Page 33 of He Hate Me

“May I help you?” she asks forcefully and there’s no mistaking her accent as anything but Russian.

“I’m here to see Anton,” I tell her.

“Name?”

“Vole.” She doesn’t react to the odd sounding name, but I imagine she probably encounters them several times a day.

“One moment, please.”

She types something into her computer and then motions for me to go ahead. I hear the click of the glass door just before I push it open. Anton’s desk is straight ahead, at the back center of the floor taking up more room than seems reasonable even for the president and CEO of a multimillion-dollar organization. Corporation. I’m a legitimate businessman now, Anton told me, a statement about as believable as a shark claiming to be a goldfish.

As I approach his glass-walled office there’s another click, unlocking the door ahead of me. He’s sitting behind his desk, wearing a Brioni suit that doesn’t hide the bulging muscle underneath. Anton looks like a man who’s been in a lot of fights and won most of them. His hair is cropped short, his neck thick, his gray eyes cold. Maybe the girl at reception is his sister. They share the same snake-like quality.

“Sit,” he says, pointing to a chair. Unlike the girl outside, Anton’s accent is American, east coast maybe, though I’m only going off TV. I’ve never left the Midwest. I lower myself into the chair cautiously. Anton’s driver showed up outside school unexpectedly to bring me here, and I’m sure it isn’t to be told good news. ”How are you, Brandon?”

“I’m good,” I tell him, nervously. His unblinking eyes spark alarm in my lizard brain. I can’t help it—it’s instinctive.

“I’ve received your progress reports, but I was hoping you could talk me through them.”

“Um, of course.” I’m kind of confused because we have a standing meeting every two weeks to do exactly this, so I’m not sure why I’m at this impromptu meeting. I’m missing soccer practice to be here.

With the press of a button, a projector screen lowers from the ceiling to our left and we pivot to face it. With a few mouse clicks, Anton has a 3D model of the house projected onto the screen. The rooms are color coded blue for Devin and Tanisha and red for Deja. My room and the common areas are shaded yellow, with the frequently used rooms a brighter shade than the less frequented ones. Rooms I’ve cleared have a thick black border around them.

I clear my throat.

“Since we last met, I’ve had a chance to search two of the high-profile targets: the master bedroom and Devin’s office. No one else was home when I did it, so I had time to be thorough.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t find what we’re looking for?”

“No. There’s a floor safe in the walk-in closet. The code was written on a card in a lingerie drawer. There wasn’t anything significant inside—some jewelry, financial documents, birth certificates. I took pictures and forwarded them to you. There’s also a small safe in the office, but I couldn’t get that one open.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you found nothing?”

“I…yeah. But if I can get the office safe open there’s a chance what we’re looking for is in there.”

I point to each room on the model as I count off. “I also hit the second-floor guest room, the linen closet, the back stairs, and the laundry room. There’s still the maid’s room next to the laundry. It’s really unlikely that’s the place, but we can’t rule anything out.”

“What about the attic?”

“I used the snake you gave me through the ceiling, and it looks like nothing but blown insulation. If you want to be sure, I can provide the domestic schedule. You can probably swap someone in for the pest control guy.”

“That’s not the worst idea, but I’d like to keep that in reserve till we’ve eliminated every other option. I don’t want Devin to sniff anything that might spook him.”

“I need some help with the safe in his office. I don’t know how to open it.”

“What kind of safe is it?”

“I’m not sure. There’s a combination lock.”

“Send me a picture and I’ll arrange something. I’ll let you know when it’s in the pickup location.”

Another trail run, then. At least it helps my stamina and balance.

“How are you adjusting to the new school?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.

“Fine,” I say. “Everything’s great.”

“Wonderful. Any new friends? A girlfriend?”