I woke up in the morning feeling brain dead. Looking at the clock informed me that I had slept for all of three hours, so that was to be expected.

Last night finishing up the diary had taken me three hours rather than the one I had predicted. And then there had been that hour long call with Tasha, where I had told her everything and she had told me her wise views on the matter--view that left me no wiser than when I started.

I refrained from telling her about the man named Christopher Rodwell though, contrary to what I had planned earlier. I had no idea what it was I was going to tell, and saying 'I think you boyfriend is doing something sinister' sounded terribly like it would get my head bitten off.

The alarm beside said head blared up again. I pulled my hand out of the warm blankets like a corpse and let it fall on top of it with a vengeance. It shut up and then toppled over, crashing onto the floor.

I buried my face into my pillow and groaned.

"Mommy?" Ella said from somewhere to my right. "If you don't get up soon you are going to be very late. And this is only your second day."

Why, oh why, did I have to have a smartass daughter?

"I am trying to getting up," I moaned. "My body just won't cooperate."

"Is that so? I could call Aunty Tasha for you then. I am sure she could get you out of there."

"Don't you dare threaten me, you little tyke," I warned.

"I am going to call right now. I have the phone in my hand. And I know the number and everything."

My head shot off the bed. Ella stood in the doorway, far away from the grab-range of my fingers, already dressed in her navy blue skirt and white shirt. She waved the phone in my face.

"I just pressed the first number," she called when she saw the expression on my face.

"Do you have a death wish, girl?" I asked through clenched teeth. "I am not really in the mood for jokes right now." I let my head fall back on the pillow. She won't do it, of course.

Would she?

"I just pressed the second number."

I didn't move.

"And the third, fourth and fifth."

"Go away, Ella."

"Sixth..."

"Ella, I will buy you a huge bar of chocolate if you go away."

"Seventh...."

"Fine!" I sat up in bed, furious. My hair fell around my face like a dead bird's nest. "Fine! I am up. Now get lost."

"You need to get all the way up. I have pressed all the numbers now and my finger is inching towards the call button." She showed me her finger moving in slow-motion so that I knew she wasn't bluffing.

"Ella..." I pleaded, a desperate warning in my voice.

"My finger is still moving..." 

"Why can't you act like a normal four-year old, for God's sake!" I screamed. "Our roles should be reversed."

"My finger is on the green button now. I just have to press..." She ignored my exclamation, eyes wide with the horror of what she was doing.

"Fine! I am out of the bed now!" I exploded, leaping off and holding up my hands in surrender. "You win! Now give me the phone!"

"Get in the bathroom. I will get your things ready."

"What?"

She held the phone up again. "The bathroom."

I went, grumbling about high IQ gifted four-year olds taking over the world.

***

One hour and a bowl of cardboard-like cereals later, I shuffled up to Geric's desk and offered him a good morning.

He looked up from the magazine he was reading and grinned at me.

"Good morning," he said. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

I thought about the snow falling like tear drops outside. "Depends on your perspective, I guess."

He shrugged.

I walked up to Mr. Rodwell's office and remembered to knock this time.

"Come in," came his voice from inside.

I entered and found him standing by the windows, looking at the city of New York spread out before him like a child's city of blocks. His navy blue suit looked almost black from behind.

I scowled. This is why I had wanted a floor to ceiling window too. People look so powerful and amazing when they look out of the window like that. Handsome and deadly at the same time, like they could move mountains and found and devastate towns with the flick of a finger if they so wished.

I should stop watching so many movies.

"Good morning, Mr. Rodwell," I said.

"I don't see anything good about this morning, Miss Mahal," he said conversationaly, not turning around. "The Gramphey campaign has caused me three million dollars already, and if the stock market stays this way, I am set to lose a million more. All part of the strategy, of course. But it sure is a nuisance. What was it that you found good about this morning again?" He buried his hands in his pockets.

"I was greeting you, sir. You don't really have to turn everything into a joke."

"A joke?" he asked, turning around with an incredulous expression. "You think I am joking, Miss Mahal? Have you ever lost four million dollars in one morning?"

