The Stranger, Mark Ayre [microsoft ebook reader .TXT] 📗

She wanted to tell Ben to piss off.

She said, “I’m alone in my hotel room.”

“Excellent. We can talk candidly.”

Abbie said nothing. She and Ben did not speak often. Whenever Abbie needed to communicate with those who had set up her fake job and who paid her wages and expenses, Ben was the one to whom she spoke. He was the only one she had met and, although he occasionally obliquely referenced other people, he never said any names or even indicated genders.

“Have you nothing to say?” he asked.

“I assumed you called to chastise me,” Abbie said. “I thought you’d want to get that out of the way before we discussed my thing.”

A light chuckle. “Oh, Abagail. No need to sound so sullen.”

On more than one occasion, Abbie had wondered if Ben might not be the top dog in the organisation that supported and employed Abbie. Potentially he had inherited a fortune and used it to support Abbie, or her and others. Each time she analysed this possibility, she disregarded it. To suggest Ben was the top man or woman in an organisation with such wealth and resource would be to attribute too much importance to Abbie. She was a puppet for this conglomerate. She doubted Ben was much more than middle management.

“It was an error in judgment,” she said, feeling her jaw tighten in annoyance though Ben had yet to reprimand her. “There were two thugs with whom I had to deal. I’m guessing you’ve never tried to fight with a drawstring bag over your shoulder?”

“It has been many years since I have been in a fight of any description,” said Ben. “But no, I don’t believe I ever partook in a fight with a drawstring bag over my shoulder. Certainly not a drawstring bag containing a precious possession I could not face damaging.”

Abbie fought the urge to grit her teeth. Years ago, she had mentioned The Stand to Ben in passing, along with what it meant. This was before Abbie knew Ben noted everything, no matter how small, and remembered just as much. She was more careful now, but on The Stand front, the damage was done.

“The thief was incapacitated when I took on the thugs,” said Abbie. “By the time I had finished them off, he was gone.”

“Not that incapacitated then.”

“As I said, it was an error in judgement. It won’t happen again.”

“And that we are speaking with one another indicates you have resolved the issue. No longer does this thief possess anything that is yours.”

It was unlikely but not impossible that Ben had Abbie under surveillance. Whether he did or he didn’t, Abbie usually regretted lying to this representative of her employers.

“He retains one item.”

“Incriminating?”

“Probably not for me. Definitely not a problem for you.”

“If it’s a problem for you, it’s a problem for me. Do you need help resolving this matter?”

“No.” She tried to be forceful but not sound petty or desperate. She was unsure if she had hit the mark.

For a time, Ben said nothing. Maybe he was waiting for her, but there was no chance Abbie was speaking next. It was his turn.

At last, he said, “Are you currently involved in a mission?”

“Yes.”

“Day one or two?”

“One.”

“Confident?”

“Yes.”

More silence. More consideration.

“The last time you failed—“

“This isn’t like that,” Abbie cut in. “This thief is not an issue. If needs be, I’ll deal with him once I’ve completed my mission. I don’t believe it will come to that.”

More silence. Ben deciding if he would trust her or if he felt the need to intervene. She prayed he would fall down on the side of trust but knew there was nothing more she could say to sway his mind.

“Okay,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“You know my concern is not for myself but for you.”

This was a lie. Abbie said nothing.

“We support you in every mission, but we know no one is perfect. You will always miss out occasionally. I worry not because of what it means for us, but because of what it means for you.”

Abbie considered ignoring this comment. Eventually went with, “You needn’t worry. I know the risks. I might succeed or fail tomorrow to save this man’s life. If I fail, it will not be down to distraction, and if I fail, I will take the consequences. I’ll deserve them.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, darling.”

Abbie closed her eyes. She hated when Ben spoke to her as though she were his daughter, though she were young enough to be. Ben, as a father, was a frightening prospect. Not that her real dad had been up to much.

“Can we talk about why I rang?” she asked.

“Before we do,” said Ben. “I have one more point to make about the thief.”

Abbie thought she knew what this point would be. Said nothing—no reason to argue before she’d heard him out.

“When you reclaim what he has taken, I trust you will use your judgment regarding what to do with him?”

Abbie drummed her fingers on the phone. Did not reply.

“You’re a good person, Abagail. You won’t want to hear this, but if you fear he knows enough to compromise you—“

“If you’re going to suggest what I think you’re going to suggest, I’d stop now,” she said. “I wouldn’t want us to fall out.”

“He stole from you,” said Ben. “I spoke to him for mere seconds and heard in his voice arrogance, contempt. He seemed a nasty piece of work.”

“He’s a shit,” said Abbie. “But being a shit is not grounds for execution, and I won’t do it.”

Ben wanted to argue. Abbie could almost hear it in the silence. He knew her well enough to understand some battles were not worth fighting. Certain lines she would not cross.

“On your head,” he said.

“Understood.”

“So why don’t you tell me about this project,” said Ben. “You want 25k? That’s a lot of money.”

Abbie suddenly knew this was not a good idea. Ben was a stern man who seemed to be mostly without emotion. Earlier, he might have been in a favourable mood.