Page 39 of Fate Awakened

I guess the son of a bitch was right.

It irritates me some to admit that, but it also refocuses me. I allow my gaze to return to the boss, who silently observes the exchange. As he finishes with the item, leaving them on the table, the host returns with a glass of dark amber liquid and places it back on the table.

“He’s clear.” The two words cause me to release some of the tension I’m holding. The second man takes his leave without another word.

Pity. I’m going to miss his chatty personality.

“May I?" I ask, pointing to the items.

“Of course. Apologies for the formality. One can never be too careful,” he says with no remorse in his tone. I nod, gathering the items back into my pocket, leaving the powered-off phone visible on the table in a show of good faith before I take a seat on the side of the booth that’s just been vacated.

It takes all my focus to appear calm as I settle into the plush leather seat. I place my hands together and lean on the table giving him my undivided attention. He taps two fingers against the side of his glass, silently assessing me. The moment drags while I wonder if he’s expecting me to start.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks, gesturing to the bar behind him to get a waiter’s attention.

“An old fashioned with Four Roses Small Batch, extra bitter. Thank you,” I respond directly to the man, who nods and heads back to the bar without writing anything down. It’s my dad’s favorite drink, the first one he and I shared when I turned twenty-one. While I usually wouldn’t start with it, I wanted to be seen as his equal, and I didn’t think a generic beer would sound impressive, though that's usually what's available when you hang out with college students.

“A traditionalist. I would’ve guessed some California-based IPA like the Silicon Valley tech crowd tends to lean toward,” he says, though more thinking out loud than addressing me. I don’t respond but rather lift a shoulder in nonchalance.

“I appreciate you meeting with me. I’ve been meaning to have a face-to-face for a while, but unfortunately, my schedule hasn’t been very accommodating.” He picks up his drink, taking a short pull before continuing, his accent showing more as he speaks.

“I believe you worked rather closely with my nephew, Kole,” he states, not asking a question but pausing all the same before continuing, “While he has been unreachable of late, he relayed to us how valuable you’ve been, and we’ve seen first hand some of your results. May I ask when was the last time he contacted you?”

“K? Well, it has to have been a few weeks now. Two? Maybe three? He set me up with the program's code to dive in and figure out what else needed to be completed. I only had it a day or so before the warehouse was hit, and whoever came in took everything. I tried contacting him a million times since then, but I haven’t heard back,” I say, careful to keep the story to only the facts I should know, rather than the whole story. He tilts his head at the information, his eyes squinting as if contemplating something or covering up his surprise.

“And while you had this software, what did you uncover?” The way he says “this software” leads me to believe I’ve just stepped further into this than I should’ve.

He didn’t know about the stolen code.

“Unfortunately, I’d barely been able to get any of it to load or initialize before it was taken. I can tell you whoever wrote it was brilliant. It was by far some of the most complex code I’ve ever worked with,” I state, secretly hoping the team in my ear will relay that to whoever on their team actually wrote it. I’d kill to have access to it again and to see it fully functioning.

“I see. Well, if we can locate whoever stole it from you, we’ll have to get you back onto the project,” he states, clearly interested. “Did my nephew give you a timeline or any requirements for the job?”

“The job info he included with the software just specified that he needed me to see how close to functional the code was since the original engineer was no longer on the project, and it needed to be tested before release. I never got far enough in to see what exactly it was supposed to do, but I can tell you I would’ve needed specialized hardware that I don't have access to, to even get it fully running.” I shrug, taking another slow sip of my drink.

“Interesting.” He shifts his focus over my shoulder, lifting his chin slightly, and our chatty friend returns, leaning over as the boss speaks in a whisper to him. What I can make out sounds like he’s talking entirely in Italian, so I wouldn’t have understood it even if he had spoken at a normal volume. The man nods and walks off again without acknowledging me at all.

“Anyway, I reached out to you because the work you’ve completed for us has been nothing short of exemplary. In fact, it’s so good that I’ll require more of your focused attention going forward.” He stops, taking in my reaction, which I try to temp down.

“I, uh, thank you?” I stutter out, not sure what he’s asking of me. “Look, I don’t mean to come off ungrateful, the work has been a decent source of income and all, but I have a full-time job. Not only that, I have no idea who you are or who I’ve been working for. This work was originally me helping out a buddy of mine in my free time for some extra cash; from what I can tell, he has up and vanished. That, and my last assignment left me unconscious in an office with my phone, wallet, and everything I was working on stolen. No offense, but I’m not sure I’m interested in continuing in this sort of work.” I aim to be polite in my delivery, hoping the blunt statement doesn’t offend him.

He settles back against his seat, slowly nodding at me as he allows time for my drink to be set down and the waiter to leave us again.

“My apologies. It must be confusing, but you know as well as I do, with the type of work we engage in, these things can happen and are to be expected from time to time. I’ll add an advance for new communication devices for your trouble. To the question of who you’ve been working for, you may call me Marlo. I own a consulting business up north.” As he speaks, he pulls a card from his wallet and slides it over to me.

The card is glossy, thick, black, cardstock with silver calligraphy and boasts a wolf logo on the front.

I flip it over in my hands and see a PO Box Address located in Reno, Nevada.

“What exactly do you consult on?” I ask, setting the card down in front of me and picking up my drink because I know deep down this business is entirely a front for the less-than-legal activities they involve themselves in.

“Most of our work is in acquisitions, but we operate across many industries. We help guide companies or individuals that lose their way,” he says with such smooth delivery, I can tell this is a well-practiced lie, rehearsed and delivered like a script.

Acquisitions? So… theft. They steal companies.

“And, what is it you want from me?” I question, still unsure why he’s risking meeting me to continue my employment rather than sending me the information.

“Currently, I have an urgent need to adjust some identities. I have a few people who need a fresh start. Is this something you could handle?” He asks, knowing full well I have the capability.

---