He lost all that in one morning? As part of a strategy?

"I've never had four million dollars to lose, Mr. Rodwell."

"Then please don't assume I make a joke about my investments. This is serious business; one you can never hope to understand."

"Why, thank you, sir," I said with mock graciousness, sweeping a hand. "You sure have a way of encouraging your employees."

"I expect my employees to bring with them all the courage they will need before they enter my building, Miss Mahal."

"Ever heard of keeping your expectations low?" I asked.

"No," he said, shrugging his right shoulder.

I shrugged too, starting towards my office. What did I hope to gain from bantering with him anyways? It wasn't like it affected him one way or the other.

"Miss Mahal?" His voice stopped me in my tracks. "Did you finish the arrangement of my appointments?"

"Of course," I said.

"Please get them to me right away then."

I entered my office and stopped short.

"Hey," I called. "There's a big hulking monster in my office, did you know?"

"Please, Miss Mahal, your sense of humour is really dry. That's a printer."

"Want to tell me what it is doing here?" I asked, staring at the strange contraption.

"You did not think the only thing you would be doing working for me was organize my obligations, did you?" Was it just me or did he sound like he was enjoying himself? "That's for the other jobs I might find for you. I have some more equipment coming in later."

Oh. Fine then. Let's see what he says when he finds out I had no idea how to operate the damned machine.

I dropped my bag on the table, removed my abaya, got both the books out and returned to the main office, dropping the books on his table with twin thumps.

"Here you go. All done."

He turned in his ornate wing-backed chair and picked up the new book. Opening it at random, he looked at the neatly labelled months and the entries underneath. Then he looks up at me.

"This looks to be fairly in order."

"Compared to what you had, anything would have been in order," I mumbled. "I will have it on my computer soon so that it's secure. We can burn the book later."

He nodded. "Alright, the--"

"Mr. Rodwell? Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you can't, Miss Mahal." He flipped to the next page.

"This is really import--"

He looked up, brows dipped. "You asked me if you could ask me a question and I said no. Why are you arguing back?"

I felt my temper flare. How the hell could this guy do it every time we talked?

"Alright, then, sir. I am going to ask you a question. Is that better?"

His eyes narrowed. "Decidedly not."

"I am still going to do it," I said.

"I will no--"

"Why are you meeting with Fredrick Bosley?" I asked before he could get his words out.

There was silence. Something dark descended on his brow.

When he didn't answer for some time and his eyes started making me uneasy, I decided to push forward regardless. "Fred Bosley is a horrible individual," I said. "I am just curious what a successful businessman like yourself would want with a slimy worm like him." I looked at him expectantly.

He didn't reply.

"Okay, then," I pushed. "I will tell you something. You know I used to work as a dish-washer before now? Well, what you don't know is that I used to work for Fred Bosley," I declared. "Until last night, that is. Last night he beat up this other waitress who worked with me. He broke her nose. You can understand why I am curious as to what you would want with him." I looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Can't you?"

Something slammed shut in his expression. He settled back in his chair like a sultan in his harem.

"Miss Mahal, I think it is time that we lay down some ground rules here, don't you think so?"

"What?" Where did that come from?

He ignored me. "Number one," his index finger sprang from his fist, "do not ask me unnecessary questions. Number two," the middle finger joined the first, "do not ask me unnecessary questions. And finally, number three, the most important of them all," his ring finger rose. "Do not ever, under any circumstances, ask me unnecessary questions. Is that understood, Miss Mahal?"

I felt my face light up like a Christmas tree.

"I--"

"I will take that as a yes. Now, please take this paper and get seven copies printed out, then take them to Geric outside and tell him to hand them to the Deputy of Public Relations." Saying that, he picked up his pen and started scribbling away at a paper in front of him, his dismissal apparent in every gesture.

I stood rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do. I couldn't believe he could be so cold. I had only wanted to help. How could he just rebuff me like that?

"Go, Miss Mahal."

I went. As I wrestled with the multitude of buttons of the bloody printer, I vowed to not say a word to him the whole morning.

