Tales from an Unknown Corner

CHAPTER – 34: Demons

The narrow footpath was irregular, and covered by overgrowth, suggesting it had not been used for a very long time. The pale light of a half moon didn’t provide much illumination, and the slowly drifting clouds kept covering up the moon for extended periods. The woods around me were filled with the sounds of night creatures, alive with activity, and I kept listening for any changes in my immediate vicinity. I continued towards my destination at a steady but slow pace, taking care not to disturb anything. I was a silent ghost in the darkness, a predator among the nocturnal creatures; the nearby birds and bugs kept singing their tunes, taking no notice of my passage.

When I neared my destination I left the pathway, moving into the woods, and continued on my slow trek, the gentle slope taking on a steeper angle. At the edge of the woods, I hid in the shrubbery, and looked for signs of life. There was a small clearing between the woods and my target, devoid of any cover I could use for my approach.

When the moon cleared the clouds for a short while, I took in the structure. It was a bland, two story high stone building, without any distinguishing features. The wooden door looked to be sturdy, but it was half open; beyond it nothing but darkness. The windows were very small, with thick wooden shutters. It looked abandoned or empty, but every time I looked at it, I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck. There was something in there. I just didn’t know what it was.

Doing a short reconnaissance using the cover of the shrubbery, I could find no entry points except the door. I could, of course, try the windows, but they could prove to be lethal traps. Checking the clouds, I decided to wait until the half moon was covered; the darkness would be my only cover when I made my move. Using the night vision binoculars, I tried to get a view into the building, to see what lay beyond the half open door. I couldn’t see much, except that there were no obstructions such as furniture that would cause any problems when I rushed in through the door. Then, I took in the landscape carefully, memorizing the lay of the ground. Satisfied with the mental map, I sat down and closed my eyes, to regain my night vision and prepare myself for whatever I would be facing in there, waiting for the clouds to cover the moon.

A while later, I opened my eyes. It was dark, but not as dark as I would have liked it to be. Hiding my bag with the binoculars and other paraphernalia in the bush, I stood up and put my katana on my back, tightening the straps of the scabbard. Quietly, I moved along the edge of the woods, until I was facing the half open door at an angle. The frame was blocking my view of the edge of the door. If somebody was watching from inside, behind the door, he would have to lean to see my approach. On the other hand, I couldn’t see into the building. All things considered, I was at a distinct disadvantage, as I didn’t know as much as I would like to about the lay of the battlefield, what was waiting for me, what traps lay in store.

I approached the open door, at a crouch, moving as silently as possible. At a distance of thirty yards to the door, I stopped and listened, while checking the cloud cover. My timing had been correct; a thicker layer of clouds was moving across the moon, covering it completely, and suppressing what little light there had been. The next phase was the dangerous part.

Rising to my feet, I ran at a fast but quiet pace, angling towards the gap between the door and the frame in the last few steps of my approach. Just before clearing the door, I leapt in a dive, tucking my knees to my chest, and shot past the opening like a ball. When I hit the floor, I kept rolling. Quickly arresting my movement in a crouch, I changed direction and moved laterally, so that I wouldn’t be an easy target. The whole sequence had not taken more than a few seconds, but they had felt like an eternity. I expected the burning pain of the cut from a blade or an arrow embedding itself on my flesh at any moment. I kept moving very slowly, while listening, and scanning my immediate vicinity for any threats. Once I ascertained there was no immediate danger, I stopped and took stock of my situation.

A quick exploration told me I was in a large room with little furniture; one table with a broken leg, and two chairs just behind the door. At the back of the room there were stairs going upstairs, but there was no light or sound coming from that direction. As I moved along the wall, towards the far left of the room, still exploring, I picked up the smell of burned oil and wax. Feeling along the walls opposite to the door I kept moving until I came across a recess, which turned out to be stone steps going down to some sort of basement.

Cautiously I made my way down, the stairs curving gently to the left. By the time I was half way down, the smell was getting more distinct, and there seemed to be a bit of light further ahead. When I reached the end of the stairs, I found myself staring at a narrow corridor. At the end it, there was a sharp bend to the left, where I could discern a flicker of very faint light. As I moved along I had the first warning signs of danger; ants crawling along my spine. Slowly I pulled my katana from its scabbard; the sound of the blade clearing its sheath loud in the dead quiet of the narrow passageway.

