Richard Benton searched the face of the tall stranger on his doorstep. As the dark impassive eyes held his gaze, Richard cleared his throat and demanded, “What did you say?” The stranger sighed impatiently, took a long drag of his cigarette and replied, “They don’t have to find out about the money.” The smoke curled out from his blood red lips as he spoke in his heavy, deliberate intonation. “I am offering help,” the stranger suggested. Richard leaned back, nauseated from the smoke and the entire overwhelming situation.
For eight years, middle- aged Richard Benton worked as the head of the financial department in a successful corporation that assisted charities. In a thriving company such as that, Richard soon learned that it was easy to deceive their many clients into adding a large bonus for him. His efficient process was flawless, or so he thought. Richard managed to lay low for years, building his wealth steadily. When he accidentally misplaced a file, a curious associate read a correspondence between Richard and a client who was unsatisfied with the sudden interest increase that was irrational and unexplained. Seizing the opportunity to humiliate Richard, Madelyn Waller kept the file and planned to expose him, hopefully taking his position in the company once he was fired. She emailed him regularly, reminding Richard of the power she held over him.
“Who told you?” Richard said as threateningly as he could muster. The stranger edged his way around Richard and into the foyer.
“I’d like to sit down,” the stranger said, as he strolled purposefully into Richard’s elaborately decorated sitting room. Richard followed cautiously, feeling that he was the stranger in his own home. The visitor sat in a grand leather chair with carved mahogany armrests. Richard sank into the sofa opposite the chair. The guest’s skeletal fingers curled around the edges of the armchair as he leaned forward. “How much does that money mean to you?” He asked, his steady gaze causing Richard to shift uncomfortably on the sofa. Richard watched, interested, as the guest lit a small tea candle on the glass coffee table between them. Richard then averted his eyes, and took a sudden interest in arranging the books on a table beside him. His clammy hands shook when he thought of the consequences of losing his money. “What else do you posses? No family you care to contact, friends strayed away over the years. Can you afford to lose your money as well?” Richard stared at his hands, dumbfounded at his guest’s knowledge.
“I guess you’re right,” Richard replied, glancing up at the stranger sitting across from him. A slight grin spread across the man’s face. “But what can you do about it?” Richard pulled together his dignity and glared at the merciless eyes across from him.
“I’ll make a deal with you. Your eternal protection, for something in return,” his pallid skin seemed to glow in the dimly lit room. His eyes smoldered as he held Richard’s gaze.
“Anything! You can have anything- just please, help me,” Richard begged. His money was his world. Without it, he felt he would die. “You make sure Madelyn doesn’t notify them, and…” Richard cut off.
“And I decide your fate,” The stranger stated. A flicker of recognition crossed Richard’s eyes.
“Who are you?” He whispered, his voice trembling with awe and terror. The stranger leaned forward once again, and blew smoke into Richard’s face.
“I have many names, but they don’t really matter. All that matters is that I can help you achieve what you want more than anything else,” he said. He stood, and straightened the black jacket over his broad shoulders. “So is it a deal?” he proposed.
Richard stood and met the guest’s eyes once more, “Deal.”
“Wonderful,” the stranger said, and ground out his cigarette on the glass table.
After the company had recovered from Madelyn Waller’s strange disappearance, Richard settled into his old ways of life. He called clients regularly to remind them that they had not paid their additional fees or the increased interests on their loans. Several charities questioned his legitimacy, but as promised, they were struck down during any attempt to reveal his corruption. For twenty years, Richard profited from the charities, greedily stashing the money for himself. Once he turned fifty, he retired from his job and lived off the small fortune he had acquired. He confined himself to his house, spending his time counting his money and making calls to buy time shares in exotic countries. Richard continued to distance himself from his family, and avoided contact with the outside world as much as possible.
One stormy evening, Richard flicked through channels on the large television mounted on the wall in his bedroom. Outside the wind screamed and violently tore the leaves from the trees. When he heard the name of his previous employers mentioned on the news channel, he stopped to listen. The inappropriately cheerful voice of the announcer rang in his head, “It has been announced that the Children’s Home, here in Boston will be shut down by the Assisting Charities Corporation due to their inability to pay back the loans given to them over the course of twenty years of business. This will result in over sixty children placed in foster care. The company claims that they had been given steep increases in their interest over the years. The Assisting Charities Corporation denies that they purposefully added these payments, but agreed to investigate further. The company claims…” The power flickered out. Richard leapt from his bed and fumbled in the dark for the remote. The electricity stayed off. Thoughts streamed through his mind, one thing after another. How could this happen… eternal protection….they will find the files… sue me for all I have… Richard clicked on the flashlight from his bedside drawer and stumbled into the closet where his vault was. As he entered the combination, his hands shook uncontrollably. “Better half than everything. Just to keep them running,” he mumbled to himself as he drew out a wad of bills. He stuffed them into an envelope and addressed it to the Children’s Home.
Guided by the narrow beam of light provided by his flashlight, Richard went downstairs while securing his coat around him. As he passed the sitting room, he noticed the small tea candle on the glass table. The small flame was lit and it cast an eerie glow on its surroundings. Richard’s breath caught and he froze. He spun around frantically, shining his flashlight all around the room in a panic. When he didn’t see anyone, he grumbled to himself and shook his head, then continued out the door.
Barely making it to his car through the torrential rain and brutal wind, Richard collapsed into the driver’s seat with the envelope clasped in his sweaty hand. With the post office only two blocks away, he imagined getting back home, crawling into bed, and finally relaxing. As he tore down the street, he noticed a lofty stranger standing next to a downed electrical wire that most likely caused the power outage. He continued towards the post office, watching in his rearview mirror as the man turned toward the car and begin to casually follow it on foot despite the ghastly weather. Richard pulled into the parking lot, and stumbled towards the office with the envelope.
Richard Benton never made it back to his car. The next day, his car was found in the parking lot. An empty envelope was wedged in the window. A tea light was burning on the dashboard.
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