***

It was two weeks after this civilised discussion that Christopher Rodwell came to Rodwell & Sons Enterprises. Two weeks in which Mr. Alexander Rodwell yelled at me twenty times, threatened to fire me ten million times, told me he regretted ever hiring me six times, and made Geric almost pee himself three times.

I was sitting in my office after lunch, chewing at the end of a pencil and contemplating how long it would take the police to figure me out if I killed him. According to the recent plan in my head, I calculated two hours. Letting my head fall back, I sighed. At least this one was better than the first plan I had--which included using a machine gun to make a hole in the window and throw him out. That would have gotten me caught in two minutes flat.

The phone rang on my desk.

Geric had recently shown me how to operate it and what buttons to press when I wanted to connect with him, or Bob in the lobby, or even Mr. Rodwell in the other office--I drew a cross over that button with a thick black marker. The button from Geric was glowing. I picked up the phone.

"Geric from reception, this is Zara from inner office. What is your request? Over," I said, using my best robot voice.

I could hear the silent laughter in Geric's voice as he tried hard to remain profession. "Yes, Zara. Christopher Rodwell is here to see Mr. Rodwell. Is he free?" Mr. Rodwell did not like being disturbed by all the people who came to see him. So, first Geric had to call me and ask if Mr. Rodwell was in a mood to receive, and only then show the people through.

"Who?" I asked, the robot voice forgotten in an instance.

"Er... Christopher Rodwell, Zara," he whispered. "He's waiting out here and he doesn't look very happy to be kept waiting. Please get me a yes right now," he begged.

"Okay." My hand shook slightly as I placed the phone back. Christopher Rodwell.

This one was sure to be Mr. Rodwell's brother and Tasha's boyfriend. I would finally find out if I was right.

I got up and went to the main office. Mr. Rodwell was sitting at his desk, leafing through a thick file.

"Christopher Rodwell is here to see you," I said. "Should I ask Geric to send him in?"

He froze for a moment, his expression showing just the slightest bit of puzzlement. "Christopher?" he asked, like he wasn't sure he had heard me right.

"Yes, him. Something wrong with your hearing?" I asked. It had become almost a tradition to throw insults back and forth between us. He might have been a sour pain, but I liked the fact that he had a nice humour and could take as good as he could give. It made me feel much more comfortable around him.

He looked up now, giving me his version of a stink eye--which, for him, was just an eye. I steeled myself for a rebuke, but all he said was, "Tell Geric to send him in." It might have been hard to guess, but he really does not like using his phone.

"Okay," I said, going back inside to carry out my orders.

"Thank you so much, Zara. I think he was going to try to kill me in about a minute," Geric whispered furiously in my ear when he heard the positive answer. "Yes, Mr. Rodwell," he said to the other, "you may go in."

A minute later the door to the inner office opened. I didn't know if it would be alright to go out and see who it was. Mr. Rodwell usually took his meetings in the conference rooms and brought only his personal meetings here. Since I had started, there had been no one who filled that category. Until now it seemed.

"Christopher," Mr. Rodwell's voice sounded through the door, muffled. I think my ears grew a few inches longer, trying to listen.

"Alexander. It's been a long time." Was it the same voice I remembered? I couldn't be sure. I listened harder.

"Not by my accounts, brother. I like my long times to last forever." I couldn't hear a joking lilt in his voice.

There was a slight pause, and then the characteristic poof of someone sitting down on a stuffy couch. Then, "You know I couldn't agree more. But times and circumstances insisted."

"Is that so? I thought we were of an understanding that we would meet only when the need was very urgent. Nothing's been put into motion yet, so why are you here?" The clatter of a pen on the table sounded, and I imagine Mr. Rodwell leaning back and giving his brother his full attention.

"They found it."

Alright, alright, alright, I told my heart, calm down. So he's the same man. That's fine. Don't give yourself away by shrieking now!

"When?" I could almost feel the palpable waves of interest flowing off Mr. Rodwell--my boss kind.

"Two weeks ago."

Pause. "And you're telling me now?"

