“But a welcome one?”
He beamed at her.
“Of course.”
She leaned forward a little, intent now on giving it to him straight. “To be brutally honest, Mr. Welland…”
“Please; Bill.”
“Bill. I had kind of given up on that agency… I’ve sort of, moved on since signing up with them.”
“No problem Ms Neuborn.”
“Marla.”
He grinned again. “Marla. Our company has very specific requirements; the right candidate for the right job. We put feelers out everywhere. We have employees from the world over, offices on every continent. I personally am a firm believer in appointments that are meant to be. Your resume and experience, coupled with your age could make you an ideal candidate for the job.”
Marla braced herself for the questions. So long since she’d done an interview. Deep breath, don’t mess it up.
“This isn’t an interview, as such,” Welland continued, as if clairvoyant. “No, I prefer to keep things as informal as possible. Our meeting is merely an opportunity to tell you more about the position and answer any questions you might have. Okay?”
“Absolutely.”
Marla’s voice betrayed her unmistakable relief. Welland didn’t seem to notice, or care.
“This isn’t your regular job, I can assure you of that. If I were to tell you that it would involve living in real luxury on a Mediterranean island would you have a problem with that Marla?”
His eyes positively twinkled. Smooth bastard. Marla shook her head, smiling.
“Good. Now we’re past that difficult question,” he chuckled. “Onto the details… The Consortium Inc. represents a quorum of very rich clients, who would like to stay that way. Each of the members has a variety of business interests, and the day-to-day running of these is handled largely by us. One such area entrusted to us is the safekeeping of an island community owned entirely by our clients. Are you with me so far?”
“I’m with you.”
Welland rose and continued speaking as he glanced out at the gloomy city sky.
“The mansions on the island are inhabited very rarely, usually when our clients are taking their annual break or attending a special event on the mainland. This makes it very difficult for them to fulfill their resident status requirements; have you heard of those?”
“I’m… No I don’t think I have.”
“No problem, Marla, I’ll explain. The system is exactly the same in Monaco and other…prestigious areas; wealthy homeowners are required to prove residential status in order to qualify for generous tax benefits. If they only use their homes for a week or two a year, they don’t qualify. So, rather than lose out, they employ housekeepers to keep things in order for them. These employees use up a bit of gas, water and electricity each day, tend to the grounds and generally enjoy all that the lifestyle has to offer.”
“Sounds too good to be true.”
“Indeed it does,” he turned smiling from the window. “Especially when you also take into consideration the fee you get paid on top. The Consortium holds a monthly salary in an account for you. Once your contract is complete, the money is yours.”
“May I ask…”
“How much? Of course,” he chuckled. “It’s a little more than double what the agency was offering you, per hour, as a base rate.”
Marla whistled. She could already see the possibilities; a University course, no more debts, no crappy bed-sit… She snapped back into reality. Too good to be true. Has to be.
“I don’t know how to ask this politely…”
“Go ahead.”
“What’s the catch?”
Welland chuckled once more. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a folder, sliding it across the smooth surface towards Marla.
“First catch; before we hire you, you must complete this written personality test.”
I already have a personality, Marla was tempted to say. I don’t need to take a test. I hate tests. She bit her lip.
“You don’t have to do it right now. Mail it back to us and we’ll let you know in a few days if you’ve got the job.”
After a pause, he went on. “Second catch; if we hire you, you must agree to be available without interruption for a year. You will not be allowed to leave the island for any reason during this period. That includes illness, and ‘acts of God’. If you break contract, your earnings account will be closed and no monies paid to you. However, I assure you that if your contract doesn’t reach full term for any other reason, then you’ll be paid in full. And the third catch is our secrecy clause; you shall at no point during your employment be advised of the exact location of the island and you will not be permitted to contact the outside world.”
“So, no phone calls?”
“That’s right. No calls, no Internet, no text messages. No physical mail.”
Marla couldn’t disguise her consternation at this restriction. It seemed such a bitter pill after all Welland had offered so far.
The warm smile again. Those white teeth.
“I know it seems draconian, Marla. Believe me, the island is so beautiful you won’t even want to contact the dreary old mainland once you’re there. All our employees say so. Please, take the test with you and give it some thought.”
Marla warmed a little. She picked up the folder and stood up.
“Have you been there? To the island?”
He led her gently to the door.
“You’re kidding, right?” He grinned. “I started out just like you; as a Lamplighter. I loved it so much I joined The Consortium full time. I’m sure once you take the test you’ll work out just fine…”
“A Lamplighter?”
He flicked the light switch off, then on again.
“That’s what we call the island workers.”
Lamplighters.
Marla kind of liked that.
Chapter Five
All the way home, Marla had expected a camera crew to jump out on her. Surprise! It was a set-up! There is no job, but you’ve been such a good sport… She leafed through the personality test Welland had given her. Some of the questions were just plain weird, veering randomly from logic puzzles to the somewhat intrusive. Actually, a TV show set-up might be better than all this prying.
As she climbed the stairs back at her building, Marla had an acute sense that something was wrong. Turning the corner into the hallway, she could see why. The door to her room was wide open. She approached the doorway cautiously, gripping Welland’s folder like a shield. Peering into her room, Marla’s heart thumped hard with the expectation that an intruder would be peering back at her. But the room was empty.
Marla checked the door lock. The catch was a little screwy as usual and there was no sign that it had been forced. Must not have closed it properly on her way out for the interview. Jesus, when she wasn’t locking herself out she was having an open house party. She flopped down on the bed and smiled grimly to herself. The room was such a mess anyway it’d look like it had been burgled whether the door was left open or not. Then she froze. Her laptop was gone.
Moments later, Marla found herself banging on the door of the pervert down the hall. She almost had no recollection of walking to his door; the red mist had carried her here. What if it wasn’t him? No. If anyone was going to mess with her things, it was that letch. She pummeled harder on the door, nearly falling inside as it opened. His confused face looked out, half in shadow.
“I want my laptop back, now,” spat Marla, harshly.
“Your…what?”
“Don’t feign ignorance with me, Mister. I know you took it, so just give it the hell back.”