The Little Black Book

The Little Black Book

It was a typical Friday when I clicked into work on my stilettos with my designer purse hanging off the crook of my arm, looking forward to the weekend. I unlocked my office, tossed my purse and keys in my visitor’s chair and started my usual routine of setting myself up for the day. It took me a couple minutes to notice the book that was tucked neatly behind my ergonomic keyboard, as if it had been specifically set there, not just simply tossed on my desk. It just was laying there, all innocent and unexceptional. A small black covered book, not much bigger than my hand. I knew I hadn’t left it there the night before and no one besides myself and the HR manager had access to my office. I decided to ignore it for the time being, popping up my email and starting up the classic rock station through my computer speakers.

As a forensic accountant, I love routine and balance. I thrive on it. So that day I went through my normal activities, answering emails, tying up recent audits, midmorning break with Julie and producing a review of the recent interrogations. It wasn’t until almost lunch when things started to settle down that I remembered the book. I had decided it was a good time to figure out this mysterious notebook that randomly showed up in my locked office. I picked up the book and felt the silky smooth leather cover. It was a quality made product and felt very nice to the touch with a nice weight. Without even opening it, I knew the paper inside would be high quality and heavy. The kind of paper that is both thick and smooth, perfect to use with a beautiful fountain pen.

When I was finished admiring the craftsmanship, I pulled the elastic band off that held the cover closed. The name inside the front cover made my insides flip on themselves. Byrne Enterprises. I inadvertently glanced down to see a list of names next to amounts. I snapped the book shut and threw it onto my desk as if it was red hot metal instead of the soft, supple fabric I had been so in awe of only moments before. My vision thumped in time with my heart and ringing started blasting through my ears. I knew exactly what that book was; what it meant to the people that owned it, what it meant for my near future and what it meant for the people listed in the book. Two of the three parties were in big trouble.

The Byrne family was new to the area but already notorious. It had taken about six months for the financial sector to hear about them, less for the mom and pop shops and somehow longer for the police. They had swept into town and quickly set up shop, promising protection and collecting “taxes”. They already had a ring of bookies, a drug trade, a money laundering system and who knows what else set up. The community had been dealing with them for about three years when that little black book landed on my desk meaning I was well aware of the trouble I was in for.

With all this running through my mind, my vision blurring and my heart racing, I was primed to pass out on the floor of my cushy office. I employed a few breathing techniques to bring myself back under control and think about my next move. If I crumbled now, I would probably die. At this point, it didn’t matter who put the book on my desk, they wouldn’t care, I just needed to figure myself a way out of this and keep my life. I pecked a quick email to my boss saying I was suddenly not feeling well and needed to go home; whatever was going to happen, I didn’t want it happening here. If I left the book here, the family could send someone to search my office and find it and they might not ever bother me. But if they did decide to bother me, it wouldn’t allow me a chance to explain. And it would also leave it open for someone else to steal.

I tucked the suddenly heavy book into my purse, grabbed my keys, locked my office door and headed out to the parking garage. I kept my head on a swivel as I got into my car and peeled out. I pointed my car toward home and drove like a bat flying out of hell. I knew no matter what I did they would find me. I just needed to set myself up for when they came. I went over the list of the things I wanted to do when I got home and I barely noticed the landscape as I flew through traffic. I had a full plan by the time I skidded into my driveway.

I practically ran into my house, ready to put everything into place. First up were the cameras, I had a couple nanny cams and spy cameras I used in my line of work. I set up two in the living room, two in the kitchen and three in my home office. Next I grabbed all my kitchen knives and hid them in various places throughout the house, hoping I was putting them where I could grab them at a moments notice if need be. Finally I ran upstairs to change into jeans and my favorite hoodie. Rummaging through my closet, I took out my M&P Shield pistol, checked the clip and pulled a round into the chamber before flipping the safety back on and tucking it into my jeans. Lastly, I dialed 911 into my cell phone, locked it and tucked into the folds of my office chair.

