Page 84 of Man of the Year

“How long?”

Julien pulls a phone out of his pocket and checks it. “The tracker says they left Manhattan about ten minutes ago. They’ll be here by ten. You do what you need to do.”

Is it ten in the evening or morning?

Walter shakes his head, giving Julien a murderous stare, then storms out of the guest house.

Julien takes a seat at the computer desk, retrieves a hard drive out of his pocket, and plugs it into one of the computers. The screen immediately comes to life, showing rapidly scrolling lines of code, flashing text, windows opening and closing.

I have so many questions. Why is Julien here? How does Walter fit in? Why are they dressed like that? Why is he copying stuff off Nick’s computers? Why does Nick have so many computers?

I silently watch Julien, waiting for him to explain, meanwhile observing his body language.

His elbows on the desk, Julien leans with his forehead onto his hands. He’s either deep in thought or in some kind of trouble. After a short while, he shifts and picks up his phone again. I can’t see what he’s doing, but when I hear the familiar voices coming from it, they make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“The dinner with the board went well, right?”

It’s Rosenberg’s voice.

No one responds.

“What now? IxResearch is public. It’s a done deal.”

Silence.

“Nick, when do I get the money?”

Silence.

“I’m getting the money soon, right? Like you promised?”

Then comes Nick’s voice.

“Shut the fuck up, okay? Let me think.”

I gasp in shock.

Julien tilts his head to the side, as if it helps him hear better.

“Once we get to the house, this little circus is over,” Nick says.

“What do you mean it’s over? I need the money you promised.”

“You will get what I give you. Everyone gets what they deserve.”

“No one else will get hurt, right? Wearegoing overseas, right? Under new identities. Yousaidthat.” Rosenberg sounds hesitant, almost begging. “None of those women deserved it.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve kept your mouth shut.”

“Nick! Let’s just go, like you said?—”

“Oh,nowyou feel sad?Nowyou feel sad, you piece of shit? How about?—”

There’s a loud thud, followed by a moan, and things go quiet.

Nothing about this makes sense. I gape at Julien, who presses the button on the mic clipped to his shirt. “Something else came up. I think Nick is going to get rid of Phil Crain… Yes, tonight. We can’t let that happen. We don’t finish this tonight, we lose him… We will try, yes.”

“Julien, what’s going on?” I ask.

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