20,000

He hadn’t expected the tall stranger. No one ever expected this tall stranger.

Ray was an accountant.

“Hey,” the tall stranger said. “Do you need $20,000?”

Ray considered it. Yes, he needed $20,000.

“What would I have to do?”

The tall stranger took out a small black book, nicely bound. “I need this deciphered.”

“I’m not in that business.”

“It’s numbers.”

Ray held his hand out for the small black book. The tall stranger smiled. “Not yet. I will give you this small black book once you have agreed to decipher it. When you are done, I will pay you $20,000.”

“When do you want it?”

“In a week.”

Ray drummed on the table, then stopped. It was the wrong thing to do.

“What if I can’t decipher it?”

“You can. This is what you can do.”

“And if I don’t?”

“It’s too late. You will do it.”

Ray turned every page of the small black book. The figures ran together, and changed color. That would be the first challenge.

Each page had a different color sequence, different phases, and the numbers flowed away at different rates. It was a pretty thing to watch, and it was an elegant thing to decipher.

Not all accountants are only accountants.

Ray wore thick glasses. He was prematurely gray. He wore a corduroy sports jacket. He was ignored a lot. He didn’t mind. He didn’t want to be noticed.

He wasn’t pleased the tall stranger had found him. But this small black book was interesting to him.

Now he had to deduce the key.

And he felt as if he knew it, sometime in the past.

The tall stranger knew who he was. The tall stranger knew that he knew that the tall stranger knew who he was. Did it matter? Why was the small black book in the hands of the tall stranger?

And now Ray had it. Soon he would have $20,000.

He couldn’t remember the key. He had known, a long time ago.

There were the colors. They reminded him of the good times, when he was young. A song played in his mind as he watched them. He counted the cycles, he worked out a pattern. Inside that pattern, where the numbers lived, was the key.

He held the small black book for hours. It was coming back to him, slowly at times, then a rush of memories. Not enough. He had four days left. It was getting closer.

He drew pages of numbers, pages of symbols, tipped in colors with paint. Ray taped the pages to the wall of his office. It was started to make sense. A different sense.

There was a memory. One large bright memory. It was recorded in the small black book.

It was the sixth day, and he knew the key.

He was going to get the $20,000 he needed. He would not give the tall stranger the key.

The tall stranger was no stranger.

The battle between them was old. It wasn’t finished. Now it would be finished.

The tall stranger was back the next day. He was dressed in black, and he had always been. His boots didn’t fit well. His face was shadowed, no matter where he turned. He smelled of volcanoes, and the moon.

“I have $20,000 for you. You have my small black book, and you have the key.”

“Here is the key,” Ray answered, handing the tall stranger a folder with his pages.

The tall stranger gave him an envelope. Ray counted the money.

The small black book lay on the desk between them.

“It won’t do you any good,” Ray said, and picked up the small black book. This isn’t yours. It never was. How you got it, I don’t know. But I remember. I remember it now.”

“The small black book is part of the bargain!”

“No. It never was yours. I suppose you stole it as you fell through the wall. Neither the book nor the key is useful for you. There is something missing you will never have.”

“What is it? Tell me!”

“Grace. The key to the small black book is grace. You are denied it.”

“I will get it, I will use the key and solve the cypher.”

“Even if you could use it, you will never understand it. It won’t work.”

“Who are you to deny me?”

“I remember who I am.” Ray put the envelope and the small black book in the pocket of his corduroy jacket. He walked out his office door. The folder in the tall stranger’s hand burst into flames.

Ray walked down the street. There was a pawnshop. He remembered. He reached into the other pocket of his jacket and found the ticket.

“I want to redeem this.”

“$20,000, pal. It’s been a long time. Good thing, I couldn’t sell these anyway. Thanks, nice to do business with you.”

Ray took off the corduroy jacket. He put his thick glasses in the pocket, and he took out the small black book.

He slipped on his wings, and walked away.