I pulled out my laptop to keep me busy while I waited. I kept fidgeting with the little beautiful black notebook. At first I kept it in my lap, then I put it in the drawer in my desk, and it finally ended up tucked into my jeans right next to my pistol, feeling like a lead weight. I hooked up all the cameras and made sure they were running properly and recording. It was unnerving to see myself on camera like that knowing what was, sort of, going to happen. At least what I was hoping was going to happen.The anticipation was killing me an hour in.

But I really didn’t have to wait long, they were there in the next half an hour, knocking on the door. Other than the Byrne family, I wasn’t expecting anyone, but I also hadn’t expected them to knock. My knees were weak and my feet were numb as I quietly walked toward the door. Through the glass I could see what looked like two expensive, shark lawyers standing on my doorstep. As I opened the door, only a few inches, I grasped the gun and pulled it out of my waistband, ensuring to keep my hands behind the closed door where they couldn’t see them.

“Excuse me ma’am, we’re with the Byrne family and we believe something of ours has come into your possession, we’d like to talk to you about that,” the taller of the two said.

I slipped the gun back into its place and let them in, gesturing toward my office not seeing any other options and surprised at their civility. I had no idea what the look on my face said but it certainly wasn’t threatening. As they walked past me, one of them grabbed my upper arm to pull me into the office, at the same time, two other men that I hadn’t seen walked through the door. One of them was clearly the boss, his suit was the most expensive, he was wearing more jewelry, his teeth were whiter, his shoes were shinier. I didn’t know the family well enough to determine which brother was here.

As soon as we reached the office, the Goon Number One didn’t take his hand off my arm as he pinned me to the desk and performed a quick, professional frisk. He removed my gun and the notebook then gestured for me to sit down. We all settled into my office, surprisingly with me actually behind my desk, the boss in one of the visitor’s chairs, Goon Number Three in the other one and Goon One and Two posted up by the door. Boss Man flashed his bright pearly whites at me in his best used car salesman smile and it was unexpectedly disarming. He pretended to pick a piece of lint off of his perfect suit and took a breath to begin,

“Adrienne, may I call you Adrienne? I shouldn’t be so presumptuous.”

I nodded, not daring to trust my voice not to shake.

“Good, good. Listen, Adrienne, you’ve come into possession of something that isn’t yours-”

“I didn’t take it, I don’t know how it got on my desk,” I cut in before I could think.

Boss Man laughed, blinding me in white light again.

“Yes, we know who put it there, a rather ambitious reporter. You don’t need to worry about that. Although, you might want to tighten up security in your office if basically anyone can walk in there,” he warned me.

Goon Number Two snickered at the door.

Boss Man continued on, “We have come here with an offer. You get five hundred thousand dollars and never mention that little book to anyone.”

I blinked at him. I had no idea what to say. This was not the plot twist I had envisioned.

“I know what you’re thinking, why aren’t we just going to kill you and take it, right? Well, here’s the thing, you have friends and family that would ask questions, there’s all kinds of forensics to think about, killing people just isn’t as simple as it used to be. It’s much cleaner to just pay people to keep their mouth shut.”

I said the only thing I could think to say, “I don’t believe you.”

The white light flashed again, I didn’t like how often he smiled, it reminded me even more of a snake, I swear I could see his fangs.

“Here’s the thing, we’re going to keep faith that you aren’t going to say anything, haven’t made a copy of the information and you are going to have faith that you will never see our faces again and that your death will have absolutely nothing to do with this interaction here today.”

Boss Man looked over to Goon Number Two and gave a slight nod. Goon Number Two lifted up the small bag he had been carrying and set it gently onto the desk, unzipping the top. I leaned up and peered into the bag to see five neat bricks of cash in the bag. I looked up at Boss Man and nodded, I had no other choice if I wanted to keep my life and that would be a nice little nest egg for the future, if I ever saw it.

Boss Man lit up the room once more and nodded, “of course, of course.”

All the men turned to leave, as Boss Man reached the door he turned around, “Adrienne, it was very nice meeting you and doing business with you. Have a wonderful day.”

And with that they were out the front door. Completely numb, I locked the door after them, somehow stumbled to the bathroom and threw up. The last thing I remember is passing out on the cold, luckily clean tile of my bathroom floor.