Chapter One - The Contract

 

Miko was behind the Packard's monstrous steering wheel, sitting on a dictionary to see over the dash and finessing the old gearshift with reckless grace. Sophie would have preferred driving herself, but today she conceded that pleasure to indulge Miko. They both loved the car's powerful gentility. Its back seat was large enough to double as a boudoir, sufficient, in fact, to accommodate a threesome-a truth they had personally verified.

Miko slipped into a parking slot beside a SUV that was dwarfed by the Packard. When she stilled the throbbing engine, Sophie looked up from her reading and saw Alan Kent's office for the first time. She was not impressed.

It was part of an office mall, small and anonymous, located in the upscale end of an industrial park. Sophie thought wearily that steel pole buildings might be someday remembered as the dominant architectural style of the Twenty First Century, a sort of "Toolshed Post-Moderne" Alan's office was one of three. His neighbors were a chiropractor and something called Alternative Estates. At this hour, most of the wage slaves had gone home for the day. The parking lot was empty except for Alan's SUV and the Packard.

Miko took off her chauffeur's cap, smoothing back the black mane that tumbled free as she balanced the cap on the dash beside her driving gloves. Sophie packed up the dossier she had been studying and slid the briefcase across the seat toward Miko. Anyone who saw them emerge from the car might have thought that Sophie was a mid- level manager in a business where creativity and flair counted over experience- cosmetics perhaps, or advertising. Her leather blazer and skirt were conservatively cut. Her boot heels were high, but not too high. Her ash blonde hair was tied back impatiently. The diminutive Eurasian beside her might have been mistaken for Sophie's personal assistant, an illusion Miko encouraged by carrying the briefcase and walking a half step behind her. In reality, they were partners in all ways.

Alan met them at the door, ushering them past the empty reception area and into his office without a word of greeting. He had sent the receptionist home early. He locked the door and drew the blinds, precautions that made Sophie smile. No one had any reason to care what business they did here, unless Alan's paranoid behavior attracted attention. He was a big man with an amiable face, spoiled now by an uncharacteristic anxiety.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked.

Sophie shook her head, answering for both women, waiting for him to stop fidgeting. He raised his hand as though to shake, then hesitated, wondering perhaps if a meeting of this kind should even follow the usual rules of business transactions. Sophie rescued him by taking his hand in her own strong grip and pumping it briefly. "This is my associate, Miss Macarthy."

When he glanced at Miko, Sophie could see a nervous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as the absurdity of her surname struck him. Miko merely bowed inscrutably. Sophie almost expected her to click her heels, but that would have been overacting.

"You understand that this is difficult for me," he said, sitting behind his desk at last, but immediately seizing a letter opener and twirling it as he spoke.

"This interview, or your decision?" she asked ironically, studying him.

This was their second meeting. The first had been in the murky backroom of a downtown bar. He had chosen the location after paying an obscene amount of money to an informant for Sophie's name and number. She hadn't spoiled his whole cloak and dagger fantasy by explaining that her name could have been more cheaply purchased, and a walk on the beach together would have provided greater privacy and better ambiance. He had spoken indirectly, with furtive glances at the beer cases beside them. Eventually she had deduced that he wanted to hire her services, and that the client was his wife. Sophie had done a background check on him before agreeing to meet him, and knew that he could afford the fee she demanded. The fact that he agreed to it without haggling only underscored his desperation.

"Both," he admitted ruefully. "I prefer to avoid extremes, and I would take any other decision that showed promise."

"There is divorce," Sophie suggested helpfully.

He shook his head. "I think that it would destroy her. In spite of our difficulties, I believe that she still loves me. She is a very dependent woman. Thrusting her out into the world on her own would be like abandoning a dog. I don't want to see her suffer."

"You seem to have forgotten that my solution is hardly painless." Sophie knew that she was being tactless, but she wasn't about to let him slip into a comfortable state of denial. It would be too easy for him to blame everything on her if things turned out badly.

