Robert Bennett - The Company Man

Hayes rose and tracked the family through the market, watching them stop among the flower booths to purchase a crackly little pastry from a woman in a straw hat. Hayes browsed booths in their wake, watching out of the corner of his eye and nodding absently as the vendors tried to talk him into a deal. Then when Teddy split off to go buy something special for the girls Hayes made his move.

He crossed to the other side of the market, then turned and began weaving across the pathways toward Teddy. When he came into view Hayes stopped with an amiably confused look on his face and said, “Teddy?”

Teddy slowed as he passed, then stopped, a puzzled smile on his face. “Yes?”

“Teddy Montrose? Is that you?”

“Well, yes,” said Teddy. “Have we…”

Hayes grinned and laughed gaily, throwing out his arms like a long-separated relative. “Why, don’t say you don’t remember me, Teddy old boy! Don’t say you’ve forgotten me?”

Teddy laughed with him. “Well, I’m… I’m sorry, I really… It’s my fault, I really don’t recall…”

“Why, it’s old Carter, from the company,” said Hayes. He stuck his hand out and gave him a robust shake. “John Carter. Marketing Division. We met on the trip, last year. Don’t you remember?”

“Business trip?” said Teddy. “Last year?”

“Yes, certainly. We had a rousing old time with the boys, didn’t we? Had a lot of fun, right, Teddy? Got up to some trouble?”

“From the business trip?” said Teddy again, now no longer trying to hide his confusion. “But to where?”

“To Dockland, Teddy,” said Hayes. He lowered his voice. “To Dockland.”

Teddy’s brow crinkled. “What? I never went to Dockland. Not on business. I would never go to such a place.”

“But you did, Teddy,” said Hayes. His voice dropped to a murmur, nearly drowned out by the little flute quartet playing in a booth nearby. “You did. You went to Stella’s, don’t you remember? And you got up to so much fun there. With the boys and all. Do you remember?”

Teddy snapped to attention at the mention of that name. He stared at Hayes and the color drained from his face. “Wh-what did you say?”

“The boys, Teddy,” said Hayes softly. “Don’t you remember all the fun you had with the boys?”

Teddy began to tremble. He swallowed and said, “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned and began to leave.

“I don’t think I’d be leaving if I were you, Teddy,” said Hayes, louder. “It wouldn’t be wise.”

Teddy froze and looked back. “Wise? What do you mean?”

Hayes did not say anything. He just smiled grimly at him.

Teddy walked closer. “What do you mean? What do you want?”

Hayes pointed up the river at Sutherland’s. “To talk, Teds. There, at the restaurant. I’ll be at the bar at nine. And we’ll talk then, Teddy. Discuss what’s to be done with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nine,” said Hayes. “Be there. That’s all you need to know.”

“You can’t… you can’t do this to me,” whispered Teddy.

“I’m absolutely sure I can,” Hayes said. “Tell your wife you met a business partner. One with important news. Or tell her whatever you fucking like, it’s nothing to me. But you had better be there.”

“Or what?”

“Or else, this?” he said. He waved about at the market, then at Teddy’s family. Then he brought his hand to his face and blew into his fingers, as though he’d blown them apart into nothing. Then he smiled at Teddy and ran one finger along the brim of his hat and walked away.

Teddy was there at eight forty-five, covered in clammy sweat and shaking like a newborn lamb. He came and sat before Hayes, bent like a mourner, eyes adrift.

“What did you tell the wife?” asked Hayes.

“B-business partner,” said Teddy. Tears began spilling from his eyes to dribble down his cheeks.

Hayes glanced out the window at the flotilla of the market. “They’re out on the boats now?”

He nodded.

“All right. We’ll try to make this quick, then.”

“How do you know?” asked Teddy desperately. “How do you know about… about…”

Hayes decided to give him the truth. About Brightly and the days of following him. Hayes couldn’t help but talk about the man’s family as he did, discussing little Honoria and Jessica and the days he’d spent watching them. With each passing minute Teddy grew paler and paler. Finally he began sobbing outright.

“I’m a sick man,” he cried at the end of it. “I’m a sick, sick man.”

“Here now, buck up, Ted.” Hayes glanced around the bar. “You don’t want us thrown out, do you?”

“I’m such a sick man! So sick!”

“Yes,” said Hayes tersely. “Yes, I rather expect you are. Very sick.”

“I tried to stop. I tried to stop it. Tried not to go there. But

“But you couldn’t.”

“No,” he whispered. “No, I couldn’t.”

“No,” said Hayes tersely. “No, your kind usually can’t. But there’s no reason to get upset. We can keep it quiet, Teddy.”

Teddy sniffed and wiped his eyes. Snot was streaming from his nose now. “What is it you want? Money?”

“No. No, not money.”

“Then what?”

“Just a favor. You just have to do something for me.”

Hayes laid it out for him, nice and neat. What he wanted and how he expected to get it. He spoke as slowly as he could, making it easy for the man’s distressed mind. Then he took out Samantha’s light key and laid it on the table next to his drink. It had been easy to get, no one competent had been stationed near her apartment. Teddy stared at the key through jellied eyes, lips still quaking.

“But I never go there,” said Teddy. “I never go to the Records floor.”

“I don’t care. You’ll be going there now, won’t you? If you want to keep this quiet.”

“They’ll know. They’ll know I was there. There’ll be questions.”

“You go in with this key,” said Hayes, tapping it. “It’s not matched to you. It’s not yours. And they won’t question you being at the Nail. You’re a big man, Teddy. Big and important. You go in. You get what I want. Then when you’re done you throw the key away. Throw it down a storm drain, throw it in the ocean, I don’t care.”

“But they’ll find all those missing files!” whispered Teddy desperately. “They’ll find them and they’ll know it was me! How do I do it without them knowing?”

Hayes looked him up and down, face taut and cruel. “Well. That’s your problem, isn’t it? I don’t care how you do it, so long as you do it. I just want what I need. The rest is up to you.”

“They’ll catch me.”

“Maybe. Would being fired be worse than being prosecuted for buggery?”

Teddy choked. Then he shook as though he was about to vomit.

“Not here,” said Hayes quickly. “Run to the washroom if you’re going to do it.”

Teddy shook his head. He took a breath and got himself under control. Then he looked at Hayes with those weak little eyes and said, “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Hayes shook his head.

Teddy nodded. “All right.”

Hayes did not return to the safe house with Samantha that night. He did not want to risk attracting attention to her if he could. Instead he stayed in the attic of a condemned home he’d found. It looked as if it wouldn’t be of use for much longer, as it was now roped off for demolition. Once there he lay down on a musty old mattress and slept shivering in the dark.

You never did know which way they’d jump, the boys you burned. Ferguson had leaped out a window. Others had suddenly turned patriot, willing to die for their country or company. And Teddy might still find a way to muck everything up, blundering in there and fooling about. But Hayes suspected he wouldn’t. He had watched Teddy. He knew him. He was a careful man and a talented engineer, and he’d somehow managed to nurse an abominable perversion for years without cracking or letting anyone in on it. If anyone could do it, it’d be old Teddy.