It took me a long time to reach the end of the passageway, as I proceeded at a crawling pace, checking the walls, and the floor for possible traps. When I reached the end of it, the smell of burned wax and oil was almost cloying. Taking a quick peek, I saw that the passageway extended a few paces before it took another sharp bend to the left, and the flickering light seemed to be coming from further away, possibly from candles or oil lanterns—if the smell was any indication.

Before moving further, I mentally checked the path I had taken, trying to figure out where I was. I had completed around 200 degrees of turn, relative to the stairs. Getting my bearings, I continued along, until I arrived at the sharp bend, and took a quick peek. The corridor extended several paces and curved right after that, and the light was stronger.

As I made my way, I had an image of myself as a mouse in a maze, but quickly chased the thought away and concentrated on my task. The sense of danger grew as I got closer to the bend. When I reached the bend, a quick glance revealed the passageway to be a short span of approximately ten paces, leading to a large and well-illuminated room, its wooden door completely open. Seeing no sign of life, I kept watching and listening, but I couldn’t see any threats.

With my eyes on the open door, I made my way at a crouch, feeling around for any traps, all my senses screaming danger. Quickly clamping on them, I continued. When I was almost half way, I heard a faint noise. Closing my eyes, I listened, trying to discern its nature. It sounded like a moan or whimper, definitely human.

Standing up, I put my back against the wall, leading with my left hand and foot, feeling the wall and the floor. The katana was in my right hand, held straight, tucked along the back of my arm, the tip pointing upwards, and the hilt pointing down, as if it was a long knife. I continued at a crawling pace, getting a better view of the room with each step.

I had already determined the source of the sound, before I reached the door. It was coming from somewhere on the left side of the room, behind the door, and sounded female. Unfortunately the door was blocking my view. I had a better angle into the right side of the room, and kept moving cautiously. The room had a high ceiling, and from what I could see, there was a raised platform on the right side that ran the whole width of the room, with wooden boxes stacked on top of each other, and a small door. Below the platform there was a small table and a chair, but I couldn’t see more into the right side without stepping into the room.

As I moved to the opposite wall, and checked the left side, I could only see a small portion of the room. There were shackles and chains on the wall, and based on the sound, I realized somebody was being kept prisoner, shackled to the wall, my view blocked by the heavy wooden door. The air inside was musty, and smelled heavily of burned oil and wax.

Despite the acute sense of danger, I stepped inside, quickly moving in a circle, and scanned for any threats, ready to face whatever danger that was awaiting me, until... Until my eyes caught sight of the prisoner... correction, prisoners!

Chained along the left wall in a row were Dana, Sarah, and Reina. Before I could even comprehend what I was seeing, I was on a dive to my right, rolling on the floor, and something whizzed passed my head, hitting the wall with a clung. Bouncing off the wall, it clattered on the stone floor with a metallic sound. Finishing my roll quickly, I sprang to my feet, and turned to face my adversary; my katana held in ‘middle attitude.’

It was a carefully arranged trap. Wandering in the darkness ready for combat, the feeling of danger compounded by the adrenalin pumping furiously in my veins, only to find my loved ones shackled to the wall as prisoners. Whoever he was, he knew how I would react to seeing them like that, the momentary shock giving him the opportunity to launch his unexpected attack. And, he would have succeeded, if my instincts had not kicked in in time.

He was dressed in the traditional hakama, standing in the upper platform next to the wooden boxes—his hiding place—wearing a helmet and facemask. His katana was seated in the saya (scabbard) he held in his left hand. His right hand was resting on the tsuka (hilt) of his katana. From the metallic sound, I knew he had used a small blade, something like a shiruken that he probably had hidden within the folds of his obi.

With a casual attitude, he jumped down from the platform, landing on his feet, while I deflected a second projectile with the blade of my katana. He had flicked the shiruken almost imperceptibly; his right arm moving from left to right in a natural manner, to keep his balance during the jump. It was the sharp wrist action as he moved his arm that gave away his attack, but the manner his right hand was resting on the hilt of his sword instead of gripping it had been a subconscious trigger, warning me something was not right.

He was proving himself to be a tricky and a very dangerous foe. As I tried to prepare myself mentally for the confrontation, I couldn’t help but wonder about his sword skills. I had a nagging feeling that I might be facing somebody who was more skilled than I was. Before I could chase the thought away, and clear my mind, he flicked another small blade, but this time he didn’t even resort to any trickery. Why should he? I wasn’t the target, as confirmed by a sharp scream from one of the girls.

