Sorcerer (7 page)

“So what do you want me to do?”

“You’re to find this man and convince him that it’s in his best interest to live up to his end of our business deal.”

“If you and your people can’t find him, how am I supposed to?”

Hope stared at him dully.  “I never said we couldn’t find him.”

Jeff sighed, stomach churning.  “What’s the deal you had with him?”

“That’s between us.”  A bright chalky smile returned to his face.  “Professional discretion, you understand.”

“Mr. Hope, how am I supposed to convince him to do something if I have no idea what it is he’s supposed to do?”

“
He
 knows, Jeff.  Your job is to simply convince him to come to me and do the right thing.  To reopen our talks so that we can resolve these matters quickly and efficiently.”

“Sounds like something you’d be more than capable of handling yourself.”

“It is, but he’s refused to return my attempts to contact him.  So this is a perfect first assignment for my newest negotiator.”

“OK, then how do
I
 find him?”

Foster Hope nodded rather formally, as if to agree that the initial phase of their conversation had ended and it was time to move on to other things.  He placed the envelope on the table and slid it over to Jeff.  “Inside you will find information containing the man’s name, his wife’s name and their last known address.  Far as we know the wife still lives there.  He may as well but we can’t be sure at this point.  Inside the envelope you’ll also find a private telephone number where I can be reached once the job has been completed, successfully or otherwise.  You will call me at that number, you will be paid immediately thereafter and then we will both make our decisions regarding your future here.”

Jeff left the envelope where it was.  “And what if I can’t find this guy, much less convince him to contact you?”

“Then you fail.  But I believe that if you use your intelligence, instincts and skills as a salesman, you’ll be able to persuade him to do the right thing, the
honorable
 thing.”  He carefully combed a renegade strand of snow-white hair back from his forehead with a finger.  “In all honesty, this is an easy assignment compared to most.  Don’t want to give you too tall an order right out of the gates, especially without any formal negotiator training.”  

“And I do this alone?”

“I am many things, Jeff.  A fool is not one of them.  Of course you’ll be
observed
, but you will work alone.”  He arched an eyebrow.  “Unless you feel you need supervision, in which case, I’d be more than happy to have Ms. Bell accompany you.”

Jeff felt his face flush.  “No, I…”

“I thought not,” Hope said, laughing lightly.  “This entire matter shouldn’t take more than a day to accomplish, so I want you to begin work tomorrow.”

“Why not right away?”

“Tomorrow morning.  No sooner.”

Don’t argue.  Agree to the conditions and get the hell out of here
.  “OK.”

“But I’ll expect to hear from you no later than tomorrow evening.”

Nodding, Jeff picked up the envelope.

“Any longer than that and I’ll have no choice but to assume something’s gone wrong, and then I’ll have to come looking for you.”  The old man was no longer laughing, his eyes no longer sparkling.  “And you don’t want that, Jeff, do you understand?”

“Yes,” he answered tensely, “I do.”

“Then I look forward to hearing from you.  Until then, good day to you.”

Hardly.

-8-

At nightfall the city was still unbearably hot.  After dinner Jeff collapsed into his favorite recliner and attempted to watch a baseball game but was unable to concentrate.  The conversation he’d had with Mr. Hope replayed again and again in his mind, and although the entire scenario seemed fantastic at best, he realized all too well just how real this situation was.  Clearly there was an illegal, underhanded and dangerous aspect to this whole thing, but if the pay was in cash, no one would know and he could walk away once he was done, he had no choice but to take the risk.  What was the alternative?  Letting his wife see him in that hotel room with Jessica?

He knew he’d been infuriatingly aloof since Eden had gotten home from work, but he couldn’t talk to her about what was taking place.  The only way for her to remain safe was to know nothing about any of this.  

She wandered in from the bedroom wearing only a long t-shirt.  “You OK?”

“I’m fine, honey.”  
God
how I love her
, he thought.
 What the hell was I thinking?
  The guilt was so strong he couldn’t even look at her.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just a little tired.”

