Greg Gifune - Sorcerer

“I’d like to think so.”

“You seem like a nice young man, a bright, articulate, hardworking and conscientious fellow, someone who could not only use a break, but someone who deserves one.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“Jeff, I’ve spent my life reading people. In sales you have to immediately discern a person’s strengths and weaknesses, you know that yourself. The best salespeople are excellent judges of character, and use that to their advantage. I’ve been around a long time. I know a good man when I see one. You’re just down on your luck, that’s all.”

Jeff crossed his legs and attempted a relaxed posture. “So what kind of position are we talking about then?”

“Specifically, I have an opening for a negotiator. My company employs several to handle negotiations with clients when it becomes necessary or when it’s beneficial for us or both parties. I’ve found those with sales backgrounds tend to be perfect for the positions.”

“I see,” Jeff said, though he had no idea what he was talking about. “So, negotiations as in…”

There was a soft but sudden knock on the interior door. As Mr. Hope turned in its direction, it opened and a mousy middle-aged woman in a frumpy dress leaned into the room, her brown eyes comically large due to a pair of eyeglasses with black plastic frames and unusually thick lenses. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but you have an extremely important phone call.”

“Thank you, Ms. Gill. Tell whoever it is I’ll be with them momentarily.” He struggled to his feet with a weary sigh as the woman retreated, closing the door behind her. “Jeff, go ahead and fill out an application.” He slid the clipboard over to him. “It’s just a formality, really, but a necessary one. I won’t be long. This shouldn’t take but a minute or two. And help yourself to a cup of coffee, perhaps a donut.”

Once Hope had left the room, Jeff took a look at the application.

It was generic and unimaginative and requested little beyond the basics: full name, address, social security number, phone number, education and work history and two lines for references, one personal, one professional. He considered the application a moment, unsure if he wanted to continue. You’ve come this far, he thought. Might as well stick it out and see what happens. What happened earlier is over and done with, and nothing can ever change that now. He sighed, ran a hand over his face and back through his hair then picked up the pen lying next to the clipboard. A new and lucrative career could solve all their problems. You’ve done some stupid-ass shit in your life, but you really stepped in it this time, boy. You fucked up, and huge, but this might be a way to do something right. If this job pays as well as Hope says it does and you get it, you could go to Eden with some good news for a change. Clear your head and get in the game, moron, this could be your one chance to really come through for you and your wife. And you owe her, you piece of shit.

Jeff poured himself a cup of coffee then filled out the application.

While awaiting Mr. Hope’s return, he heard strange shuffling sounds in the hallway behind him, and then muffled voices beyond the door on the back wall. Jeff couldn’t be certain but one of the voices sounded like Hope. The tone indicated he was reprimanding someone, though it was hard to tell for sure.

Not long afterward, Foster Hope returned to the room, closed the door and sat in the chair he’d occupied earlier. “I apologize for the interruption. I’m sure you understand these things are often unavoidable.”

“Perfectly understandable, sir,” Jeff said, game face firmly in place.

“Where were we?”

“We were about to discuss specifics regarding the negotiator position.”

“Of course.” He crossed his legs and assumed a more relaxed posture. “I’m from the old school-call me foolish if you will-but I’ve never believed in the need for formal written contracts unless it’s absolutely necessary to protect both parties. In my day, for the most part, a person’s word was sufficient. And do you know why, Jeff?

Because in my day one’s word had significance and meaning, it meant something beyond words or even intentions. It had weight, do you understand?”

“I do.”

He gave a sheepish shrug. “At any rate, due to the way in which I sometimes conduct business, it becomes necessary for one of my negotiators to convince clients that they need to do the right thing.

Settle their accounts, fulfill whatever they agreed to in a given business deal, etc. Most of the time it’s a simple oversight or miscommunication, but now and then people actually try to double-cross us. Regardless, these matters must be attended to and resolved, and that’s where the company negotiators come in.”

“Isn’t that why God created lawyers?”

“I promise you, God had nothing to do with the creation of lawyers.” Hope chuckled softly. “No, these situations are delicate and need to be handled with the utmost care, professionalism and above all, discretion. Those who can perform these duties well are not easy to find, Jeff, so when we come across someone we feel is right for the job we pay them handsomely.”

That’s the deal then, this is some sort of criminal enterprise, Jeff thought. I should’ve known this was all too good to be true.

“With all due respect Mr. Hope, I’m a salesman, not a leg-breaker.

If you want to hire a goon to lean on people there are plenty of characters in the city that do that kind of thing. I’m just not one of them.”

“No, you misunderstand, that’s not what I’m looking for at all. I abhor violence, even the mere threat of it. I’ve seen violence, real violence, and there’s nothing glamorous or appealing about it, trust me. Anyone that’s ever traversed a battlefield will tell you the same thing. I simply need someone to calmly and rationally convince delinquent clients that it’s in everyone’s best interest if they do the right thing. It’s a negotiation, not a threat or intimidation.

Who better than a gifted salesman like yourself to talk to someone and sell them, in a sense, on the appropriate course of action?

Besides, the kind of scum you’re referring to are wholly unnecessary in these situations. It’s been a personal policy of mine for years to never deal or interact in any way with those sorts of individuals.

Frankly, they scare me. I’m a legitimate businessman, Jeff, not a criminal.” Mr. Hope scratched at his cheek delicately and smiled. “I need people I can trust, people with ethics and morals, businesspeople, professionals. I need someone who can do this job correctly, in a civil manner, and if that someone has a particular need that I’m in a position to meet by hiring them in exchange for their services, all the better. Of course even if we did decide to offer you the position, were you to find it unsuitable, simply resign and we’ll part as friends. But hopefully you’d find it to your liking, remain with us and excel in the position. However you must also understand that you’d begin on a trial basis. Generally the period only lasts the length of a single assignment, and we make a decision from there whether it’s working for us or not. Again, if not, we part as friends. But if we like what we see once you’re in action then we move forward together and welcome you permanently to the International Facilitator family.”

Though Hope’s explanation helped to soften his initial apprehension, he wasn’t sure he liked the emphasis the old man put on the word permanently. It was an odd conversation at best, and with a total stranger to boot, but curiosity had slowly gotten the better of him. He still knew virtually nothing in terms of specifics, but that would come later. He needed this job and the hefty salary promised along with it. “Well I hope we can pursue this then,” he said. “I think I’d like to learn more and see where it takes me.”