I knew the bastard was trying to put me off balance, and he was succeeding. It took all my training to clamp hard on my feelings, but it was very difficult not to worry about the welfare of the girls. I knew I had to ignore such distractions. Against my better judgment, I quickly moved between him and the girls, to prevent any further attacks, even though I knew I was letting him dictate the terms of this engagement.

Remembering the words of my sensei, I controlled my breathing, seeking the Void, as my eyes took him in. Drawing his sword, he got ready, as I slowly started to immerse myself in the nothingness of the Void.

The attack came like lightening, and our blades clashed in a blur, before we disengaged. The next several minutes were spent probing and testing each other, and to my dismay I found I was having difficulty sinking into the Void. Time after time he attacked, and I barely managed to keep him at bay. As we circled each other, I knew he was playing with me like a cat plays with a mouse. With a sinking feeling I realized I hadn’t yet seen the full scale of his skills. It was straight out of Musashi’s book; ‘Holding Down a Pillow’, leading me about.

He attacked again, his speed and strength feeling almost inhuman, and I fell back, barely managing to parry. I felt a sharp, burning pain on my left arm, then the trickle of something wet. When my eyes caught sight of his blade, it was streaked with blood. My blood! He came at me again and I staggered back under the ferocity of his attack, getting slashed again, this time on my right thigh. He didn’t let up. As he pressed his attacks I felt myself growing tired, hardly able to defend myself, and each time he drew blood.

My fingers felt numb, my grip on the hilt weakening as I tried to parry. I was panting with the effort, feeling light headed from lack of oxygen. Disengaging, he stood back, watching me, as if telling me something.

I took a step back, as the realization of defeat started to settle in. I tried to gather myself, but... this was it... the end! I knew it, and he knew it. He stood stock still, almost mocking me, filling the room with his presence. It was the last blow, ‘Penetrating the Depths’; not only crushing the enemy but destroying his spirit. I lowered my sword, and turned half way towards the girls to take one last look at them, uttering a silent “I’m sorry!”

My eyes took them in one by one, shackled against the wall, in chains, and helpless. Reina and Sarah seemed to be unconscious, hanging by their wrists, and Dana was semi-conscious, moaning; her shirt was soaked in blood from the small wound where the small blade protruded from her shoulder. The image filled me with anger, turning into a burning fury. How could I let go so easily, when they were hanging there, helpless, with nobody to protect them?

Dragging the anger up from the depths of my belly, I felt its heat. Then, my training kicked in, and took control of it. I shaped it as if it was putty in my hands, and channeled it to every muscle and nerve ending. As it washed all over me like a cool breeze on a summer evening, calming me down, I readied myself to face my enemy, one more time, perhaps the final time. Hanging my head in defeat, I closed my eyes, and waited for his attack, completely at peace. I didn’t have to wait too long. As soon as he saw me close my eyes, he came at me. And in a blur, I cut from right to left. Only to feel my sword being swept aside. Then, I felt a searing heat... and a burning agony that consumed me briefly, leaving me breathless... before it gave way to numbness.

I heard the sound of something heavy clattering to the floor, and when I opened my eyes, I saw a sword on the floor with a severed hand still gripping its hilt. I didn’t comprehend what had happened. As my eyes swept up, I noticed the blood spurting from the end of my wrist... Before the comprehension hit me, a strange noise like the buzz of an angry bee filled the air. I looked up trying to locate the source, and for a split second I caught a flash...

I came awake with a lurch, breathless. A scream lodged at the back of my throat never made it out. The darkness of the room, the lack of air completed the terror I felt, as I struggled helplessly to get some air into my lungs. My mouth was dry, and my heart was beating like a rock band drummer gone mad. I felt disoriented, unable to figure where I was. I was panting and gasping for air, thrashing and trembling. All my muscles were knotted, in the grip of a fear the likes of which I had never known... until I realized I was in my room, in my bed. It had all been a nightmare.

Slowly I managed to get my breathing under control. My heartbeat was still fast, the result of fear and the adrenalin, but it didn’t feel like it would burst out of my chest. A few minutes later, I was feeling much calmer, but extremely tired from the experience, tremors running through my body. I wanted to sit up, but couldn’t muster the energy or the will, and I was shivering, feeling very cold. When I ran my hand over my chest, I realized I was bathed in sweat, the cold air in the room chilling me. I tried to cover myself to warm up, but I couldn’t find the sheet or the blanket. Giving it up, I tried to gather my energy, still shivering involuntarily.