"I had to make sure it was the right one. It was coded pretty tight. Angelica was good at what she did."

"It took you two weeks to crack a code?" There was mocking derision in Mr. Rodwell's voice. "I think you should be ashamed, Chris."

"You won't have done any better, Alexander."

"Are you sure?" I could hear the self-satisfied smile in his voice.

There was a pause.

"Let me rephrase. You won't have done any better, Alexander, using legal routes."

What did that mean? Besides the obvious, of course.

"It gets work done, Christopher. And nobody gets hurt. It's a win-win arrangement."

"It's immoral," Christopher Rodwell protested.

Huh?

"Depends on your perspective. Mine says it's the better end of the stick."

There was a huff. "I didn't come here to have this conversation, Alexander."

"Then why did you? You can leave anytime you want, you know. Just walk out the door and never come back."

"I came here to tell you that the circumstances have changed." There was a pause. I imagined the Christopher Rodwell I had seen lean forward in earnest. "If we want to catch him, we need to step up our game. We have the proof now. When are you going to fulfil your end of the deal?"

"Soon. But you know we have to be careful. One wrong or hasty move and our game's up. And we have to remember that we don't know why he's here, yet. Don't underestimate that wild card. That's what people like you always do. And we know the results you get, don't we?" There was a decided smile in Mr. Rodwell's tone.

"Alexander, the longer we wait, the more variables add up in this mission! It's a risk we don't need to take. And you know what and who I am talking about."

"My dear Christopher, I understand that you are
hopelessly besotted with the girl, but that does not mean I will endanger the success of my mission because of your love life." A heavy chair scrapped back. Had he gotten up? "You should have thought about this earlier, before you went ahead and did something so foolhardy."

Christopher's love life... Tasha?

"Be careful what you say, Alex, I am warning you. And now that we are talking about being besotted, what of the other girl? You haven't let her go still, have you? She's served her purpose. You have the proof. Why keep her then?"

"I need her."

"Lie to yourself all you want, but please spare me the embarrassment. You need her?" A gravelly laugh rumbled through the door and reached my ears. "You haven't needed anyone to help you run the business since you stepped into it. And you have Geric to do the little bits that you do need assistance with. She's a dead weight you're carrying. I wonder why." There was smugness in every word that left that mouth.

Wait, who were they talking about? This sounded too familiar. My heart started pounding so fast I could feel it bruising my ribs. My head hurt.

"I am not an idiot like you, Christopher. I have my priorities. She isn't my type anyways." My heart stopped beating, having run headfirst into a tree. "Don't worry, she serves her purpose."

Christopher still spoke in that smug tone. "Would you be so kind as to tell me what that elusive purpose is?"

"No. And I am starting to think you have exhausted your welcome, Christopher. Now, please leave."

"Exhausted my welcome? There was a welcome? I was under the impression that there wasn't any."

"There wasn't. But I still obliged. Now, leave. I don't want to be seen throwing you out. Might seem like a blemish on the Rodwell name, according to mother. We already have too much of that, as it is."

"You're right." Christopher Rodwell didn't sound so mocking anymore. There was a seriousness in his voice that made my body go cold. "About the blemish. We have to hurry, Alexander. We can't lose this chance."

"I know we can't. And I don't plan to. But rushing in like a maniac won't get us anywhere."

"For your sake, Alexander, I hope you're right."

There weren't any goodbyes. One moment the conversation was going on full swing, and then the next the door was clicking shut. There was utter silence in the room after that click. I dared not move, fearing I might alert him to my presence.

Silence.

Silence.

"How much of that conversation did you hear, Miss Mahal?"

"None at all," I hurried to reassure, my voice creaking. Then I realised what I had said. I would have happily eaten my stupid tongue for that.

Pause.

"Interesting," he said. "Please bring me the Coleman file, will you?"

And the work continued, like the most bizarre conversation in my life hadn't happened. Mr. Alexander Rodwell didn't say a word about it.

I could feel my feet sinking deeper and deeper into a quicksand I had no idea how to pull myself out from.

***

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