Then I reached the edge of a steep cliff, the Furies taunting me—<Jump! Jump! Jump!>
I couldn’t stop myself—I hurled my body over the edge, toward the rocky, stormy sea below.
The water felt like a concrete wall as I hit the surface. My skin was already numb from the frigid rain, but the shock blew the breath from my lungs. I kicked and tried to stroke my arms, but the Furies were beneath me, pulling me down. I could hear their laughter in the water: <Down, down, down! No more sun, no more air! No more breath! To the bottom with you!>
I closed my eyes, choking as salt water slipped through my clenched lips. One more second . . . two . . .
I shot up in bed, coughing and gagging. Rachel pounded my back. I leaned over, gasping for breath.
Rachel switched the light on. “Again?”
I looked up at the ceiling, shaking. My eyes darted around the room. But they weren’t here. Just a nightmare.
I leaned back. Rachel caught me and stroked my shoulders. “Sorry,” I murmured.
“Are they here?” She lifted her eyes, as if looking for something to punch.
I blinked. “No. Just . . . inside my head.”
She tapped a fist against my skull. “Hello? Get out of there!”
I managed a laugh. If anyone could scare the Furies away, it was Rachel. “Thanks.”
Then I grabbed a T-shirt. “I need coffee. Go back to sleep.”
She sagged back on the sheets. “You know, sleep deprivation can drive you crazy?”
“Tell me about it.” I stood and staggered. “See you in the morning.”
Rachel found me in the kitchen at 7:03 a.m., peering at my laptop with bleary eyes. “We can’t keep going like this.” She yawned. “I need my beauty sleep.”
“I know.” I’d spent half the night looking at the files Pacetta had sent me from Mandie Shannon. Rubbing my eyes, I checked the screen again, then scrolled down.
“Here.” If I was reading correctly, at least half a million dollars had been transferred from one client’s account to Anagnos two months ago. There looked to be more before that. A lot more.
“So what?” Rachel shrugged. “We already know that the Gracious Ones aren’t really enforcing the NDA.”
“Yeah, but . . .” I’d spent a few hours researching the Furies. I didn’t exactly read Aeschylus, although I did skim Wikipedia. Like Rachel had said, Orestes got rid of the Furies by holding a trial, with the goddess Athena casting the vote that acquitted him, thereby upholding the rule of law, or something.
I gulped my coffee. It wasn’t really helping. I’d nodded off twice, and both times the Furies attacked me. I managed to wake up, splash water on my face, and go back to work.
“Let me take a shower, and eat breakfast.” I ran a hand over my head. “Then I’ve got an idea. It may be a pretty awful idea, but at this point it’s all I’ve got.”
She slugged my arm. “All right. Is there any coffee left?”
At 9:32 we walked into the Fort Financial office again. Ahmed was stationed at the front desk with a frown. “Yes?”
“Randall Fortner, please.” I tried not to rock on my feet, wired from the coffee. It probably wouldn’t help my chances of getting in.
Ahmed glanced at his computer. “Mr. Fortner is unavailable right now.”
“That’s all right.” Rachel leaned forward with a smile. “We’ll see Anagnos.”
His frown shifted. Less about me, maybe more about Anagnos. Nobody likes lawyers, I guess.
Ahmed nodded. “I’ll have to let him know.”
We found the office just as Anagnos was hanging up his phone. Not a corner office, but spacious and neat. Family photos, sat on his desk, along with a laptop as well as a mainframe, a vase of fresh flowers, and some kind of ceramic urn.
He glared at us as he walked through his doorway. “What do you want?”
I staggered to his desk, pulled out my phone, and tapped a few numbers. “Take a look at the email I just sent you.”
He stared at me, then turned to his computer. He tapped a pen on his desk waiting for the email to appear on his screen.
“What is this?” He clicked the message.
