Someone else was there, standing in the shadows just beyond the nightstand. A liver-spotted hand reached through the dim light to a telephone there, lifted the handset then punched in a series of numbers.
The screen blinked, went blank for a split-second then came back into focus. This time it was aimed at the outside of Jeff’s apartment building and appeared to have been shot very late at night. The droning sound continued, became slightly louder and then the image turned back to snow.
Jeff sat staring at the TV until the snow switched to a blank screen, indicating the material on the disc had ended.
Shaken, Jeff rose from the couch, switched the television off and ejected the disc. He was still holding and staring at it numbly when the phone rang.
Without speaking, he raised the phone to his ear.
“Hello Jeff.”
A chill ran up his back.
“You can’t possibly be surprised to hear from me,” Hope said.
“You just saw me dialing didn’t you? Who did you think I was calling?”
“What are you doing, I-what’s this all about?” Jeff squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. “Who are you people?”
“It’s not as if we haven’t already met, Jeff.” The old man sighed into the phone, but it was forced, phony. “Of course I was very disappointed to hear you’d turned down my generous job offer. I thought perhaps I could persuade you to reconsider. Before you answer, you should know that as we speak, another copy of the disc is on its way to your wife’s workplace. It should be delivered to her any moment now. Should you change your mind and choose to come to work for me I could easily stop the delivery, but there isn’t much time, I’m afraid, so I’ll need your decision as quickly as possible.”
Jeff ran a hand through his hair and began pacing the room like a caged animal. “Why are you doing this?”
“What am I doing?”
“You know goddamn well what you’re doing. You’re blackmailing me!”
“Oh how distasteful, I’m doing no such thing. No one has forced you to do anything, and no one ever will. You’ve simply made choices, Jeff, decisions. You’ve made them on your own. No one forced you to speak to Ms. Bell. No one forced you to accompany her back to her hotel. No one forced you to have breakfast with her. No one forced you to sleep with her. No one forced you to come and interview with me. And no one is forcing you to do anything now. I’m presenting you with options. This decision, like all the others before and after it, is yours and yours alone.”
“I haven’t done anything to you, I-we don’t even know each other-why would you do this to me? It’s been a setup from the start, but why? What do I possibly have you could want? I’m broke, I don’t have any money.”
Hope breathed heavily into the phone, Jeff’s torment clearly exciting him. “We don’t have much time, Jeff. Should I have the delivery canceled? Or would you rather take your chances and allow your wife to see the disc?”
Jeff gripped the phone so tightly it hurt his hand. “No…don’t…”
“Don’t?”
“Keep Eden out of this. Cancel the delivery, I-I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Consider it done, Jeff.” A muffled sound as he covered the phone with his hand, and then: “Now, I believe you and I have an appointment, yes?”
“Yes.”
“You know where to find me,” Hope said evenly. “I’ll be waiting.”
The line clicked, died.
And in that moment, in many ways, so did Jeff McGrath.
7
Still badly shaken, Jeff fired up their computer and plugged both Foster Hope and International Facilitator, Inc. into numerous search engines. They returned no information on either. Foster Hope simply resulted in several plays on the words and websites for various charities in which the word ‘hope’ was used in their name or information. International Facilitator, Inc. led to several management consulting firms, international businesses and the like, but nothing by that name and nothing that indicated the company even existed. He next tried Jessica Bell, but because it was such a common name it returned literally hundreds of hits. He checked several, but none were her.
After walking the apartment, replaying everything in his mind and trying to figure out what to do, Jeff finally decided to go see Craig first. He obviously had no choice but to keep his appointment with Foster Hope, or another disc would certainly be delivered to Eden before the day was through, but he and Craig had been friends a long time and Jeff knew he could confide in him. Maybe he’d know what to do. A clear-headed, objective opinion of everything that was taking place was needed, and Craig could provide him with that.
Disc in hand, he hurried down the stairs and out the building. He looked around for the homeless man but he was nowhere to be found.
His cryptic warning still lingered in Jeff’s mind, only now it had taken on even greater sinister meaning. You should stay away from her. “The one fucking time I want him to be here,” he mumbled, “he listens to me and stays gone.”
Jeff hopped in his car and pulled out, heading for Braintree, a town neighboring Boston Craig and his family had moved to a few years prior. As he moved through the midmorning traffic and headed out of the city, his mind raced uncontrollably with one frenetic thought after the next.
What the hell’s happening? Who are these people and what do they want with me? Why me? I didn’t-why did I do this? Why did I go to that hotel room with Jessica? What the fuck was I thinking? Eden, I’m so goddamn sorry, I-what am I going to do? What does Hope want?
And what’s with that creepy video? How could he and that other guy have been in the room? How could they-and the whole bit about dialing the phone and then mine ringing was obviously meant to frighten me and make it all seem-but no, it’s not even possible, none of this is. I would’ve seen them in the room, they-did they alter the tape maybe?
There are all sorts of programs now where you can-I-wait-did they drug me? Could Jessica have drugged me, put something in my breakfast maybe? Did I leave the table at any point? No, I didn’t, I-could she have slipped something in my juice or coffee or-no-this is crazy.
It’s all a setup. I’ve been the mark from the start, but why? None of it makes any sense. For Christ’s sake, I’m a salesman, what could they possibly want with me?
Just moments from the city, Jeff soon found himself barreling through the streets of Braintree. He’d tried calling Craig’s cell and home phones to let him know he was coming and needed to talk, but both went directly to voicemail, so he could only hope he was home and had simply missed the calls.
When Jeff turned at the top of Craig’s street he was relieved to see his car parked in front of the house, a modest raised ranch in a quiet working-class neighborhood. As he pulled in alongside Craig’s car, he noticed Katy, Craig’s wife, was in the passenger seat, and their two kids were in the back.
He waved. Katy returned it with an awkward, embarrassed, almost apologetic wave of her own then looked away as Jeff pulled into their driveway and stepped from the car.
Lugging a suitcase, Craig stumbled out the front door of the house. He froze when he saw Jeff. “What are you…what are you doing here?” he asked, voice shaking. He looked back in the direction Jeff had come, as if expecting someone else to pull in behind him.
“I need to talk.” Jeff hurried across the small lawn. “I’m in trouble.”
“I can’t.” He locked the door and checked the street again, his face a tapestry of panic and fear. Of average height, with dark red hair and a matching mustache, Craig normally possessed an extremely laid-back demeanor, but he was clearly terrified, something had frightened him beyond anything Jeff had ever before witnessed. “We’re going away for a few days before I start the new job.”