THE CORPORATE OWNERS
Arnold was tired, scared, anxious and completely out of his depth. He just got the call that he had been expecting for several months but had always hoped never to receive.
She was dead.
An automobile accident they said.
The man on the other end of the line said, "We have our men on it. They will conclude that she was speeding, and the toxicology screen will be positive for opioids. We have already placed valid prescription bottles from another state in her home for verification."
He swallowed bitterly against the dryness of his throat. "Will be?" he whispered.
The chuckle. "Yes, so everything goes back to normal. Our partnership proceeds unhindered with no pesky distractions. Right?"
The call had concluded shortly after that slightly veiled threat.
The proposition had been so good when he first heard it, like a cool draught to a parched throat. Yet, he knew it was the wrong choice. He knew it. His conscience had screamed for him to walk, no run away from the guy the minute he started the 'sales pitch.' But there was nowhere to turn. He and his business partner wife had made a series of bad investments and judgment errors, and they were going to lose everything. When the deal was proposed, he had spent months attempting to figure out how to salvage the company, but they had exhausted all financial life preservers, so there was nothing left to him.
The thought of his wife, Kim, left him numb. She seemed to have no comprehension of the direness of their situation. For the past five years, every financial cliff they faced was averted by her insistence that they take on another loan or buy another business, which temporarily bailed them out but eventually only increased their debt. He shouldn't blame her for her optimism but did nonetheless. His mind stubbornly refused to acknowledge his part.
As he saw it, he had been forced to become an active but unwilling participant in a seedy, underground crime world previously known only to him vicariously through movies or the news. He saw now that they had succeeded in making an incompetent fool out of him, publicly and privately. His own vanity and greed compelled him to create a façade of the cartel as legitimate financial partners, knowing full well they were nothing more than thieves and murderers. Period.
No. When they first approached him, he did not run. He should have.
Now she was dead.
Amidst these personal revelations lay something deeper and much more complex. He knew they would kill her. During conversations about her 'meddling,' Arnold described her as an overeager pharmacist who couldn't possibly pose a threat. They themselves controlled the source of any evidence she might uncover, which would, in time lead her to abandon the chase. Attributing her obsession to a self-limiting virus, he said, "You don't kill the patient because they caught a cold, you shore up their immune system and wait it out." He tried to convince them that they needed to be more careful instead. "Don't start down that road," he pleaded. "How do you turn back from that? If you start eliminating threats, before there is one, it is almost impossible to draw a line against doing it next time."
On the other end, there was silence. Palpable silence.
Then an audible sigh. He waited.
The inhuman voice came forth as if explaining the very simple to the very naive.
"Do you really think this is our first time?"
For Arnold, the world stopped spinning for just an instant. His senses were sharpened, his respiration short and rapid, his field of vision narrowed, his muscles tensed, and he heard his heartbeat in his ears as his hand clenched tightly around the telephone receiver. His mind scanned every interaction and communication he had with these men over the years in chronological sequence as if spun by a sadistic movie producer.
"No. I don't really believe that you think that. Yet, Maybe? Maybe you thought this was just a silly game? Uhmmm..." the voice on the other end of the receiver trailed off. His calm tone served its intent, to stir him into panic followed by complacency. "Could it be that you thought there were no harmful side effects to this particular therapy?" His laugh was low and cutting.
Arnold stared blankly out the office window in a state of hypo-panic. His mind raced through possible scenarios, every single combination possible within a matter of minutes if not seconds. They would kill his wife, maybe do so in front of him. They might even start killing off members of his family, although that could eventually be traced. If they killed more employees it would cast state then federal attention on the business, so he reversed that thought. They might kill him and Kim since they were both involved heavily, to silence them both and create vacancies with which they could assume total control over the business. That was the fastest, cleanest answer, and conveyed the message to others within their sphere that they were to be taken deadly seriously.
"Yes. This is a good time to evaluate your options. How do you say...Perform a Cost-Benefit Analysis?" He laughed deeply and cruelly at this before he disconnected the call.
