Learning to Trust: Curtain Falls Page 3

  "Okay, okay," I said again. I used the bathroom and then quickly washed my hands, taking a moment to look at myself; I realized that it might be the last time I ever got the chance. I looked worn and used, the victim of a complex set of rules and obligations. Dark circles hung beneath my eyes and my hair was an absolute mess. I fought the urge to cry harder than I ever had in my life—I didn't want Frederic to see my weakness, not now. I was mad...and that was exactly I wanted him to see.

  I finally walked out, my composure the best it could be given the circumstances. My eyes, full of hostility, locked with Frederic's. "You ready now?" His voice was suddenly filled with timidity. Maybe I had actually intimidated him—or he just calmed down.

  "Yeah. Where are we going?" I swallowed and realized I probably wouldn't be able to maintain rage very long.

  "I can't tell you that. We'll be there soon enough. C'mon. Please be cooperative so I don't have to—"

  "To what?" I said venomously, cutting him off. "Kill me?"

  "Marisa, come on, I'm not going to—"

  "Go to hell," I said, once more asserting my dominance that didn't actually go any further than our conversation. It was a pretty pitiful show of power. One thing clicked though, while we were standing there—I needed to try to do something with my phone. I didn't know if I could actually call Ramón somehow, but I'd at least do my best to attempt. I needed to get the phone powered on without Frederic noticing, and then try to send some sort of message. I didn't even consider what might happen to me if he caught me trying to use it.

  Frederic made me go first, his eyes following me like a hawk. When I got around to my side of the car—he had moved it from the position against the wall where I could barely get out of it; how nice of him!—I reached into my purse and pressed the power button on my phone, the inside of my purse suddenly illuminated by the startup screen. I paused very briefly and then climbed inside.

  Oh shit, what if I had a bunch of missed notifications? The phone would go crazy after it came on—and that exact thing happened. I felt it start to buzz, the night time silence interrupted by awakening technology. I coughed and forced the purse to the floor, hoping it would be enough. And then, the engine roared to life, drowning out the telltale phone. I had never been so thankful for that machismo sound in my life.

  I waited with absolute patience to see if Frederic had noticed anything—he just went through the motions of driving the car as if nothing had changed. A sigh of relief escaped me that I suppose seemed okay. I still didn't have a plan, but I at least had another option.

  We had passed out early, so it didn't surprise me when I saw the clock on the dashboard said three o'clock in the morning. I guess if this was the big international deal, it must mean that the big guns had just arrived from a transatlantic flight—and perhaps were impatient. Apparently, Frederic didn't have anything to say, because he was just as quiet as I was. Maybe he was figuring out his own plan of action...

  I was surprised by how awake I felt. I guess it probably helped that I felt like my life was being threatened. Fear was quite the drug, really. This was way better than coffee.

  It was difficult to get comfortable in my seat, even though this was a luxury car. My body was just mimicking the actions of my mind, the futile attempts to figure out a way to use my phone without Frederic noticing. I knew I couldn't text without looking, so I ruled that out first.

  What else could I do? I went over the very limited options in my mind. If I could see the screen, that would mean that it was illuminating the interior of the car, an obvious dead giveaway. It didn't take me long to realize that the only option I had was a total shot in the dark, one that I had no way of verifying the success of. I had to try, however.

  Ramón was the last person I called, therefore, if I hit the call button multiple times, it should bring up the recently called list and then call him. I would just have to try it over and over again, hoping that an unending stream of calls would let him know something was up.

  I sat and quietly watched Frederic, studying his routine of checking each mirror and popping over keeping an eye on me. It was robotic, predictable. I slid my hand into my purse, put it into position, and waited for him to look at his driver's side mirror. The next time he did, I pressed the button multiple times in a row and waited. As expected, I had no clue if anything was actually going right.

  Since I also didn't know how long the journey would take, I immediately tried again after a few minutes, my intention to get as many calls through as possible. How would Ramón even find me? Would he triangulate the location from my cell phone? I'd heard people say that before—Frederic had warned me about it with Roland as well—but I didn't understand how it worked. It felt like I was missing something, some crucial piece of the puzzle, but my slate was totally blank.

