.  “Can you at least give me an idea of what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

“It’s my husband.  He’s a very wealthy and powerful man.”

“Mr. White?”  He said with an undertone that signaled to me he knew I’d supplied him with a fake name.

“He owns a business and a small private airline,” I continued, ignoring his jab.  “He’s got friends in high places and in the lowest of places.  He’s the reason I couldn’t call you.  He’s the reason why my email is being monitored.  I found out he’s got some shady dealings and that’s not even the right word.  I found out and I tried to leave him, but he threatened my family.  He threatened to blackmail me and make it look like I was a part of the whole operation all along, which I don’t doubt he has the power to do.  Ever since I stumbled onto the whole thing, he’s had a man taking me to and from work.  He’s had my phone tapped.  He’s monitored my spending.  I can’t breathe anymore.  He won’t let me leave.  I can’t divorce him.  I’m trapped and I need to find a way out, but with the amount of eyes and ears I have on me, I don’t know how to even start.”

Mr. Noel leaned back in his chair, rocking nosily.  “What are you trying to get out of this?  You want to disappear?  You want to get divorced without the consequences?”

“Actually, I want to put a stop to it.  I want to make sure he pays for what he’s done and to put the whole thing to an end.  I need to find a way to bring down the operation without getting myself in trouble.”

“Is this about money?”

I shook my head.  “I’ve got a good job, a really good job.  I don’t necessarily need him to survive, financially that is.  Plus I have a lot to lose, which keeps me in this predicament.  I’ve worked too hard to get where I am and it’s selfish of me to say it but I can’t,” I sighed.  “I can’t compromise it.”

“How old are you?”

I studied him for a second as if I could see him piecing the puzzle together mentally.  “I’m 28.”

“How long have you been married?”

“A little over four years.  My husband and I have been together for almost seven.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

I shook my head.  “As much trouble as I could be in for being here, I can only imagine what he’d do to you.  Unless you’re willing to take on my case, I can’t give you much more information.  It’s in your best interest, I assure you.”

“What kind of trouble would you be in?  Does he get physical with you?”

I felt my chin tremble, but I swallowed that down.  “He has, yes.  You see, he has much, much more to lose than I do.  At this point, despite his declared love for me, he’s desperate to keep his secret safe and is forced to do things he wouldn’t normally do to protect it.”

“Sounds like you’re defending him.”

I paused for a long moment, trying to pinpoint my exact reasons for protecting his actions.  “You asked me my age.  I’ve never given my age to anyone so easily.  My husband and I have quite an age gap and for that reason I’ve always shied away from that question, afraid people would judge me, call me a gold-digger or a trophy wife.  I’m none of those things.  Like I told you a minute ago, I could do fine off my own income.  The money, the cars, the clothes, the luxury, it was all a perk of being with the man I was so blindly and irrevocably in love with.  I was so young when I met him.  You know what that’s like, don’t you?”

I turned and looked at the photo of the picturesque family on his bookshelf.  His gaze followed mine before I turned back to face him.  “You have a family.  You know what that feeling is to love someone so much that you can’t think straight.  You lose words and your breath and suddenly the world starts to orbit around them.  You don’t see yourself in any other place than in their arms or by their side.  I still want all of those things, but I can’t, not with what I know.  I’m still under his spell and I don’t want to be anymore.  And it’s that spell that drives me to defend him, unconsciously more than anything. “

“You’re right, I do know that feeling,” Mr. Noel started.  “I’ve been married almost 20 years now.  I used to have that feeling the way you described.  Not so much now, which doesn’t mean I don’t love my wife.  Just means it fades over time.  You get older, fatter, more comfortable until one day you look at her, see her smile the way she used to when we were younger and it all comes back to you.”

“I wish I could hate him with my whole heart.  I wish I could erase it all, knowing now this is what it’s come to.”

“He must have done a number on you.”

He and I peered into each other’s eyes for a long silent moment.  “Are you going to help me?”

“How much homework have you done on my services?”

“Well, I’ve read up on professional investigators before.  I know there are different areas of specialty.   I know you’re not a police officer so technically you can’t arrest anyone or obtain financial documents, but you can tap or search for other documents, right?  You can find a paper trail somewhere to prove he’s guilty and not me.”

