Page 80 of Afraid to Hope

Amastan stared at Natasha with disdain.

“Do it,” Bane said, pushing up into his full height. “Everything will be fine if you do as we ask. Up with you.”

The shopkeeper’s hand quaked as he extracted his key from his loose-fitting shirt and deposited it in Natasha’s open hand. “I would like some water,” he croaked before unfolding from the cushion and standing unsteadily.

“I’ll go get water for all of us,” Natasha offered. “There’s a food store across the way.” The bell above the front door rang as Natasha shut it behind her.

Amastan led him downstairs into the tiny cellar and to a closet without a door that served as an office. The ceiling was low, forcing Bane to move while bent over. He glanced around, noting that Amastan had made a thick sleeping pallet out of blankets in another corner of the cellar. A small squat table covered with a beautiful cloth was next to it, and on top of it was a tea set and oil lamp on a metal tray. “You sleep here?”

“Sometimes deliveries and pickups are scheduled very early or very late. It’s easier to stay here than go home.”

“I see. Where are the ledgers?”

“I will get them.”

“You tell me where they are. Have a seat.” He motioned the shopkeeper next to the wall where he could keep an eye on him.

“Under the table.”

Bane knelt down and lifted the covering of the table. Underneath was a metal box. He opened it, finding two books in bad condition that resembled the ledger Natasha had discovered in her grandfather’s office. “Any others?”

“No.”

Bane pulled the pallet apart and checked behind the papers littering the walls. He examined the walls, floor, ceiling, and solid steps. The desk Amastan used for his computer was planks of wood assembled without drawers or doors. Nothing.

“Okay. Get up. Open your program.”

Amastan sat at on the spindly stool in front on the computer and began typing. The program appeared on-screen.

Bane stood behind Amastan, who was seated and sweating, taking photos of the entries. He tapped a pen on a torn sheet of paper next to the computer. “Now write down your log-in information and shut it down.”

“What?”

“I’m confirming you gave me the correct information. Just in case I need to access it later if I have further questions. After all, we are considering a new business venture.”

Amastanstared at Bane with dread,bobbing his head furiously as he scribbled the information on the paper and shut the program down.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Bane said, setting the ledgers on the desktop and carefully straddling the small stool, unsure if it would hold his two hundred and twenty pounds. He opened them, the camera whirring as he took pictures of the log-in information and the numerous pages in the ledgers. He checked the images on the display screen as he went. “Good.”

Amastan returned to where Bane had made him sit earlier.

Not long after, Natasha came down the steps as he was logging into the program.

“Low ceiling,” she commented, unable to straighten.

“Yeah.” Bane focused on what he was doing.

“Fill me in.” She handed him a water and opened one herself before giving the last bottle to the sulking shopkeeper.

Bane whistled. “Look at this.”

Natasha leaned over Bane. “Jesus!”

“Where are the others?” she asked Amastan.

Bane sat upright and stretched his back and opened his water.

“The facilitators took them when they came, and I was given a replacement.”

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