“It’s an email I’m going to send to your entire workforce, telling them how you and Fortner are stealing money from your customers, along with the attachment that proves. Some of your employees probably already know it—they may be in it with you—but I’m betting not all of them do, and they’re not going to want to keep working for you once they know you’re crooks, especially so they won’t get charged when all this comes out.”
“And since they’re all employees, this doesn’t violate the NDA.” Rachel grinned. “Not that it matters now that we know the Furies aren’t about enforcing it.”
Anagnos laughed. “Is that all you’ve got? An email? This is pathetic.”
I shrugged. “It’s going to come out anyway. I’m not the only one who has that attachment. But if you don’t care—”
I pressed “send” on the group email.
Anagnos’ eyes went wide. Maybe he thought I was bluffing. But I’m lousy at cards, and I’ve learned that it’s not smart to make promises—or threats—that I’m not ready to keep.
“Oh, you idiot.” He saw the new message on his email—set to 37 other recipients. He immediately started typing out a response. “Get out of here.”
“Fine.” I looked at Rachel.
“No, wait.” Anagnos leaned forward, reaching across his desk. “Before you go—”
He clutched the urn, pulled it toward him, and unscrewed the top. Then he held it below his face.
“Tom Jurgen,” he whispered.
The Furies surrounded me, their wings flapping, their hair in flames. They stung me with their tails, laughing maniacally, and flicked their forked tongues at my face. It felt like wasps attacking my eyes.
I saw Rachel standing next to me, her fists clenched. She couldn’t see the Furies, but she could see what they were doing to me. I sank to my knees, trying to cover my head and my neck as they shot fire at me from their fingers, burning my shoulders, arms, and back.
All along they kept taunting me:
<You will suffer forever!>
<You will beg for death!>
<But it won’t come! Only torment and torture!>
<Enjoy it! Feast on it!>
<Embrace the pain! Let it fill you up!>
<This is your existence now! Eternal agony!>
I closed my eyes. Shut up, shut up, shut up. . .
I felt Rachel’s boot kick my hip. “Tom?” Her voice sounded miles away.
I tried to look up. Tried to speak. After a moment, my throat as dry as a Sahara sandstorm, I managed to squawk, “Can’t you come up with some better dialogue, you bitches?”
They couldn’t physically kill me. I had no easy way of killing myself, unless I could somehow break through the window next to Anagnos’ desk and dive down nine stories to the sidewalk below. For a moment it seemed like a reasonable option. But more likely I’d just bust my forehead on the reinforced glass. Modern office buildings don’t install windows that break that easy.
All I could do was cower, feeling like a coward in front of Rachel. But the shrieking, the taunting, the fire and the flames were too much to handle. Besides, Rachel knows I’m not that brave.
I curled myself into the fetal position as they laughed. Make it stop, make it stop, make it—
“What the hell?”
The Furies froze.
Fortner’s voice. I took a deep breath and lifted my head.
Rachel grabbed my shoulder. “You okay?”
Yes.No. I shook my head and looked around.
Anagnos stood behind his desk, breathing hard. At the door—
I expected Fortner. Instead I blinked and saw six or seven people crowding in the doorway, and more behind them. Some of them I recognized from striding through the office today and before.
One of them was Ahmed.
Fortner pushed through them. “What the hell? Jurgen, what are you . . . Alan?”
Agagnos blew into the urn. All the Furies vanished.
“Uh, what’s going on?” This came from a fiftyish guy in a blue shirt. “We heard shouting.”
“Nothing.” Fortner waved an arm. “Get back to work.”
“Wait!” My voice was raspy. I wanted a drink of water. Rachel helped me to my feet. “Wait!”
A young African American woman in slacks and a loose necktie thrust herself forward. “You okay, sir?”
I coughed. “Footnote six. The Gracious Ones. It’s not about the NDA, it’s about . . .” I coughed again. Rachel held my arm.
I tried to stand straight. “They can send them after you whenever they want, because they’re stealing money from your clients. Remember Mandie Shannon, and Steve Birks. They committed suicide. Lisa McHugh is still in the hospital. And the other two—” I shook my head. I should have remembered their names. “It’s because of that.”
