Charade

Benji

The longer Vic stayed away, the more anxious I became.

With my laptop propped up by my knees, I leaned back into the brick wall, my leg shaking restlessly and my foot tapping against the concrete. Winter had stretched into September, leaving the night air icy and dark, and the cold set me on edge. Vic should've been back by now. Half an hour was more than enough time to corner the guy and pound some answers out of him. So why wasn't he here?

I should've gone with him, I kept thinking. I should've had his back.

To numb out the racing thoughts, I worked. I kept trying new things, altering what I remembered Ashley doing, trying to find the right mix of ingredients to get it going. Nothing worked. And every time something didn't work, I came this much closer to throwing the computer off the roof and watching it shatter in the alley below.

After another fifteen minutes of hopeless effort, I was ready to give up and go after Vic, but told myself to try just one more time. It worked. Whatever mix I'd tried, it had worked. I watched the curser on the computer turn into a ring as it loaded, but I was too tired to feel very happy about it. It was more of an 'about damn time' kind of relief.

Then, suddenly, there was an address; somewhere in the nicer parts of Adelaide, where the businessmen and the big wigs lived. I narrowed my eyes at the screen, wondering if I could get a name from it. And then suddenly, there was indeed a name, and more importantly, I knew it. My eyes widened as I remembered the last time I saw him, the rage in his eyes and the way his voice filled the room.

It was none other than Mr Eddie Louis, the man who had vowed to expose us. Vic was right – that camera was for us. Vic's PC was hacked. Eddie wanted evidence of the meet. But he'd said that Eddie was nothing to worry about, that he couldn't prove anything so he posed no threat. Camera footage of us involved in a shady deal with an even shadier guy? That was enough to make anyone's wheels turn.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket with shaky hands. How much did Eddie have on us? Had he been using Vic's webcam or microphone, watching and listening to our every move? It was quite possible that he knew everything we did. I had to warn Vic, had to tell him Eddie was serious and that we might be in the deepest shit we'd ever been in. So I waited, listening to the endless loop of rings, with a race of frantic thoughts running circles in my head.

© A.G. Travers 2015