Robert Bennett - The Company Man

Hayes opened up the newspaper. It did not take long, as the story was on the front page and all the other stories seemed to be about it. Soon the look of confusion melted out of his face to be replaced with one of aching weariness. He shut his eyes and held his brow with one hand.

“Oh, Sam,” he said. “Sam, Sam. You didn’t need to do that.”

“Do what? Help Donald? Of course I had to. You knew what I was out to do.”

“Oh, I knew that. I knew you would never let him be thrown to the dogs. But you should have waited. You should have left it up to me, Sam.”

“To you!” she said. “To you, who got us all into this mess? Who got poor Mr. Evans fired, not to mention myself? Who disappears without a word? To you? Good God, Mr. Hayes, why on Earth would I leave anything of importance in the hands of a man like you?”

Hayes took a breath. He seemed to be steeling himself. “It’s a question of leverage,” he said.

“Of leverage?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

He blinked, startled. “Well, you used everything you had to get Garvey off,” he said. “And they took you for it, and Evans. But I think I can get us something more, Sam. Something bigger.”

She slowly sat back down on the bed. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not sure yet. But something stinks about all this. And I think I can find out what.”

“Stinks about what? About what happened to Donald?”

“No. About what we saw and heard down there in the tunnels.”

Samantha frowned at him. “What do you mean? Are you talking about… about blackmail?”

He shrugged.

“Blackmailing who? The unions?”

“No. McNaughton, Sam.”

“McNaughton?” she said, confused. “With what? And how would blackmailing McNaughton help Donald?”

“I can’t say yet. As I said, I’m not sure. But if my hunch is right then this isn’t over yet. We can still set things aright. But I need something from you, Sam.”

She laughed hollowly. “What more could you need? After all this?”

“Just something little. Something small.” He leaned forward, eyes skirting the floor of the room as he thought. “When you did your research at McNaughton, there was a Records floor, the nineteenth floor, right? You spent a lot of time there, yes?”

“Well. Yes.”

“And they let you have access to budgetary files, didn’t they?”

“Yes, of course they did.”

“All right. And somewhere in there was the budget for Local Securities. There was a room for it, probably, a separate room. Big and black, locked down tight. Wasn’t there?”

“Yes. They made sure never to tell me about it, but I saw it there, yes.”

“And you had the key,” he said desperately. “A light key. Tell me they gave it to you, Sam.”

“But why-”

“Never mind why. Just please, tell me they trusted you with that.”

“Yes, they did. The key they gave me opened any door on the filing floor, but I never used it for Local Securities. Someone said if I tried to access those files then they ask you about it immediately. They have some sort of logging system for the keys, I have no idea how it works.”

“That doesn’t matter. Where’s the key?”

“It’s in my apartment. In Newton. It’s being watched, though.”

“I know it’s being watched, I swung by there and saw them. But you’re sure? You’re sure it’s there, Sam?”

“I’m sure. I keep all my keys and important file work in my desk.”

“Which desk?”

“It’s the one I brought with me from home. You’ll notice it, it’s the ugliest thing in the apartment.”

He stood up. “Then let’s hope they haven’t ransacked the place yet.”

“You’re going?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes. I need that key, Sam. I’ve stolen and stored up a great deal of keys in my day, but that one’s always eluded me. If there’s anything to be found, it’ll be in that little room.”

“But even if you manage to get the key, you still can’t get into the Nail! They’ll be looking for you, they’ll know they can’t let you in!”

“I don’t plan on going myself, Sam,” he said darkly. “In fact, I’m probably going to do something I’d never consider doing otherwise. Stay here. There’s nowhere else that’s safe yet. And things are going to get a lot more dangerous out there.” He went to the door and opened it. The gray waterfall of the canal was still surging along out front and he pulled his scarf tight against its fine rain.

“If you find what you’re looking for,” said Samantha, “if you find what we need, will that help Donald? Or us?”

He stopped to look back at her. “Us, no. Garvey, maybe. But I honestly have no idea, Sam. I really don’t.” Then he shut the door and was gone.

Hayes went northeast to where Netwon met the Sound and enormous town houses lined its shores. It was a famously pretty area called the Garden District, as it showcased the few picturesque scraps of coastline and the only worthwhile parks. He checked his watch as he entered the park lanes that led down to the water, but it wasn’t necessary. He could already tell by the colorful lights beyond that the Tidetop Market was about to start.

The idea for the Market had originally been taken from Dockland, where it was common for small watercraft to be refitted as seaborne vending booths, little houseboats and sturdy rafts that flitted back and forth to harry ships and people on the shore for business. On weekend mornings they would all cling to the wharfs and the docks, setting up temporary markets where one could buy all sorts of exotic fruits and spices and meats, not to mention goods that had arrived in the country by suspicious means and could not be sold anywhere else. And then someone in the Garden District had thought that was a very clever idea indeed and chose to organize their own cleaner, more upstanding version of the same thing, arranged as a community festival. It soon came to be considered one of the most charming attractions Evesden had to offer.

The boats were strictly screened by the organizers. Nothing of any ill repute or anything too upsetting. An exotic atmosphere was encouraged, however, and the boats themselves had to be specially engineered. Some mechanical genius had figured out a way for all the boats to latch onto one another, forming a tight grid of little dinghies and skiffs that reached out into the water. Once they were secure, fans of the market could wander through the bobbing paper lanterns and waterborne shops, sometimes stopping to watch a fantastic meal prepared on a bed of coals on the steel floor of a pontoon. It was a popular place for children of the wealthy, and if you didn’t want to spend time in the market you could always get a table at Sutherland’s, the restaurant just down the river, and watch the multicolored lights drift and dip along the water.

Hayes got to the market just as evening began, dressed in his very best suit. He waited at the bar of a wine booth that had a clear view of the market entrance, sipping rice wine as slowly as he could. He wondered how long he would have to wait. Hopefully it would not be for more than an hour; the market would soon be a crowded place, and he already felt the uncomfortable itching at the backs of his eyes that told him a migraine was coming. But he knew his man took his family to the Tidetop Market every time he could, so surely he’d be here eventually.

Hayes was right. He arrived just after seven, arm in arm with his lovely wife, his daughters precious in their little blue and red dresses. Hayes guessed the one in red was Jessica, as he remembered she was the older one, and the child in blue would be Honoria. They had grown since he’d last seen them. The wife, Elizabeth or whatever, she seemed to be doing all right, smiling emptily into the night sky. And Teddy seemed to be doing fine as well. Old Teddy Montrose from Telecommunications, gleefully ignorant as always. He should have been thanking God and Jesus and Mother Mary he’d never put a toe out of line, considering what Brightly had on him.