  I mindlessly pressed that button over and over again, pausing between each attempt, convinced that it both wasn't working and that Frederic still hadn't noticed. I had fallen into a slight trance as I worked. The car suddenly came to an abrupt stop. We were in the middle of nowhere, so I figured something was amiss. My heart started pounding. "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "You think I can't see you playing with your phone? Give it to me. Now."

  "No," I pleaded. "I'm not doing anything with it."

  "Then give it to me. I told you to leave it turned off. It's going to get you into trouble."

  "It's not on," I said.

  Frederic looked at me, his eyes scolding me as much as his words. "Listen, I'm not going to play this game anymore. I've seen it lighting up half the car for the past twenty minutes." He was getting noticeably frustrated. "Give me the goddamn phone now, Marisa."

  I sat there in silence, not sure what I should do. What would he do with the phone? Would he check to see whom I had been calling? There were a lot of risks associated with handing over that phone, a lot of—

  His hand grabbed my purse and wrestled the phone out of it, his strength more than I would have ever predicted. I fought him, grabbing for that stolen, sacred object, fighting for it like my life depended on it. His driver's side window started to lower and finally the climax occurred—he hurled the phone out of the window. I heard it crack loudly against the pavement, the fatal blow that signaled the end. That plan was no more. I could only hope it hadn't been entirely in vain.

  Hopelessness kept me frozen. At the very least, I had prevented him from finding out who I had been in communication with. That was a small victory, at the very least. Still, the blow was devastating, the intensity sobering. If I had any doubt that this was serious, it was gone now.

  In my brief moment of inaction and contemplation, a lot of things flashed through my mind. Images from my childhood, college, my many work-related experiences. There were my parents, the days on the beach with my friends, the bustling city that I had spent so much time in before coming here. And then there was blackness, chasing all of it away, wiping it off the face of the earth. I didn't want to give up now. No, that wouldn't be worth it.

  What did I have to lose anymore?

  Why was I going along with this? For some reason I felt like I was being led into a slaughterhouse, just winding around and following the other cows until I'd suddenly meet my death by surprise.

  I was stronger than that. I decided I'd try to run, to flee this. Who could I trust now? Nobody seemed to fit the bill besides Ramón, and he was inconveniently located right now. Would he find me and end this madness? There didn't seem to be anything left to do but run—or at least try. I yanked open my door before Frederic started driving again and jumped into the night.

  The road was surrounded by woods, so I would just make a straight shot and get as far as I could. I liked the idea of Roland getting enraged because his precious Frederic had lost track of his girl. My feet hit the ground hard as I took my first running steps. Unbeknownst to me, the gravel on the side of the road was comprised of loose stones. I fell to the ground as my foot sunk into the unexpected textured and stripped
me of my forward momentum.

  Pain shot through my leg as it scraped across the stones, the stinging something I'd have to ignore for now. I scrambled back to my feet, doing everything in my power to find stability.

  Bang!

  I froze, the loudness overwhelming my ears. That was a gun. It had to be. Was I shot? Nothing felt different, but then again, it never seemed to be that way in the movies. The guy always heard the shot and then realized a moment later that the bullet had penetrated his abdomen after feeling around. Was that me? I felt my belly, but everything seemed to be normal. I was so disorientated, so—

  "Get the hell back in the car or I'm going to actually point it at you." I turned around and saw Frederic standing there with a shiny silver pistol in his hand, his outline illuminated by the bright headlights of the car. "Hurry up!" He looked like a glowing executioner.

  I had been so gung ho about running away, so ready to flee with my dignity intact—but the taste of impending doom had paralyzed me. Honestly, I didn't think he'd actually shoot me if I did run, but I didn't want to test that theory anymore. Tears streamed down my face as I shamefully walked back to the car. Such an anticlimactic event. I felt like a dog, disciplined by an owner that had been pushed too far. My head hung low as I climbed back into the car. I was embarrassed and bleeding, but thankfully my wound was just a scrape. The emotional damage was something else entirely.

