Chapter 12
Twelve
Brandon
The car drops me off in front of a nondescript office building.
At this point in the afternoon, the streets are almost deserted, office workers back inside the cloistered warmth of their cubicles.
I use my keycard to access the elevator controls and press the button for the top floor.
The guard behind the security desk gives me a curious look as the door closes.
My guess is that not a lot of people who look like me visit this building, and when they do, it’s never with the kind of pass I have.
The elevator opens on a glass reception desk staffed by a nice looking blonde close to my age. She’s beautiful, with an athletic body and full pink lips, but she’s also icy. Working for Anton, God only knows what that coldness means. She could have a dozen kills under her belt for all I know.
“May I help you?” she asks forcefully and there’s no mistaking her accent as anything but Russian.
“I’m here to see Anton,” I tell her.
“Name?”
“Vole.” She doesn’t react to the odd sounding name, but I imagine she probably encounters them several times a day.
“One moment, please.”
She types something into her computer and then motions for me to go ahead.
I hear the click of the glass door just before I push it open.
Anton’s desk is straight ahead, at the back center of the floor taking up more room than seems reasonable even for the president and CEO of a multimillion-dollar organization.
Corporation. I’m a legitimate businessman now, Anton told me, a statement about as believable as a shark claiming to be a goldfish.
As I approach his glass-walled office there’s another click, unlocking the door ahead of me.
He’s sitting behind his desk, wearing a Brioni suit that doesn’t hide the bulging muscle underneath.
Anton looks like a man who’s been in a lot of fights and won most of them.
His hair is cropped short, his neck thick, his gray eyes cold.
Maybe the girl at reception is his sister. They share the same snake-like quality.
“Sit,” he says, pointing to a chair. Unlike the girl outside, Anton’s accent is American, east coast maybe, though I’m only going off TV.
I’ve never left the Midwest. I lower myself into the chair cautiously.
Anton’s driver showed up outside school unexpectedly to bring me here, and I’m sure it isn’t to be told good news. ”How are you, Brandon?”
“I’m good,” I tell him, nervously. His unblinking eyes spark alarm in my lizard brain. I can’t help it—it’s instinctive.
“I’ve received your progress reports, but I was hoping you could talk me through them.”
“Um, of course.” I’m kind of confused because we have a standing meeting every two weeks to do exactly this, so I’m not sure why I’m at this impromptu meeting. I’m missing soccer practice to be here.
With the press of a button, a projector screen lowers from the ceiling to our left and we pivot to face it.
With a few mouse clicks, Anton has a 3D model of the house projected onto the screen.
The rooms are color coded blue for Devin and Tanisha and red for Deja.
My room and the common areas are shaded yellow, with the frequently used rooms a brighter shade than the less frequented ones.
Rooms I’ve cleared have a thick black border around them.
I clear my throat.
“Since we last met, I’ve had a chance to search two of the high-profile targets: the master bedroom and Devin’s office. No one else was home when I did it, so I had time to be thorough.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t find what we’re looking for?”
“No. There’s a floor safe in the walk-in closet.
The code was written on a card in a lingerie drawer.
There wasn’t anything significant inside—some jewelry, financial documents, birth certificates.
I took pictures and forwarded them to you.
There’s also a small safe in the office, but I couldn’t get that one open. ”
“So what you’re telling me is that you found nothing?”
“I…yeah. But if I can get the office safe open there’s a chance what we’re looking for is in there.”
I point to each room on the model as I count off. “I also hit the second-floor guest room, the linen closet, the back stairs, and the laundry room. There’s still the maid’s room next to the laundry. It’s really unlikely that’s the place, but we can’t rule anything out.”
“What about the attic?”
“I used the snake you gave me through the ceiling, and it looks like nothing but blown insulation. If you want to be sure, I can provide the domestic schedule. You can probably swap someone in for the pest control guy.”
“That’s not the worst idea, but I’d like to keep that in reserve till we’ve eliminated every other option. I don’t want Devin to sniff anything that might spook him.”
“I need some help with the safe in his office. I don’t know how to open it.”
“What kind of safe is it?”