Arnold gathered his jacket, told his secretary that he would be leaving early for the day and walked, like a dead man, out of the building to his BMW in the parking lot. He would have to tell his wife about the phone call, the truth that the pharmacist's death was in fact murder and that they were both complicit in it. If he passed anyone, he didn't know and didn't care as his mind registered nothing of his surroundings. His eye caught no glimpse of the light orbs that surrounded him. A keen-eyed observer would have seen strange refractions of sunlight all around him. They might even have thought it was divinely inspired, had they been so inclined.
This, of course, was not the case. Not even close.
His heartbeat raced as he approached the off-ramp that emptied into the connecting street. This was where she died. His subconscious mind replayed the deadly events as they were reported earlier. Would that be his fate? If not now, then just delayed to some future date? Would it drag out, be agonizing...what? As he entered the street, his mind turned to an old, desperate thought he had often toyed with over the past couple of years. If he killed himself in an accident, not only would Kim collect some insurance money, but all the debts against the corporation would be sold. Her name was only on one non-divested business and the house.
She would be free of these guys and, if she kept her mouth shut, would be able to start anew quite easily and debt free. The idea was comforting only in that it gave him a sense of control over the path their life had taken. He fantasized that this one final sacrificing act that only he could perform would release her from a mutually inflicted life of bondage forever.
In his distraction, he didn't see the stop sign until it was too late.
It didn't matter. The streets were deserted this time of day. He drove on.
He was still planning his accidental suicide when he drove to the end of a Birch tree-lined cul-de-sac onto the long driveway that leads to their secluded home half an hour later. As he approached the house, his guilt-ridden imagination morphed the cedar sided cape, with its large bay window and wraparound porch into a dark, menacing, blood-stained thing built by corruption and murder. He turned off the car's ignition and stared through the front windshield allowing his mind to clear as he scanned the yard. He needed to call the landscaper to cut the lawn again this week. But then again, maybe that can wait.
Maybe everything can just simply wait.
What would he tell his wife? He assumed she heard the news of the accident and therefore may know more about the details of the pharmacist's death than even he did. But the information he was about to divulge might induce panic and hysteria. The worst part for him was that he could no longer refuse that within some deep core he knew what he had signed up for. His subconscious wasn't letting him pass through this state of shock because it had a lesson it wanted him to learn. That they, he, had accepted the probability of a colleague's murder in exchange for the promise of financial solvency.
That was wholly unacceptable to him.
He barely had the energy to get out of the car. His mind furiously prepared a blueprint of his next steps, his next words to mitigate any further potential shock. His determination increased with every step towards the house until it nearly mimicked courage. All was quiet as he closed the front door behind him and was just about to call out when his wife assailed him at the door.
"They killed her! They killed her! Holy shit! They did it...they actually killed her!" she cried.
They held each other as she cried, the tears moistening his lapel. Kim cried with complete abandon, and he wished he could do the same. He couldn't no matter how much he felt he needed or wanted to, it wasn't there. That emotion was drowned in fear and hatred.
Arnold moved her toward the living room, peeled her arms from around his shoulders and set her onto the sofa. He immediately went to lock all the doors and shutter the windows only to find that she had done it already. She had even thought to disconnect the computers and shut off her cell phone. He was beginning to see that she knew more than he previously thought.
He slipped in next to her on the sofa as she continued to cry genuinely. Her body wracked with the overwrought stuttering of emotional exhaustion. She looked up, her eyes searching his in desperation.
"What have we done? How...what is this?" She whispered. Her hands palm up in front of her as if holding the object under scrutiny. "What...what the hell!" her voice growing in pitch.
He had nothing to say. What could he possibly say to this? There was nothing. She was right.
"They kill her?!? She was questioning stuff and instead of...I don't know...they kill her?!?" she starts to regain control of herself at this. He didn't know how long she had been here thinking, and panicking.