He opened the bottom desk drawer and set a bottle of scotch on the desktop. "I think I could use a drink about now. Would you care to join me?"

Sophie shrugged. "Make it three." She noticed that the seal on the bottle was unbroken. He hadn't touched it while he wrestled with his decision. That was a mark in his favor.

While he rummaged through his desk drawers for glasses, settling at last on coffee cups, he apologized. "Most of our business is done online. We don't spend much on appearances or amenities. Customers never see us. Suppliers just need an address. I'm afraid my office bar leaves something to be desired."

He was stalling, Sophie knew, avoiding thoughts he would rather not entertain. She toasted him with her cup. "To final solutions."

He shuddered. "I suppose you think that I'm being cold blooded about this. I know that I carry most of the blame for the failure of our marriage. She wanted things I couldn't give her. She gave me plenty of signals, but I chose to ignore them. In the end, her compulsion drove her to perform desperate and foolish acts. I will never forget what I discovered that night when I opened our bedroom door. I should have acted then. I know that now. But this wasn't a business decision. Those are easy to take, when nothing is at risk except money. Emotions were involved this time. I did nothing, and that only made matters worse."

"So now you don't speak to each other at all?" asked Sophie.

He snorted ruefully and tossed back half his drink. "I wouldn't say that. This morning I asked her to pass the sugar, and only yesterday she remarked that the weatherman promised rain. We live in a state of armed truce. It's an intolerable situation that has to end."

The drink gave him the reckless courage he needed, or an excuse for it. With sudden decisiveness, he snatched the bottle off the desk and put it away, producing an envelope from the drawer and holding it out toward Sophie.

She didn't move. "You understand that there will be no chance for you to change your mind if I accept that money. The contract is irrevocable."

He nodded his understanding. "Is there something you want me to sign?"

She laughed. "Do you expect to take me to small claims court if I fail you? Our word is our bond here. I have my own ways of enforcing my end of the contract. Have you made all of the preparations?"

"I did everything you asked me to."

It was Miko who took the envelope and opened it. She used the briefcase on her lap as a counting table, slapping down the bills with practiced efficiency.

"I'm sure that it is all there." Alan sounded a bit offended at their apparent lack of trust.

Miko finished her count and nodded to Sophie as she opened the briefcase.

"I don't want any misunderstandings between us," said Sophie.

Miko dropped the envelope into the briefcase on top of Keri Kent's dossier.

Sophie stood and took Alan's hand in her strong grip. "She will be alone tomorrow?"

"So far as I know." Alan wasn't looking at her.

"At home- all day?"

"I'll make sure." Alan promised.

"See that you do," said Sophie. "Then go to work and try not to pace too much. Don't call home or screw the whole thing up by having second thoughts. When you hire a professional, you don't hang around and try to tell her how to do the job."

"I understand."

Sophie stood appraising him for a moment, seeing that there was more substance to this man than she might have first expected. He might wrestle with hard choices, but he wouldn't waste energy on worry or regret. She nodded to Miko and they left silently.

Sophie dropped into the cavernous back seat as Miko settled behind the wheel. "Take the back roads home," Sophie sighed, digging her fixings out of her inside pocket. "I really need a smoke."

"Aw right!" breathed Miko eagerly in a throaty whisper. She did a little bump and grind on her Funk and Wagnall's booster seat and set her cap at a jaunty angle. She knew those roads, and where they led. They would roll for miles in silence while Sophie dreamed and sweet incense filled the car. Within the hour Miko would park by the old willow growing along the river, shut off the engine, carefully remove her driving gloves, and swarm over the front seat snarling.

Sophie would just grin and catch her by the wrists. Wordlessly, they would join in erotic combat, stripping each other with savage haste, writhing into hammerlocks and leg scissors, all teeth and thrusting fingers, and serpentine, sweating frenzy.

What the hell, Sophie always said, all that oil was good for the leather upholstery anyway.