Finally, I managed to sit up, and put on the light. The blanket and the sheet were on the floor. I must have been thrashing wildly in the bed, and kicked off the covers. Leaning down, I grabbed them and covered myself to warm up a bit. Closing my eyes, I rested for a while, to gather my strength and warm my cold body. My mind was busy trying to come to terms with the nightmare and the terror I felt. I had a metallic taste in my mouth.

Jeeez! I’ve never had a nightmare like that! What the hell was that?

What time is it?

I checked my watch; it read 3:52—‘witching hour’ I said inwardly. Putting my watch on the nightstand, I swung my legs on the side of the bed. I wanted to clean up, and perhaps have a drink of something. Carefully testing my legs, I stood up, and went to the bathroom. I didn’t want to wake up Kathy and Mark, so instead of a shower, I wiped the sweat off my body with a warm washcloth, and dried myself. Relieving myself, I went back to my room, and put on a shirt and my jeans. In the living room I looked for something to drink. Locating a bottle of vodka in the bar, I filled up a small glass. In the kitchen, I put on the small light by the stove, and got some ice from the fridge. Back at the living room, I put out the lights, and opening the curtains, sat by the window, watching outside. It was dark enough in the living room; the little light from the kitchen supplying very little indirect illumination, so I could see outside in addition to the faint reflection of myself on the window. After a few gulps of the vodka, I lit a cigarette, my insides feeling warm, and my frayed nerves finally settling down. Early on, I had been anxious about having a nightmare, but I hadn’t expected the kind of nightmare I had just had.

Shit! Give me a visit from Rei anytime. I could live with the hurt and the pain, but this... Where the hell did that come from?

It’s good that I was sleeping alone. If I had been with Sarah...

I didn’t want to think about that. It would have scared the hell out of her. Then my thoughts went to Kathy. I had been lucky. Because Mark was staying here tonight, both our bedroom doors were closed. At other times, our doors stayed either open or slightly ajar. It was something from our childhood, from our parents. Mom didn’t like closed doors, and drilled into us we could keep our doors slightly ajar, but never closed, if we wanted privacy. And visitors were supposed to knock and wait for an invitation, not barge in. However, their bedroom door stayed closed when they were engaged—as we later came to learn what engaged meant. The other exception was the bathroom. We could close the door, but were not allowed to lock it. Putting on the light was enough warning that it was occupied, since there was a small frosted glass in the door.

As the thoughts ran through my mind, I was remembering the earlier years, and the short discussion I had had with Mom, asking her about the rules, especially about the bathroom. Of course, at the time Mom knew, to my ultimate horror, why I had asked that particular question. My hormones were raging, and I was spending some leisure time in the bathroom, instead of in my room. I thought that she wouldn’t suspect anything, if I kept my bedroom door open all the time. And I could keep the bathroom door closed, which offered more privacy than a slightly ajar bedroom door.

She told me a story of how she had lost a friend when she was young, due to an accident with the gas boiler. Her friend was taking a bath, and when she shut off the hot water after filling the bathtub, the pilot flame in the boiler went out, but the gas hadn’t shut off automatically, and slowly filled up the bathroom while she fell asleep. She had the door locked, and her parents didn’t realize something was wrong until very late. When they had tried to get in they had to break the door, losing precious time. After the story, she told me I shouldn’t worry about somebody walking in on me, when I was busy in the bathroom. Seeing me color up, she smiled softly, patting my hand, and said, “Nothing to be ashamed off. You’re growing up.”

It was one of the most embarrassing times I had had with Mom, even though we talked about all kinds of things. She had always been cool and when we talked she would talk to me as if she was one of the guys. But somehow, I always felt a discomfort when the subject was sex, never managing to overcome my shyness—that is, until I grew older, but then, we didn’t talk much about the subject in those later years.

As I thought about that particular memory, I couldn’t help but chuckle at another embarrassing one; the time when she had come across my secret stash of Playboys... After the discovery, she had left them in their hiding place, but stacked them neatly, sorted by date!

God! That had really been embarrassing!