"I," he starts and finds that his throat is too tight to speak, clears it and starts again, "didn't know how much you knew. You've caught me off guard..." He allowed his voice to trail off, surprised and embarrassed by the emotion bottled up in his throat. He had to be the strong one here.
"They approached me years ago, right after they cornered you. They tried to play us each against the other the entire time. Attempting to convince us that the other was the weaker one so they could assume dominance. Then who else would we turn to but them? Certainly not each other!" Her body still shuttered intermittently, but the outburst was waning.
He listened to her explain the cartel's 'Divide and Conquer' psychological weapon with awe, admitting only to himself that he had fallen for it completely. He had drawn away from her psychologically and drew them closer and closer over the past few years. "If you knew about it, then why did you go along with it? Why didn't you tell me what was happening?" His hands clasped her shoulders firmly as if trying to squeeze the response out of her.
"What choice did I have? Besides, you had already agreed to divert the narcotics when they approached me! When I saw the laundering, how could I turn back? They got your approval then used it to weaken me to go along with it. Had I gone to the authorities I would be condemning my husband!" She spat.
Attempting to keep her voice low, Kim continued. "I've been sitting here for two hours rehashing every single step and the conclusion I've come to baffles my mind! We were set up! Set up from the get-go! I can't find any other answer for it and believe me, I've tried." Her head nods in self-agreement.
She gets up, starts to pace the living room floor and continues, "Think of it. How was it that EVERY SINGLE business we took over started to fail? How is that even POSSIBLE? We have what...six small businesses? A couple of generic wholesalers, the paper mill, the office supply, the temp agency, and the delivery service. Just small companies but independently sustainable which is why we purchased them. We would use them to supply our pharmacies predominantly, lowering costs, plus they would be a financial buffer because they serviced outside businesses in the community, right? Each one starts to lose money as soon as we buy it. How? Why?" She demands an answer from him that she is already prepared to deliver.
"Because they are everywhere! We aren't the only ones that they have a noose on! They had the customers go elsewhere to starve us into doing business with them. That's the plain truth of it. As our numbers sank and we tried to reduce losses by investing in another highly profitable business, that business starts to tank the minute we hang our shingle on the door. That doesn't happen in reality! It can't. Each company has its own customer base so how do they ALL have the same response? It's NOT the economy, that hasn't changed!" She was in full fury mode now.
Is that why she even unplugged the computer, he thought to himself. Did she think they were spying on us too! His facetious thought froze abruptly in his head. I wouldn't put it past them either. But could she be right?
She paced the floor frantically as she spoke punctuating key points with hand gestures. "There are only two possible answers for that. One, the businesses were only profitable on paper, the infamous two accounting books method. Or two, that the customer base was intentionally directed away from us to other suppliers. Either or a combination of both finagled us straight into their outstretched arms!" She started to fatigue, her shoulders slumping and moved to sit in the lounge chair directly in front of him on the sofa. She was right, he admitted to himself.
"The minute we bought the first pharmacy we were targets," she concludes as she drops her head in her palms. "And now she's dead."
They both sat motionless in the darkened room. Each taking in the unnatural quality of the existence they now found themselves in.
"She won't be the last either." He broke the silence. They stared at each other and through each other across the living room expanse as the reality of that statement seeped into their thoughts. Resting her head in her hands, she regarded him with a look of placid acceptance. "Yep. I got that too."
Arnold sat forward in the chair and asked her pointedly, "What did you mean when you said that they had been trying to work us against each other?" He needed to know what techniques they had used on her, compare them to what he now realized they used on him so that he could come up with some sort of playbook on how they maneuvered. IF, and that was a big if, they were going to get out of this alive, they needed a comprehensive understanding of their enemy's methods.