“I’m not sure. There’s a combination lock.”
“Send me a picture and I’ll arrange something. I’ll let you know when it’s in the pickup location.”
Another trail run, then. At least it helps my stamina and balance.
“How are you adjusting to the new school?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.
“Fine,” I say. “Everything’s great.”
“Wonderful. Any new friends? A girlfriend?”
“Not really. I’m trying to stay focused on the job.”
“Is that right? Then why did I have to scrub video of you carrying an unconscious girl through the foyer from the security system?” His stare is withering. I want to climb under a rock.
“I, uh, forgot there was a camera there.”
“You cannot afford to forget things like that! You jeopardize everything for what? Some pussy? I can get you ten girls just like her. You do something that careless again, and the deal is off. You can move your mother to whatever nursing home Medicaid will pay for, you understand me?”
I nod, keeping my expression blank even as anger begins to simmer inside me. Of course Anton doesn't care about my mom. I'm just a tool he can use, a means to an end.
“You have been in that house now for nearly two months with nothing to show for it. Our deal is you find the item and I pay for your mother’s medical care. Right now I’m the only one holding up my end.”
But Anton's right. I've been living in Devin’s house for weeks now and I'm no closer to finding the evidence he’s been using to blackmail Anton. I don’t know the details, but whatever it is it’s bad enough to have Anton scared.
Devin has promised that if he’s not paid, or if any harm comes to him or his family, the evidence will zip its way to the police.
When Anton approached me months ago, I wasn’t sure who he was.
Online he’s depicted as an entrepreneur, and you can find a few pictures of him attending events with model-looking chicks on his arm.
But I have enough experience with criminals to know when I’m dealing with one.
The minute Anton walked into the meeting with my coach at my old soccer club, I knew he was some kind of reptile.
He pitched the Briarwood scholarship and only when he had me alone later did he explain what he actually wanted me to do.
He was searching for any kind of leverage on Devin when he located an old guardianship agreement Devin signed when my mother worked for him.
Seeing the unique opportunity I presented to get inside Devin’s house, Anton arranged my scholarship to Briarwood and my spot on the soccer team, and now that my mom’s in a facility where she’s receiving proper care, he knows I’ll do anything to keep her there.
"I'm trying," I say. "It's just...not as easy as I thought it would be. The house is enormous. There are so many places something could be hidden."
Anton leans forward, his eyes boring into me. "Then I suggest you search more thoroughly. Every inch of that house if you have to."
“I'll keep looking."
I still haven't thoroughly searched the basement. Too many boxes and pieces of junk piled up over the years. There's also the small wall safe in Devin’s office that I haven't been able to get into. If what we’re looking for is hidden anywhere in the house, those are the most likely spots.
I want to see Devin go down nearly as much as Anton does.
He deserves to burn in hell. After he fired my mother without notice or explanation, I’m convinced he’s the one who circulated rumors that she was a thief.
My mother was blackballed from working in Twin Oaks, and since she was live-in, we instantly lost the roof over our heads.
We’d lived in shelters and my mom’s car for months.
Eventually she found a decent job that allowed us to get an apartment, but we’ve been homeless more than once and it’s been a struggle to stay above water.
My mother’s deteriorating health has only made it more challenging as time goes on.
I’m also pissed at my dad for abandoning us, but he’s not the one I have the opportunity to take down.
I also know that once I find the evidence Anton will likely find some other task for me and another.
I feel his claws burying themselves in my skin and I’m filled with impotent rage.
Reprimanded and controlled by this piece of shit, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
My state of mind edges towards despair when I think that I was likely destined to end up here.
Between my mother’s illness and my father’s abandonment, this feels like fate.
"Thanks," I say through gritted teeth. "And I'll keep looking."
"See that you do," Anton says. "And try not to let your little head lead you astray again. I’m not going to be so understanding next time."
My blood boils at his condescending tone. As if he has any right to judge me, when he's the one holding my mom's safety over my head like a carrot on a stick. But I force myself to nod.
"Don't worry about me. I'll get it done."
"Good man," Anton says with an oily smile.