Chapter Four: The Man Who Knew Me

It was the day I walked into the building that he took note of me. No—probably before, back when I was first contacted. That was when he learned of my existence. I didn't know him, but he was determined to know me. He was aware of my failures and the successes that outweighed them. He knew of my personality, my goals, and given his talent for the job, he may have known what was going through my mind.

It was not my charisma that had piqued the suspicions of the man, nor was it my extensive connections. It was all the things he couldn’t figure out. It was my meeting with the boss. I wasn’t the only one the man had an eye on, but there weren’t many who were called up to the top floor. It was lucky for me he hadn’t looked too closely at my first meeting with Amahle, but he was looking now, and he was driven by some sort of demon to not let anything pass him by.

“Good morning,” I said to the receptionist. It was a cold, bright morning. Such was to be expected of the season. I held in my hand a half-full cup of coffee.

“And to you, Mr. Hensley,” replied the receptionist. I stopped.

“I haven’t met you before. Are you new?”

“I’ve worked here for a while. I think our paths just haven’t crossed. My name is Cordovan Herring.” He was young, with a sharp face and a striped bowtie.

“Ah, well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Cordovan. Is Will okay?” I asked. Cordovan nodded calmly.

“Just a short break from what I’ve heard. I’m sure everything is okay.” He studied my face as if waiting for a certain response. I gave him nothing. I was hoping that, unlike Amahle, Will would be reachable. “Mr. Hensley, there’s someone here to see you.”

“Here?”

“Not inside. She told me to have you meet her outside.”

“Are you sure she’s here for me?” I questioned, already feeling a dread set in.

“Absolutely,” he droned. “I’ve never met someone that stern. Even so, she left a note so there would be no doubt.” He held up a piece of paper, which drew from my mouth an instinctual sigh. I took the note, stuffing it in my front pocket. “Is this bad news?” asked Cordovan.

“Let’s hope not.”

I walked back into the brisk morning air. I hadn’t brought a coat for the short commute, instead relying on my blazer and a warm coffee. I was worried, and for good reason. I had been asked to commit a crime, after all. I couldn't imagine this meeting being about anything else. What brought me some calm, however, was that this wasn't the first time I had felt this way. I searched the surrounding area. Before I could say anything, a voice called out.

"Nathaniel Hensley." It wasn't a question like they weren't sure of my existence. It was a command to start the conversation.

"Henrietta! It's wonderful to see you!" I responded with as fake a smile as I could muster. She glared back at me, clearly annoyed. "Detective Henrietta," I amended.

"You look stressed," Henrietta said bluntly. Her brashness was her flaw and her strength, and the reason she had never mixed her personal and professional life.

"And you look fantastic!" I said enthusiastically. I held up the paper so she could see.

"Any reason you wrote 'GRAY' in such a large font? It’s somehow clear and vague at the same time. Downright creepy."

"I thought it was clear. My last name is Gray, and it fits the tone of my visit," she replied. I almost made a quip about her attempted wordplay, but I thought better of it.

"Visit? This is casual?" I questioned with some hope.

"This time around, yes." She reached into her pocket. Out of it came a cellphone, scratched up and dirty. "I did find this earlier, if you're interested." Her following stare was meant to catch any distress on my face. It was a game we had played far too often.

"You need to upgrade," I replied casually.

"Nathaniel, you called this a week ago." Henrietta sighed, letting slip her constant aura of criticism. "I tracked it down to a damn cargo ship, which was no fun at all. Now tell me, what was the call for?"

"Wrong number," I said. She didn't turn angry, which was new.

"Nathaniel, how long have I known you?" she asked. Not 'how long have we known each other'. To her, I was something she observed. My actions were recorded for future reference and prediction. I wasn't more than a science experiment.

"Well, it's hard to tell when the years have been so wonderful. Time flies when having fun. It disappears when you're around, Henrietta."

"Ten years," said the conversational equivalent of a rock.

"Alright then."

"Ten years, and you still think you're smarter than I am. I don't get sad, but if I were capable of such an emotion, I might feel sad for you."

"That's not really sadness, though, is it? It's more like, I dunno, sympathy."

"Who did you call?" Henrietta was always like this, ignoring what I said if it wasn't the answer she wanted. On occasion, I wondered what it was like to go on a date with her. Those occasions were rare.

"What I'm wondering is, do you track down every call that I make? Now I feel bad for all those delivery drivers. I should tip them more.” I waited for a laugh that would never arrive. “Wasn’t this visit casual?"

"This call, Nathaniel, was made to someone I don't know. It's quite clear you're hiding it, so stop making jokes."

"Okay, fine. It was a work call," I stated firmly.

"Work?" For the first time in quite some years, Henrietta looked surprised. "I know what you do here, convincing the socially inept to buy overpriced tech."