In an instinctive reaction to him moving his body towards her, Kim pulled her body back so that she rested her head on the lounge's headrest. He took notice of this. Even sitting across from each other was too close for her to bear. She tilted her head up and closed her eyes as she related several instances over the years where they alerted her of his misdeeds. Never directly, she stated, but in an off-hand way. "Did your husband tell you that he did...fill in the blank...today? We have every confidence in his decision," or something to the effect. Which she acknowledged made her reflexively question his judgment because the scenario or decision they brought up was simply bad business. They would then come back a short while later and say that, having pointed out A or B or whatever, her husband had changed his mind. In other words, they had cajoled him into making the correct decision. So, she found herself counting on them to keep him in check. Then about a year or so ago, "You remember the negotiations over the Hermes acquisition?"
Hermes, LLC. was their last business acquisition. It seemed to hold tremendous promise within their network and a healthy profit to offset the losses of the other companies. The proposed business model concept was to expand its already existing neighborhood grocery deliveries to include pharmaceuticals, surgical and even office supplies. It seemed like a natural fit. Before the first year was out, the company was in the red as delivery contracts were not renewed. Money was readily available; however, to cover the losses of each business under the corporate banner.
Arnold remembered that vividly as it was a pivotal time. Not insofar as the negotiations went but in his confidence in his wife's abilities. The emails she sent, backed by her comments about it here at home, altered his belief in her acumen. His confidence in her had been on shaky ground for a couple of years and was dealt a fatal blow then. He loved her, she was his wife, but it was a paradigm shift in their relationship, as far as he was concerned.
His face soured as he responded affirmatively.
"I haven't trusted you fully since." She stated flatly.
His focus on her narrowed, and he unconsciously leaned forward in the sofa. She tilted her head down from its perch on the headrest and looked him straight in the eye. "I read an email from you stating that, with that merger, you would be able to place the remaining portion in your private account and that they would get their percentage beforehand."
He straightened up in the sofa "WHAT?" he exclaimed, puzzled. None of that was even remotely familiar to him, and he had no private account.
"I know," she nodded. "I didn't know then," she acknowledged. "They had successfully convinced me by that time that you were, without question, untrustworthy. Given the fact that you agreed to partner with them just made you appear all the more guilty. Let's face it. As far as I was concerned, if you could go into business with drug dealers and money launderers then what would prevent you from backstabbing your wife?"
He sat dejected ready to slump back in the sofa but whispered instead, "I never sent that email. I have never, ever cheated you or cheated on you financially or otherwise."
"I know that too. Again, I didn't then, but I have to admit that the entire picture of you...the one they tried to paint OF you, never sat well with me. There was always that remnant in my head," she points to her temple in a casual way, "that said 'that's not him. That's not the person you know him to be.' But it shook me. It shook me deeply enough to doubt everything about you. Second guess your motives..." her voice trailed off. She rested her head back on the lounger's headrest and this time closed her eyes.
He looked at his wife. He truly looked at her as he hadn't done in years.
"Like I said, I haven't fully trusted you since," she breathed.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
"They've been undermining us to each other and whittling our companies out from under us in order to..." She cut him off in a matter of fact tone, "Take it away from us at a time convenient for them and do with us as they wish. Either take the corporation away and leave us in a broken relationship as business failures no one would believe or...get simply rid of us." She stood up, rubbed her palms on her thighs and cleared her throat at this. "It's the same difference to them."
As she turned her back and walked from the living room to the kitchen, he couldn't help but notice a certain strength in her stride. A hidden confidence in her bearing that he greatly needed to see in her, if not in himself. She was not defeated, deflated but not defeated. He would need to feed on that core and she on his if they had any chance of exiting this nightmare. He had no idea what that exit strategy would be, but he knew there had to be one. There had to be. Their story couldn't end like this.
As it stood now, they either went and pleaded their case to the FBI, offering themselves as informants in exchange for leniency, or be killed. Neither option appealed to him.
A life was taken that day.
His wife was returned to him in a way he could never have conceived of that day.
His life was forever altered that day.
He pulled himself up from the sofa, fought off a sudden head rush, proceeded to search through a pile of papers on the entryway table and hastened to the kitchen. His wife was there, and he had to go to her.
He had an idea.