I pointed at the urn. “That’s where they live. And they’ll drive you crazy whenever Alan and Fort want.”
Fortner and Anagnos exchanged looks. Anagnos leaned down and started tapping his keyboard.
“Look, everyone.” Fortner turned. “I don’t know what you think, but this guy has been a problem since the day we hired him—”
“Uh, Mr. Fort?” It was Brian Alderson. The guy who’d hired me in the first place. “That’s not exactly true. He’s done good work for us.”
Good work? I’d gotten Mandie Shannon killed. But I nodded. “Thanks, Brian.”
“Screw this.” The guy in the blue shirt turned. “I quit.”
“Yeah.” The woman followed him. “Me too.”
“What?” Fortner spun around. “No! Get back to work! All of you! Or you’re fired!”
Someone laughed. Someone else choked down a sob, but he wiped his eyes and waved good-bye. One by one, the crowd walked away to shut down their computers, gather their personal stuff, and leave.
Fortner looked like he wanted to strangle me. “You asshole.”
I laughed. “Is that the best you’ve got? Your Furies had better stuff.” I grabbed Rachel’s hand. “Let’s go.”
“This isn’t over.” Fortner didn’t block the door. He just looked at Anagnos. “Alan? What can we do to him?”
“Shut up. I’m trying to . . .” He looked like he was deleting files, one by one. His fingers twitched.
“Yeah, it’s not over.” I staggered forward and grabbed the urn. “I’ll take this.”
Anagnos was too busy at his keyboard. “You can’t control them. Don’t try.”
“I don’t want to.” I just wanted to dump them in Lake Michigan. Or maybe donate the urn to a museum, as long as it knew how to keep the Gracious Ones contained. “Just so you know, the Trib is on this. Joe Rossetti? Watch for the story. In the meantime . . .”
I tucked the urn under my arm, making sure to keep it closed. “Looks like I’ve been acquitted. Read your Aeschylus.”
Rosetti’s story ran in the next morning’s Tribune: “Investment house cheated customers of millions.” The subhead read: “Suspicions about recent suicides.”
Nothing in the story about the Gracious Ones. Obviously. But a quote from Amy Birks—“They said he embezzled money, but I never saw any”—and another one from Mandie Shannon’s mother: “She told me she was worried about what they were doing there.”
Anagnos was nowhere to be found. Federal authorities were looking for him. Fortner’s lawyers weren’t commenting.
I’d stuffed the urn in a closet. And duct-taped it shut. The Furies wouldn’t be getting out.
Lisa McHugh called me later in the day. “I’m uh, out of the hospital. And out of a job, too. But it’s better this way.”
“Sorry about your job.” I sipped some water. I was done with coffee for a while. “Glad you’re feeling better.”
“Yeah, I was going to quit anyway. That DNA was the worst. I mean NDA. Anyway, Sandra says hi. Uh, did the, those bitches—did they come after you?”
“They’re gone now.” No nightmares last night. I was grateful, mostly because Rachel could stop kicking me under the sheets.
“Good. Uh, thanks.” She hung up.
I wasn’t sure what she was thanking me for. But I’d take anything I could get.
Rachel came up behind me and rubbed my shoulders. “You okay?”
“I actually slept all night. Mostly.”
“No bad dreams?”
I smiled. “I could do with a quick nap.”
She slugged me. Then she laughed. “Maybe later. I’ve got work to do.”
We kissed. Then I turned back to my computer.
* * *
We claim to be just and upright. No wrath from us will come stealthily to the one who holds out clean hands, and he will go through life unharmed; but whoever sins, as this man has, and hides his blood-stained hands, as avengers of bloodshed we appear against him to the end, presenting ourselves as upright witnesses for the dead.
—Aeschylus, The Eumenides
# # #
Damn. Give me that old time religion. And that's one hell of closet TJ has now. Kudos!
ReplyDelete