"Bit insulting, but fair enough."

"What part of that requires you to do something that is worth hiding?"

"I do apologize Detective Henrietta, but that is a company secret." She stared at me for a few seconds, then pulled out her wallet. She retrieved a card, scribbling on it with a pen she had apparently kept from the lobby.

"Nathaniel, I will never trust you."

"Oh, thanks."

"However, I don't trust anybody. If you are in trouble, if you are close to returning to old habits..." she looked away as my eyes sharpened. However, it only lasted a moment. She held out the card.

"Henrietta, I appreciate it." I took the card and stuffed it in my breast pocket.

"I'll be around, so don't be too comfortable."

This was how it always was with Henrietta. She was one of the most difficult people to speak to, but she wasn't evil. She walked away without a wave and was gone in a flash. I sighed, knowing that at least she didn't know too much. I straightened my tie, took a sip of my coffee, which was now beginning to match the temperature around me, and returned to my job.

Around the corner, a man put away his camera. Antler phones had so many features, it was easy to forget they could capture audio from a distance. The man lucked out following Nathaniel today. Most days, it revealed nothing. A few times, he was almost caught by the sudden leering and scanning of paranoid prey. However, that only fueled the man more. If Nathaniel had nothing to be nervous about, he wouldn’t be checking to see if he was being stalked.

Such was the logic that went through his brain.

He was aware that anyone who met with Anders Askeland would be shaken, but not just anyone met with a mysterious figure who was also a detective so soon afterward. Such a discovery was enough to justify any odd logic he had concocted. Now the only step was digging deeper. Nathaniel walked away from the meeting and back to Antler. No need to follow him. There was someone far more important to tail.

The man waited until Nathaniel had rounded the block before he set out. He didn’t want to be seen. The detective had only gone a street over before the man saw her. She was waiting for a cab. Knowing this city, she would find one too soon. He ran.

“Detective Henrietta!” The man yelled. She turned her head.

“You-”

“Yea, yea. Good to see you again,” he interrupted. Her jaw clenched.

“What do you want?”

“I overheard your conversation. Where exactly do you usually do your detective work?”

“Seems like you didn’t hear my question.” A car pulled up, and Henrietta opened the door.

“Wait!” The man yelped. He thought that her demeanor was perhaps her relationship with Nathaniel. Instead, it seemed like her default mode. “I want to make a deal. It’s about your criminal.”

Henrietta took her hand off the car. She stepped back, looking the man in the eye. Then, she sighed. It went on so long that the man was unsure if she was going to pass out from deflation.

“Who are you talking about?” She questioned, straight-faced. He hoped she would come out and confirm his suspicions, but perhaps there was more to it. For some reason, she was protecting Nathaniel.

“Fine, you don’t have to tell me that. What I’ll tell you is what you want to know: what Nathaniel Hensley has been up to. Who he’s met with, what he’s working on, and where he’s going to be,” the man explained. Henrietta stared at him, still as could be. He waited for her to say something, feeling a pressure building. He couldn’t tell if she was frustrated or mulling something over. “What I want in return,” he added preemptively, “is to know his background. I want to know why a detective is coming all this way to ask him such a simple question.”

“Did you know that not only is stalking illegal, but it’s also creepy? It doesn’t make you a hero, and it definitely doesn’t make you cool.” The man said nothing. “It’s odd how many people forget that, especially when talking to a detective. It really makes me question—well, everything. So just to get this straight, you stopped me to ask for information on a man you are already stalking? Are you in love with him?”

“You’re not arresting me, so I imagine you’re considering it.”

“You’re misinformed,” the detective replied. “Quite misinformed. I’m not a walking biography. If you want to tell me your information, go ahead. Don’t expect anything in return.”

The man glared at Henrietta. She didn’t change expression. The two of them were speaking past each other, both stubborn in their bargaining. It was true that she had leverage—that much was announced when he ran up begging for a deal. However, it was clear that she was not against Nathaniel, and perhaps even on his side. There was no guarantee how she would use the information he had. He didn’t know her motivations, except for one. He took a breath.

“I know who he was calling.”

I walked back into the lobby, now empty. It was strange, but I didn’t have the energy to consider where everyone went. I threw away my unfinished coffee. I didn’t need extra help waking up. If anything, I needed to bring my adrenaline down, though there was next to no chance my coworkers would notice anything wrong. There were only a few people I knew that could read me, and most worked at this company. The other had given me a card, which I forgot to even read. I pulled out the flimsy piece of paper. I expected her to have a proper business card, but the more I thought about it, this was a better fit. She wasn’t a proper business kind of person.

I studied her messy, all-caps handwriting. I resisted the urge to curse, despite nobody being around me.

‘You’re being followed.’

Henrietta always had the worst news.