For several days, she would look at me with a mischievous look in her eyes, and smile knowingly, and I would color up. Thinking back on those days, I realized Dad must have been in on it too, because after receiving a strange look from Dad—which I barely caught—Mom had immediately stopped teasing me. Now, I knew what his look meant: “Leave the kid alone, will you?”

I took a long drag from my cigarette, and let it out slowly, relaxing at the fond memories. At the tip of my tongue was a phrase I had heard used many times at the rig site: ‘in the good old days!’ I almost laughed out loud at my choice of that particular phrase in reference to my teenage years, considering I was only 25 years old. What’s more, I still remembered what Manfred ‘Pops’ Reinhard—the German driller—had told me. During one of our rare get togethers, he offered me an alternate explanation of the phrase over a glass of whisky, with his usual dry sense of humor.

“Listen, sonny. We always talk about ‘in the good old days,’ but to tell the truth, we weren’t that old, and we weren’t being good,” he said. Then leaning forward, he put his big hand on my shoulder, and giving me a pointed look, he added, “And as God is my witness, I surely wasn’t talking about the days!”

When I started to laugh, he slapped my shoulder hard, and joined in with a rumbling, hearty laughter. Clinking our glasses, we drank to the ‘good old days!’

A faint noise distracted me, and putting my cigarette in the ashtray, I tried to get a glimpse of what might have caused it from the faint reflection on the window. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see anything, but I felt a presence and tuned into it, readying myself for any eventuality.

“Mitch, is that you?” came a soft voice from the door.

It was Mark, and I let myself release the tension I felt, and slowly turned to face him.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

He walked in to the living room, dressed only in boxer shorts, and in the faint light coming from the kitchen, I saw he was holding a tennis racket. Catching my look, he gave an embarrassed smile.

“I thought you were a burglar, so I picked up Kathy’s racket, in case...”

“I didn’t know I was being noisy. Sorry!” I replied.

Putting the racket on a couch, he said, “You weren’t. I was going to the toilet when I saw the faint light, and heard the movement. What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Probably four or thereabouts.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his eye going to the glass of vodka that was on the windowsill.

“Sort of.”

He sensed I was reluctant to talk about, but after a slight pause he asked, “Something wrong?”

“Had a bad dream,” I replied, without elaborating further, and he nodded in understanding.

“Do you mind if I join you for a cigarette?” he asked.

“You smoke?” I asked, surprised.

“I quit a few years ago, but still smoke now and then.” Before I could ask, he added, “Kathy’s being understanding, and shuts her eyes, as long as it’s not frequent.”

With a chuckle, I quipped, “Have you discovered how she gets when it’s frequent?”

“I wouldn’t want to find out,” he replied, with a wry smile.

I offered a cigarette and lit it. Taking a seat, he sat in silence for a few seconds, then said, “I had an uneasy sleep as well. My mind was... is too busy.”

“Is that related to what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yeah, but it can wait till tomorrow. Nothing serious, sort of a puzzle, and I hate puzzles. We’ll talk about it over breakfast, after Kathy leaves.”

“No problem. If I oversleep, just wake me up.”

“You look tired.”

“I didn’t sleep well.”

He smiled, then taking one last drag, he put out the half smoked cigarette. “I better get whatever sleep I can,” he said, before heading to the bedroom.

Stopping suddenly, he turned on his heels, and said, “I almost forgot. Dana called after you went to bed. Kathy talked to her, and wrote a note for you. It’s by the telephone. I think she wanted you to meet her at the airport, this evening.”

“Thanks. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Finishing the last of my drink, I went to the small table where the telephone was, and found the note Kathy scribbled for me. Dana was arriving at the airport at seven thirty this evening and wanted me to meet her at one of the cafe/bars. She also gave the number for the information desk of the airline she worked for, in case I couldn’t meet her at the airport and wanted to leave a message for her. I was impressed by her organized mind, and how she covered the major bases. From the note, I gathered she was planning to skip the hotel, and I suspected Kathy had invited her for dinner, and she had accepted the invitation. I was tempted to write a short note for Kathy to wake me up in the morning, but decided against it. She might wonder when and how I managed to find out about Dana’s plans, which might lead to an explanation of why I was up in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to worry her. I had a nagging feeling that I wouldn’t be sleeping much the rest of the night, and if I did, by chance, Mark would probably wake me before Kathy left for the hospital.