  "Why did you do that?" Frederic asked.

  Honestly, I didn't even want to respond, but my words came out anyway. "You're just taking me to die anyway."

  "Nothing is that simple, Marisa." He pressed the button and the doors locked with an audible click. Yes, I could still just lift the lock, but that didn't mean the gesture lacked significance. He didn't trust me, that was clear.

  "What the hell is that even supposed to mean? I don't know who anyone is anymore," I said with pure exasperation.

  Frederic turned and faced me, presumably the last pause before we'd start driving. "You know that things are different here, totally different than the real world. I don't want you to get hurt, but as far as I know, Roland has no reason to hurt you. Is there something I should know about?"

  "No," I managed to choke out. "Nothing makes any sense. It hasn't for days."

  He shifted the car into gear and nodded silently. "We'll be there soon."

  Whoa, was I really being that overdramatic? Something seemed to tell me that everything was an illusion at this point, nothing but smoke and mirrors. I had slept with—and felt very close to—two different men in the last forty-eight hours. I had dropped off a briefcase containing a bomb and killed another billionaire, along with a number of innocent people. I felt at least a little psychotic, like I was going crazy—literally.

  Was this just another thing that I could misinterpret, another thing to throw onto the pile of confused ideas? I had nothing definitive, yet everything to consider.

  He fired a gun, Marisa, to herd you back in the car. Would Frederic really go that far for just Roland alone? Was I here to serve some other purpose? I couldn't fathom what that might be.

  I clutched my purse the rest of the way, wishing desperately that it was one of those squishy stress balls. They always seemed like such a gimmick until you really needed one. The purse was not an adequate substitute.

  We only drove for about ten more minutes, entering the city and immediately heading to the warehouse district by the river. It sprawled a long way, the docks filled with barges that were making gigantic scale deliveries. The area was well illuminated and we drove past countless identical looking buildings on a quest to find whatever happened to be the right location.

  There were a number of fancy cars and vans parked in a disorganized mess next to one of the buildings; I guess that was what happened when there weren't lines painted on the ground. We pulled up and joined the chaos. Frederic killed the engine and sat there, the silence returning once again. Neither of us said anything.

  Finally he spoke. "Listen," he said quietly, "just stay calm, okay? It could get rough in there. When so much is on the line, people get crazy. Believe me."

  "Okay," I said. I had no idea how crazy he actually meant, but if the bombing of a competitor was any indication, crazy could surely mean a lot of things. "You're sure I can't just leave? I won't tell anyone a thing. My lips are sealed. Just let me go." I was absolutely certain it wasn't going to work—I was correct.

  Frederic gave a nervous chuckle. "No way," he said. "You know it's not so simple anymore. Nobody just walks away from this."

  "It just doesn't make any sense," I remarked. "I just came out here to get a story, and now I'm stuck with this, whatever it is."

  "That happens to a lot of us. Just be brave."

  I didn't like those words one bit, especially not after Roland had said them to me before. I wasn't privy to any information, and it made me sick to my stomach. This was like someone blindfolding you, telling you to walk forward, and then informing you that you may or may not fall right off a cliff. Just be brave, okay? It was so stupid and irrational. But then again, so was being shot because you tried to run from someone with a gun.

  "No more waiting. I know you're nervous. So am I." He straightened out his shirt and double-checked the pistol in his pants, patting it as if his gesture meant something. "Let's go."

  I grabbed my purse and got out of the car, following Frederic's lead, the hum of machinery almost overwhelming while we were outside. If I had my phone, I would have snapped photos of all of these license plates and given them to Ramón. That'd show 'em. It was gone, however. Years of photos and texts and phone numbers. All gone. Maybe Ramón had actually received my calls, but he'd be driving to a random spot in the woods to find me now. It was no good.