“When I left for work this morning everything was great, but since I got home you’ve barely spoken to me and you’re moping around like you got some bad news or something.  Is there a problem with the new job?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“You’re not acting like everything’s—”

“I just said everything’s fine, didn’t I?”

“Then why are you in such a
lovely
 mood?”

“I’m sorry, I…”  He forced a smile, aimed the remote at the TV and switched it off.  “I told you, I’m just a little tired, OK?  No biggie.  Everything’s fine with the new job and everything else.  I love you.”

“Love you, too.”  She sighed, and then as if she’d just remembered, jerked a thumb at the window and said, “Hey, he’s not out there tonight.”

Jeff’s mind was so far away it took him a moment to realize who she was talking about.  “I had a chat with him.  I doubt he’ll be coming around anymore.”

Eden sat on the edge of the recliner.  “What did you say to him?”

“I told him to stay the hell away from us and the building.”

“Jesus, Jeff.”  She scooped up a magazine from the coffee table and began fanning herself with it.  “That’s awfully severe, don’t you think?”

“Who gives a shit?  He’s a bum, for Christ’s sake.”

“Oh how charming.”  Eden tossed the magazine aside.  “So warm and kind, you know?  Why do you have to be so cruel to him?”

“What the hell is it with you and this guy?”

“What are you talking about?”

Jeff stood up.  “Why are you so interested in him?  It’s constant.”

She watched him a moment then began to laugh.  “Are you
jealous
?”

“What is your fascination with him?”  She balked, but he could tell he’d hit a nerve.  “There are lots of homeless people in the city, why is
he
 so special?”

“I’m a compassionate person, sorry if that offends you.”

“No, there’s more to it and you know it.”

“Oh no, you found out!” she said, eyes wide.  “We’re fuck buddies!”

“You think this shit’s funny?”

“Yeah,” she said, laughing again, “I do, actually.”

He waved her off.  “OK, whatever, no sense in discussing it then.”

  “I don’t know what your problem is tonight,” she said, “but I find deliberate cruelty revolting.  Especially in someone I love.  I’m going to bed.  Goodnight.”

“Wait, I—look, I don’t mean to be cruel, OK?  I’m sorry, you know I’m not really like that, it—it’s just that I’ve got other things to worry about right now.  I’m focused on
us
, on
our
life.  I’ve been under a lot of stress lately and—”

Someone in the lobby downstairs buzzed their apartment.  With Jeff following close behind, fearful it might be Hope or one of his associates, Eden went to the intercom just inside the front door and pressed the button.  “Yes?”

“Eden!” a man’s frantic voice answered.  “Let me in!  Please, let me in!”

“I’ll be a sonofabitch.” Jeff recognized the voice immediately.  “You have
got
 to be kidding me.”

“Please Eden!  You can help me, please—
please
—help me, let me in!”

She glanced guiltily at Jeff, unsure of what to say.

“Please!  Let me in!  I don’t belong out here!”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.  “I can’t.”

When the intercom fell silent, Jeff ran for the bedroom and looked out the window.  The homeless man had already begun to drift down the street, looking back over his shoulder at the apartment every few steps.

When Jeff turned from the window he found Eden standing behind him in the doorway.  “How the hell does he know your name?”

She sat at the foot of the bed, hands in her lap.  “When I left for work this morning he was out on the steps.  He told me his name was Ernie Graham, so I told him my name too, all right?”

“No, it’s not all right.  Are you insane?”

“I can’t believe you’re acting like this.  It’s ridiculous.”

“Not gonna argue that one with you.  The guy just buzzed our apartment and expected you to let him in.  If that doesn’t qualify as ridiculous nothing does.”

“I said
no
 didn’t I?”

“Eden, listen to me.  We know nothing about this man.  He could have a criminal record, he could be dangerous.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, I’m familiar with English.  Stop talking to me like I’m a child.”

Jeff steadied himself.  
Breathe
…
stay calm
…  “I know you mean well and you’re only trying to be kind, OK?  I get it.  But you don’t make friends with deranged homeless guys that live on the front steps of the building.”

“He’s not deranged.”