Mr. Noel shrugged.  “Well maybe.  If your husband is really as powerful as you claim, if you were with him for so many years without knowing, that could make it harder and in this day and age, paper trails sometimes don’t even exist.”

“Data trails?  Emails, text messages, can you get into his PC?  I’m fairly certain he has a separate computer for all that stuff.  What if I could get a hold of it?”

At this, the man raised his brows playfully.  “That would be a good start.  Are you saying you have it?”  He gestured to my bag, the handle of which I was clutching tightly.

“No, but I think I could get it if you think it would help.”

“It certainly wouldn’t hurt, not unless you get caught, right?  You might be concerned about my safety, which you probably don’t need to be, but I’m concerned about yours.  If I’m going to work with you, you’ve got to understand a few things.  I am obligated by law, and by my own morals, to report any illegal activities you may or may not decide to make yourself a part of in an effort to frame your husband, if that is in fact what you’re trying to accomplish.  I will not perform any illegal activities for you, which includes assault, impersonation, making or claiming fraudulent statements, or aiding and abetting.  This also means if I think your safety is threatened or jeopardized, I’ll have to involve the police.”

I sat for a long moment, holding on to his last few words.  I swallowed hard.  What if we get so close in an investigation and Mr. Noel sees a bruise?  He could ruin everything.  I can take a few slaps and punches if I get the chance to nail his ass to the wall.  It was too risky.

I nodded firmly and then stood from my seat.  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Noel.”  I mumbled, heading for the door.

“Wait, hold on.” Even with my back turned, I could tell he had stood up, thanks to the cackling symphony his office chair played.  “Just, come back.  Have a seat.  We can work this out.”

Hesitantly, I turned back.  “This isn’t going to be easy, I know that much,” I said, stopping short of the chair.  “But once we get started, there’s no way for us to just stop.  We have to commit.  I can’t have you backing out just because I turn up one day with a fat lip or a black eye.  I’m willing,” I paused.  “I’m willing to tough it out if it means our hard work will pay off.  I have to trust that you’ll do the same or I walk now.”

Mr. Noel shook his head, shifting his weight.  “This isn’t how I do things.”

I shrugged.  “That’s fine.  Do you know someone who can help me?”

 Again, we had an epic stare down, Mr. Noel’s eyes much heavier than mine.  He was hunched over the desk, leaning on his fisted hands.  I could see I’d put him in a predicament.  He exhaled heavily, letting a low quake grumble in his throat.  Pushing himself upward abruptly, Mr. Noel strode over to me.  “You know, I don’t much care for what I’m about to do, but I can’t let you walk out of here.  I can’t have you on my conscience.  I’ll play by your rules, but you better follow mine and that’s not a request.”

He held out his hand again.  We shook on it, neither of us cracking a victory smirk.  “Now, you gonna tell me your real name?”

“Olivia,” I mumbled.  “Olivia Reinbeck.  Thank you for your help, Mr. Noel.”

“Please, call me Conrad.”  He sighed heavily.  “Now I think you have some explaining to do.”

I nodded firmly.  “Yes, quite a bit actually.” 

I got started telling Conrad the whole twisted story.  He didn’t flinch at any detail.  He sat stoic and unaffected as if his line of work pointed him down these types of heinous paths more often than not.  “I haven’t figured out how it all works, but I have a good idea.  I found these brochures,” I dug the pamphlets out of my bag.  “They lure girls in this way, promising an education, a home, a future.  They’re in different languages so they target a number of different countries.  They trick them into giving away all their information, handing over their passports and then they put them into this business.”

Conrad sifted through the papers daintily with his monstrous mitts.  “Is this what set you off to begin with?”

I nodded.  “I looked up the organization online.  Their web page has the exact same information as the pamphlet.  The school is real.  It’s in London.  There are pictures and courses listed online and testimonials.  I think he must have an agreement with the school or something, I don’t know.  Maybe they don’t even know he’s doing this; using their institution as false advertising.”

“And from here, you started becoming more suspicious of him.”

I nodded again.  “He has this safe in his office that I'd never seen into before.  I never had any reason to.  I think his assistant, Red, was in there and hadn't secured it before he left.  It was open, I went in there and found all emails he’d printed, the passports, the videos I was telling you about, it was all in there.  I’m certain he’s either moved all of it or torched it by now.”