Page 22 of Her Faithful Protector

“I worked as a PSC at various US installations overseas.”

“Impressive.” The lady nods, although her tentative face says she’s unsure what PSC means. I guess it can refer to anything from Private Security Contractor to Paranoid Snake Charmer. She hands me a tablet and gestures toward the screen, saying, “Scan the QR code for the online form.”

I pretend to scan it while studying the big, backlit W-Botlogo behind her. “Has the company rebranded?” I ask casually.

“What do you mean?”

“The logo. It looks different.”

The receptionist chuckles. “You have a sharp eye! Well, actually, the logo did change a few months ago.”

“The background, does it represent a microchip or something?”

“Good guess, but not quite. You see, behind the ‘B,’ there’s a faint sketch of Mr. Botha’s profile. His fiancée drew it.”

I squint, attempting to discern the lines. A company logo often reflects its owner as much as its philosophy. My question about rebranding would always be relevant—either the answer was a yes or a no. It was more sophisticated than asking bluntly, ‘What does your logo mean?’

So, W-Bot not only bears Willem’s name but also encapsulates his face. He is the central figure in everything, serving both the symbol and the substance. I wonder what Ava must’ve gone through when she decided to leave him. First, she chose freedom instead of riches. Second, she showed remarkable courage by breaking the chains of his control. She’s stronger than steel, yet she’s as delicate as a rose.

Acting like I’m completing the form on my phone, I take in my surroundings and listen to conversations. Willem is currently out for a lunch appointment. So, it seems the departed man has returned to satisfy his hunger, possibly craving his favorite sandwich.

I inform the receptionist that I’ve submitted my application, then leave the building. I immediately call Ava and tell her, “Willem is alive.”

She gasps. “Oh, thank God!” She pauses to catch her breath. “Where is he?”

“I haven’t seen him, but I just left the W-Bot headquarters and overheard his name being mentioned.”

“Jesus, Jack. Don’t let him see you.”

“He’s not there. But I’m applying for a position as a security guard.”

“You didn’t get the job on the spot, did you?”

I chuckle. “Look, he’s apparently out for lunch. Do you know where he usually goes?”

“Either Flavio’s or Mamasita, around the corner. Or, if he’s with a client, he usually takes them to Fountain, two blocks away,” she explains. Then she sighs, “Jack…”

“Yes, Ava?”

“I managed to sketch the kidnappers.”

“Good job!”

“Sam has seen them, and he’ll try to use face recognition to identify them. I’m going to send them to you now.”

I open the message and gaze at the sketches. Just like her other works, the faces are astonishingly lifelike. The person has a thick beard and beady eyes, which are nearly engulfed by his equally bushy eyebrows. The other has a round face and full lips, giving off a strong, imposing vibe.

“We’ll find Willem, and we’ll track down these men. Then, we’ll bring Quinton back home, I promise,” I say through gritted teeth as I walk around the locality to investigate the three restaurants she suggested. At Fountain, I spot Willem walking through the door alone, then taking a seat at a table set for seven.

“Hey, I have to go,” I say and end the call.

Dressed in a pinstripe suit, he blends in with the other businessmen in L.A. He’s fit, probably a testament to his gym membership, and has a clean-shaven face with sleek black hair. He walks confidently, although he appears shorter than I initially imagined—maybe even shorter than Ava.

I enter the restaurant and request a table. After being presented with a few options, I choose one that provides both privacy and the ability to eavesdrop on their conversation. Without flinching at the steep prices, I place my order just like any ordinary customer. I suppose a prestigious three-star Michelin restaurant in the heart of Los Angeles is allowed to command such premiums.

While observing Willem, I fiddle with my phone, pretending to be engrossed in something important. Then, a new sketch arrives from Ava.

This time, it makes me smile.

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