  Out footsteps echoed against the concrete, the ominous, tall buildings looming around us. I couldn't believe how big, yet hollow everything felt. The water sloshed up against the docks as the wind whistled around us. It was chilly and I really hoped that the inside was heated. If I could have one last request before I lost it all, it would be adequate warmth.

  I tried to look for a number on the building, but Frederic kept me moving, presumably to prevent me from doing so. He opened a side door and led me inside. I was blasted with a gust of warm air and felt overwhelmed by excitement. The first positive thing to happen in hours! We continued down a hallway until we reached a large door that led into the actual warehouse space. It was propped open and Frederic motioned me forward. I stepped in and then paused.

  "You go first now. I'm kind of freaked out."

  "We go at the same time," he said, taking me by the arm.

  We walked forward, my legs struggling to keep up with his brisk pace. He kept me moving, however. The rows of lights hummed above, a cacophony of mechanical noise that ensured that everything would feel unsettling going forward. Forklifts were littered around the room, along with other random pieces of machinery that I couldn't identify just by looking at it. We continued walking.

  "Okay," Frederic whispered, "here goes nothing."

  There were a number of men standing around in a circle, a business huddle of crooks and rich folks that were somehow getting along. I guess they were more similar than their appearances suggested. It was a gradient from suits to leather jackets, a bizarre juxtaposition of the underground with the top floors of skyscrapers. It was a meeting of the executives and the guys that did the dirty work.

  "Ah, my friends!" Roland shouted, his voice perpetually echoing through the hollow space. "So glad you could join us. My, you look lovely, pet!"

  I scowled at Roland as Frederic kept me moving forward. We got close to the circle, but never actually entered it. He let go of my arm and I straightened out my shirt. I recognized some of the thugs that I had seen coming and going at the mansion. I'd keep my distance from them, that was for sure.

  "Pet, why don't you come join me?" Roland asked.

  "No, I'm just fine here, thanks," I said, staring down at my feet, hiding my rage fro
m the group.

  Roland paused. "Very well then." He smiled. "Big things are happening here, my friends. Things that will change our lives forever."

  "Shouldn't we wait for the others?" Frederic suddenly piped in.

  "We'll get to them in a minute," Roland said, shrugging off Frederic's concern like it was nothing. There was no response, so Roland continued. "We've brought together some great men here. It's unfortunate that it's taken so long to make this happen because of certain...obstacles." The way he said it sent chills down my spine. It didn't seem to faze anyone else.

  The monologue continued, despite the fact that no one seemed to be paying attention. "As you know, Roland Starland doesn't do business unless everything is impeccably planned out. Precise and consistent. Working out the kinks until there is a perfectly working machine. We've had to make some adjustments—and there will be more very soon—but things are functioning very smoothly now, especially thanks to the brilliant efforts of my dear pet over here. Won't you take a bow, Marisa?"

  "No," I said. "I won't. I still can't believe you used me for—"

  "Where is Dallas?" Frederic suddenly shouted. "Where the fuck is Dallas and the others?" Who was Dallas? Whoever he was, Frederic was pretty serious about him being here. Yet another significant person I had never met.

  "Ouch," Roland said. "So feisty tonight. That hurts." Roland's wicked smile, the one I remembered from our many times together, spread across his face. Circumstances were totally different, and now I loathed it. "They've been dealt with," he said matter-of-factly.

  "What the fuck, Roland?" Frederic was noticeably upset. "Those were good people! What the fuck were you thinking?"

  The smile seemed to be permanently etched onto Roland's face. He was deriving incredible amusement from this "Business is business," he said nonchalantly. "Ah, but there's still a traitor in our midst. A dirty little rat, even after we've done our spring cleaning."

  Oh my god! I was cooked. This was it. Everybody was about to turn and face me, a relentless firing squad prepared to carry out their execution. Should I run? No, I couldn't outrun these bullets, not these trained killers. My body would vanish and my parents would never hear from me again. My heart pounded so hard that I feared it might burst out of my chest and tumble to the floor. I was totally frozen.