Leaving Dana’s note by the telephone, I returned to the window and put out my cigarette. Collecting the ashtray and my glass, I went to the kitchen to clean and wash them. After that I went back to my room, trying to catch a few hours of sleep. I didn’t know how long it took me, but eventually I fell asleep. It was fitful and restless, and before I knew it, I was awakened by the sound of the shower running.

* * * * *

I felt tired, and my muscles were sore. I didn’t want to get out of the bed, and stayed in until I heard Mark and Kathy pass my door heading to the kitchen. Getting out of the bed, I put on a shirt and my jeans, and went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. The shower would have to wait. Kathy and Mark were in the kitchen, having a cup of coffee. She raised an eyebrow, surprised to see me up and about so early, but it was colored by concern about how I looked. With a shrug, I told her I had a restless night from being too tired, trying to ease her concerns, and filled a cup for myself. She told me about Dana’s phone call and the plans for dinner, confirming my suspicions, before asking me about my plans. I wanted to visit the gym again, assuring her I would take it easy before she raised any objections. I also wanted to get a bit of rest, and later help her with dinner preparation. She told me she would be home in the afternoon, around five o’clock, which gave us plenty of time.

Finishing her cup, she kissed Mark and me, and left for work. I rummaged in the fridge, and asked Mark whether he wanted pancakes with honey or ham and eggs for breakfast. When he told me not to bother, I reminded him I needed to have something before I went to the gym, so he opted for ham and eggs. During the breakfast he was quiet, probably trying to collect his thoughts about what he wanted to talk about.

Over a cup of coffee, he told me about his problems and what was puzzling him. Monday morning he had called several people to make appointments to discuss renting office space. After that he had called his office to talk about the possibility of a leak, and his boss asked him to return immediately to attend several meetings. Thus, he ended up making calls to postpone his appointments, and asked for preliminary offers for office space he wanted to consider. That done, he had driven to head quarters, and discussed the possible leak with his boss. Neither of them had any idea who might be leaking information. His boss’ reaction puzzled him however. The boss thought it was a coincidence, rather than industrial spying.

Mark told me he had spent the first part of the afternoon in emergency meetings, describing the project and how things would be progressing, based on his proposal, to several people from different departments. After that, they had held several brainstorming sessions, forming small teams to deal with contingency planning, and discussing the various phases of the project. In the evening, he had sat with his boss, going over the situation and after a long discussion he had convinced his boss to look into the possibility of a leak, and find out whatever he could about their competitor’s plans.

At that point Mark mentioned, again, that his boss had been very reluctant to consider the possibility of a leak. Then, he moved on to yesterday, and the appointments he had had with people about renting the office space, trying to give me the full picture, not wanting to miss something that might have been crucial, even though most of it didn’t seem relevant to the questions he had in mind.

When he finished, we talked about his boss, and I got the feeling Mark was very much puzzled by his boss’ reaction to the possibility of industrial spying. He was also a bit irritated to be called back to give presentations on the project, something his boss was more than capable of doing, based on his proposal and earlier discussions. On the other hand, according to him, the team meetings and brain storming sessions had been successful, but he maintained he hadn’t really been needed for the sessions.

Based on what he told me, I thought about the situation. Even as an outsider I could sense something fishy going on, but I didn’t have a clue why I felt the way I did. On one hand, the timing of their competitor deciding to open a shop here was very strange, and it didn’t look very coincidental. On the other hand, I couldn’t understand why his boss failed to take notice of the situation—and if Mark was correct in his assessment, he almost seemed to be avoiding the subject.

I asked about who had access to his proposal and information about the new shop. Mark told me only he and his boss, unless, his boss had not been careful, and somebody had come across them by accident. He was, however, reluctant to speculate, since he couldn’t probe his boss about it. I mulled it over a bit, assuming Mark and his boss were the only ones who had access to the information. In the end, I could see two possibilities; either his boss was leaking the information, or Mark was. The last possibility was something I didn’t want to think about, because I liked the guy, and didn’t think he would do something like that. However, the more I thought about it, he seemed to be the most likely candidate. My impression of him was that he was an aggressive salesman, and very competitive. Managing a shop would be a step-up and a promotion in his career. His boss had been reluctant to open a shop, but Mark had invested his personal time looking at the possibilities long before the subject came up. If the competitor knew about their plans for opening a shop, they had to react to keep their accounts, which meant Mark’s company would be forced to respond to keep them away—action and reaction. And, because the competitor was a small company, I understood they had very little chance of standing up to Mark’s company.