“How do you know?”

“OK, I admit I have sort of a soft spot for him.”  She threw her arms in the air.  “He just—I don’t know what it is—I know it sounds crazy but it’s almost like I know him somehow.  For some reason I feel
especially
 sorry for him.  Maybe it’s some sort of spiritual connection, or a higher power is trying to tell me something, who knows?”

He stared at her, mouth gaping.

“He’s just a lost soul, Jeff, not a serial killer.”

“This isn’t like feeding a stray cat, Eden.  It’s a little more complicated.”

“Have you ever actually spoken with him?  Not spoken
at
him, not
threatened
 him, but actually spoken with him like you would anyone else?”

“What’s your point?”

“He’s down and out and hurting.  Look around the city.  The homeless are everywhere, just like you said.  But have you really
seen
them?  A lot are women and children.  Are they all deranged, too?  Are they all criminals?  They’re just people that have fallen on hard times.  If you hadn’t gotten that job we eventually would’ve ended up out there with them.  Are we criminals?  Are we scum?  Are we deranged?  All Ernie’s looking for is a little compassion and understanding, enough to let him know he still matters and that at least
some
 of us care about him and others out there like him.”

“Well it’s good to know that’s all
Ernie’s
 looking for.  I love it, my wife and the bum that lives on our street are on a first-name basis.”

“I had a civil conversation with him that lasted all of a minute.”

“During which you told him your name and apparently our apartment number.  Was there any other personal information you felt compelled to share with your new best bud?”

“If because of my kindness he took it upon himself to buzz the apartment that’s not my fault.  It’s probably not even his.  We have no idea what it’s like to be out on those streets night after night.  We have no idea what that man’s been through.  Maybe he broke down.  Maybe he just wanted to spend one night indoors and was making a crazy plea to—”

“There are shelters in the city, let him go to one of those.”

“For his sake I hope he finds one with a free bed.”

“Well if not we can always put good ole Ernie up on the couch, right?”

Glaring at him, she yanked the sheet back from the bed with an angry tug and fired a pillow at him.  “Nope, you’ll already be on it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Goodnight Jeff.”

Pillow clutched to his chest, he returned to the den and flopped onto the couch.  “Yeah,” he mumbled, “like I need this shit tonight.”

Fine
, he thought.  Bright and early tomorrow morning he’d get this job done, get paid, make it right with Eden and put this nightmare behind him.

There are no nightmares
.  

Jeff closed his eyes, but it failed to silence the whispers from his dreams.

There is only the torment of darkness
.

-9-

The following morning, Jeff hailed a cab.  He didn’t know what to expect and didn’t want his car to be identified later if something went wrong.  The address scrawled on a small sheet of paper inside the envelope listed an address located in a rough neighborhood in Chelsea, a small city just outside Boston located on the far side of the Mystic River.  It also listed the name of the man in Mr. Hope’s debt: Stephen Wychek.  Jeff had been through Chelsea but knew no one there and was unfamiliar with the layout.  Thankfully the driver was able to find the address, a rundown two-story tenement on a relatively quiet street.  But even in daylight, the area looked somewhat threatening.  “Wait for me,” he told the cabbie.  “Keep the meter running, I’ll only be a few minutes.”

As Jeff stepped out of the taxi and approached the tenement steps he saw a faded lace curtain move in one of the windows facing the street.  He hesitated, looked around.  But for a lone elderly woman carrying a bag of groceries farther down the block, the street was empty.  He continued up the steps to the front door, opened it and slipped into a foyer.  The walls were cracked, the paint chipped and peeling, and a repugnant odor he couldn’t identify hung in the air.  

He glanced down at the paper.  Alongside the address were the words:
First floor
.  Jeff knocked.  No one answered, but he could hear movement inside the apartment, so he knocked again.  After a moment, a shuffling sound indicated someone had moved up closer to the door.

“Hello?” he said, leaning closer.  “Hello?”

From behind the door came a female voice; nervous and muffled.  “What do you want?”

“I need to speak to Mr. Wychek.”

“He’s not here.”