“Son of a bitch!” the man yelled, releasing Ben and grabbing his bleeding nose.
Coughing as he ran up the block, Ben struggled to catch his breath. As he passed the supermarket, he looked back and saw that his attacker was in pursuit. Ben dropped his briefcase and grabbed the snow shovel from the hands of the supermarket employee. As the man approached him, Ben swung the shovel wildly. “Stay the hell away from me!”
“Calm down,” the man said. “I’m not here to hurt you.” As the man tried to keep Ben’s attention, Rick turned the corner and was slowly sneaking up behind Ben.
“Who are you?” Ben asked. “Who sent you?”
“I’m on your side,” the man said. “I swear. I’m from the Justice Department.” His eyes were locked over Ben’s shoulder.
Following the man’s gaze, Ben spun around, swinging the shovel blindly as he turned. To his surprise, the flat side of the shovel connected with Rick, who would’ve otherwise grabbed him. “I don’t believe it,” Ben said. When Rick fell to the ground, Ben took the shovel and hit Rick once more in the head. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Ben screamed. “This is my life!”
Ben yelled at the supermarket employee. “Call the police!”
“We are the police,” Rick’s accomplice said to the employee. “Don’t call anyone.”
“Grab him already, Claremont!” Rick yelled, holding his ear, which was covered in blood.
Throwing the shovel at Claremont, Ben turned around and ran down the block.
“Follow him!” Rick yelled, even though Claremont was already in motion.
Faster and more athletic than either of his attackers, Ben ran back toward the residential part of his neighborhood. Hopping fences and racing through backyards, Ben crisscrossed between houses so his pursuers never had him in sight for longer than a few seconds. He turned down one driveway, made a left when he reached the backyard, hopped over a fence into the next-door neighbor’s garden, ran to the back of the garden, hopped over a fence that put him in a connecting backyard, and ran back out another driveway. Weaving through the neighborhood, Ben knew that the only house he had to avoid was his own. If his two attackers had split up, one of them would definitely be waiting there. As the cold air packed his lungs, he worked his way back toward the supermarket, staying off the main streets and navigating through the garbage-filled alleys. Hoping he had lost his pursuers, he ran toward Boosin’s Bar, the only place he knew that had a pay phone and, more important, a back door. He took one last look around and then entered the bar.
Ben headed directly for the back of the bar. He shoved open the door to the men’s rest room, entered a stall, and locked it. He bent over and tried to catch his breath. As the warmth of the bathroom replaced the cold of the outdoors, Ben felt like he was burning up. He pulled off his jacket, then lifted the toilet seat and vomited the banana and bagel he had just eaten. When his stomach was empty, he convulsed with dry heaves, as his body reacted to the panic that flooded his mind. He flushed the toilet and sat down, shaking. I can’t believe this, he thought, his elbows resting on his knees. What the hell is happening? As he dabbed his forehead with toilet paper, Ben’s body temperature eventually returned to normal, and the color slowly returned to his face.
Twenty minutes later, convinced that Rick and his colleague were long gone, Ben left the rest room. He searched his pockets for change and pulled out a few coins, which he inserted into the pay phone. As he dialed Lisa’s number, his eyes darted through the bar, which was filled with a few basketball fans who were eating breakfast before the first game of the day.
“Hello,” Lisa answered.
“You will not believe what just happened to me,” Ben said, his voice racing. “I just got attacked by Rick and some other guy. They jumped me and tried to kidnap me. I slammed them in the head with a shovel and ran for-”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lisa said. “One thing at a time. Start over.” After hearing his explanation of the past half hour, she said, “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” Ben said.
“Did you get a good look at Rick’s partner?”
“Not really. My mind was running at full speed. All I remember is that he was trying to tell me that he was from the Justice Department.”
“Do you think he was?”
“Of course not,” Ben said. “The Justice Department doesn’t attack people with chloroform. He just didn’t want them to call the cops.”
“Who was he, then?”
Ben’s eyes were focused on the front door of the bar. “Either Rick’s lackey or the guy Rick’s using to make money on American Steel.”
“Why would Rick need a new person? American Steel’s a public company. Rick can buy all the stock he wants.”
“But you need money to buy stock. And presumably, Rick was wiped out from Grinnell. He needs someone who already has a lot of American Steel stock or who’s willing to put up the funds. Otherwise, he’s-” Ben looked at his coat on the floor. “Damn,” he said. “I just realized I left my briefcase by the supermarket. I’m sure they grabbed it.”
“You didn’t leave the decision in there, did you?”
“Of course not. But the letter I was working on is in there. Which means they know that I’m turning myself in.”
“They knew that the moment you didn’t show up at the museum yesterday,” Lisa said. “Meanwhile, have you called Nathan and Eric?”
“Not yet. Why?”
“Call them,” Lisa demanded. “If Rick’s running around your neighborhood, the first place he’s going to check is your house. Are they still home?”
“Nathan’s at work, but Eric might be.” Ben hung up and searched his pockets for more change. He was a nickel short. Undeterred, he anxiously entered his calling card number into the pay phone. As his fingers danced across the buttons, he realized he’d misdialed the number. “Damn,” he said, hanging up. He picked up the receiver and frantically reentered his calling card number. “C’mon, c’mon,” he said as he waited for the tone. He heard it and entered his home number, praying Eric had finished his editing and left the house.
“Hello,” Eric said.
“Eric, it’s me. Get out of the house. Rick and that guy in the navy coat-”
“Have you spoken to Lisa?” Eric interrupted.
“Don’t worry about Lisa,” Ben said. “You have to-”
“Shut up a second,” Eric insisted. “Rick called here looking for you. He said it was an emergency. And he wanted me to tell you that he was going over to Lisa’s.”
Ben’s heart sank. “How long ago did he call?”
“About a half hour ago. Do you need any-”
Ben hung up the phone, reentered his calling card, and dialed Lisa’s number. “Shit, shit, shit,” he said as the phone rang five times without an answer.
Finally, Lisa picked up. “Hello.”
“Get out of your apartment,” Ben said. “Rick’s on his way over.”
“Or maybe I’m already here,” Rick said. “How are you doing, Ben? Long time, no see.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Why so sad?” Rick asked. “It’s just me.”
“If you hurt her, I swear I’ll-”
“Spare me the threats,” Rick demanded, his voice growing suddenly serious. “I now have both Lisa and Nathan-”
“Nathan?”
“Shut up and listen for once,” Rick said. “I have both of them, and I’m sick and tired of playing games. Now tell me where you are.”
Ben was silent.
“This is no time to be stupid,” Rick said. “You already lost one friend this weekend. Do you want to go for two?” Getting no response, he added, “How about three?”
“I’m at Boosin’s Bar,” Ben finally said. “It’s on New Hampshire.”
“I know where it is,” Rick said. “I expect you to be standing outside in ten minutes. And if you happen to feel the urge to call the authorities, your parents, Eric, or anyone else, I will be extremely upset with you. Do you understand?”