This last point made me uneasy, because if Mark had done something like spreading a rumor to trigger a reaction from their competitor, it would have convinced his boss to give Mark the ‘go ahead,’ while Mark’s actions wouldn’t compromise his company seriously, but would commit them to opening a shop here.

I knew the guy, but not very well, and since I liked him, I wasn’t sure if I my judgment was colored by my personal feelings and his relationship with Kathy. Worse, I didn’t want to think about being played for a fool. My guts were saying I should trust him based on what I’d seen, but the more I analyzed the situation, the more confused I got. It was very delicate, because it would affect my relationship with Mark, and Kathy’s relationship with him as well, and I really wanted to trust him. On the other hand, my previous experiences with people in my own work made me wary and suspicious; I had seen too much maneuvering, plotting, and arm-twisting, and I knew I couldn’t ignore the possibility that Mark might be playing me. The only question was why would he involve me? I didn’t have an answer. There was only one way I could clear up the little suspicion I had, but the repercussions were very high, especially with Kathy. It could very well estrange us.

Shit! This is a disaster in the making. I don’t want to get involved in this.

Finishing my cup, I went to get the coffee pot for a refill, while trying to arrive at a decision on how I wanted to proceed. After filling my cup, I returned to the table with the pot, and topped up Mark’s cup. Settling in the chair, I decided on a very dangerous course!

This is either going to explode on my face, or Mark and I will get to know each other better!

“My thinking is that if only you and your boss knew about the project, and it looks like there’s a leak.” After a pause, I looked at him in the eye, and dropped the bomb, “Some might think you had the best motive to leak the information.”

“WHAT!” he exclaimed.

His shock and surprise weren’t faked. His expression changed to one of anger.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked, very much offended by my accusation.

Instead of an answer, I offered him a cigarette to give us both time to collect ourselves. He took it hesitantly, still angry and still a little bit shocked at my question, but trying to control his anger. I knew I had been wrong to suspect him. He had not expected my accusation, and had responded naturally. Now, he was trying to keep calm, waiting for an explanation.

Damage control time!

“Sorry, Mark. I owe you an apology, and an explanation. I just hope you can understand,” I said, trying to ease the tension, but he didn’t respond in any way, giving me a cold look, and waiting for an apology, if not an explanation.

Lighting his cigarette, I explained my thinking and analysis, and the possible motives he might have. Then I told him about my suspicions, and reservations; how it could affect our relationship, and Kathy.

“Look, Mark, I didn’t want to offend you. However, I’m not going to lie to you. I had small, but persistent suspicions, and I needed to remove all doubts. I know very little about you, and you know very little about me. What I did a few minutes ago isn’t something I’m proud of. It could very well damage my relationship with you and even with Kathy, if it hasn’t already. But I’ve seen quite a bit of manipulation and maneuvering in my work. I had some very unpleasant experiences; people trying to use me or take advantage of me. It’s not an excuse, but in some things I know I can be blindsided, and I’m suspicious when it comes to such things. You know Kathy’s happiness is very important, and you make her very happy. I wasn’t sure if I was being blind in regards to you, because of your relationship with Kathy. The other point is that I couldn’t answer why you would try to involve me. I didn’t want to suspect you, and thought I should clear it up for once and all. I was hoping you wouldn’t hold it against me, because my motives were dictated by my own experiences, rather than any judgment of you, because I don’t know much about you. At the back of my mind, I knew I had no reason to doubt you, and I shouldn’t have tried to test you, but still... I did what I did. I apologize,” I said.

He was quiet for a long time, and kept his eyes on me. The tension was still there, and I knew he resented what I did. If I were in his shoes, I would have.

“Shit, Mitch. You certainly can be a calculating SOB, you know that,” he responded with an irate tone.

With a sigh, I nodded. “I know. You were right about one thing. I don’t really sugar coat things, and I’m very direct, and sometimes, I resort to questionable tactics to get the answers I seek. There’s also something else.” I took a pause before continuing again. “What I just did... my reasoning... it ties into how your boss might be thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow at my last comment.

“I don’t know if you want to continue, but I have to say this. If your boss is not the source of leak, he might be thinking you are, or for some reason he might be setting you up.”

It was easy to see he was surprised again, and he mulled it over for some time.

“I see you what you mean. Damn! This is going to be very tricky. I’m not sure why he would be setting me up,” he said, his eyes distant. It was easy to see he was still mulling over the possibilities and ramifications of what I told him.

“Depends on many things. Does he own the company?” I asked.

“Nope. He’s the managing director. He answers to the Europe/Mid-East Regional Manager.”

“Well, he might see you as a danger to his career, and want to get rid of you. He might have been careless, and if it comes out it might damage him, so he might be looking for a scapegoat, or there might be other reasons. It all depends if there’s a leak and who is responsible. Are you sure it’s not a coincidence?”

“I’m pretty sure. The timing is strange. I got the feeling he was reluctant to consider there was a leak.” Looking me in the eye, he added, “You don’t think it is a coincidence, do you? You were the first one that pointed out the possibility on Sunday afternoon, when we were washing the dishes.”

I jogged my memory, and then nodded, remembering our conversation.

He returned to the subject again. “He might have been careless, and that explains why he might be reluctant. I can’t think of any motives for him to leak the information, but it’s something to keep in mind.”

“How’s your relationship with him? Are you always at odds, arguing?”

“Not really. In fact, we get along quite all right. I’m aggressive and frustrated with his conservative attitude, but that’s all. We don’t have any kind of friction or other issues between us. That’s why I doubt he would do something like that. He gets results, and he takes care of his people, so I never considered his position might be at stake, and I’m not sure if he would see me as a competitor.”

Taking a drag from his cigarette, he continued with, “It might be altogether possible that he may not even know he was careless. If that’s the case, he might suspect me. As you said, I’ve got the motive. The problem is, it would be very difficult—if not impossible—to locate the leak now; too many people are involved and aware of the project.”

“I don’t know if I could offer any insight. In the coming days, you will be busy, and since this is a rush job, things may not go smoothly. I’m not sure how you’re going to figure out if he’s setting you up, or if the problems that could crop are just that, problems.”

“Yeah.”

“Look, Mark. I wish I could help, especially after the stunt I pulled, but I don’t know how.”

He smiled at that, and said, “Hey, that’s OK, Mitch. I understand. No hard feelings. In fact, you gave me a lot to think about.”

“Well... I’m not going to deny I’m glad to hear that,” I responded.

He said, “I understand, Mitch. Kathy and all other things considered, you’ve really put it on the line.”

His last remark eased my apprehension considerably. Changing the subject, I asked, “The logistic issue you mentioned last night?”

“That was just to put Kathy at ease.”

“I see. If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be around until this weekend. I mean it. I’d like to keep busy, and I don’t have much to do.”

“Thanks, Mitch. I’ll keep that in mind, but there’s nothing at the moment. I might pick your brains, though, if you’re around. I like the way you think. I really do,” he said.

Finishing his coffee, he stood up and extended his hand. “It was good to talk with you, Mitch, and thanks for the offer.”

“Anytime,” I said, and shook his hand.

After he left, I collected the dishes and washed them. It was still early, so putting on my sweats, I jogged down to the playground and did my Tai Chi exercise. Back at home, I decided to take Sarah’s advice and shave off my beard and moustache completely, and after a quick shower, drove to the gym to put in a bit of work out and spent an hour under the sunlamp. On the way back home, I did a bit of shopping for the dinner tonight. Remembering how I had forgotten about dessert, I stopped at a nearby patisserie where Kathy shops, and bought a big pie, and ice cream.

Back at Kathy’s, I was in the kitchen, preparing a few simple things. While boiling rice, and chicken fillet, I marinated the salmon fillet. Then, I prepared pesto, Mom’s Georgia Sauce for the chicken salad, and washed and cleaned the vegetables. When Kathy arrived we would do the rest. It was going to be a simple and light menu consisting of a few starters followed by the main course, salmon fillet, stir-fried vegetables and rice. I was planning to sauté the salmon with a bit of garlic butter in a pan for a few minutes; something I had learned from one of the Dutch guys on the rig, who had prepared eastern style dinner with Indonesian and Chinese dishes during a rig move. It had been a delicious experience. When I asked him about the salmon, he explained it was similar to how the Japanese cooked, but because he didn’t have the correct herbs, and utensils, he had to improvise. Feeling a bit experimental, I wanted to try out his recipe for Kathy and others, because the salmon had been excellent.

Picking up Heinlein’s novel, I settled in the couch. Unfortunately, with the lack of sleep from last night, and the work out in the gym I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and a few pages later, I fell asleep.

* * * * *