It was a small room for a small building. The walls were bare, exposing red brick and dried cement. An open window at the center of the west wall exposed the dark room to the outside world, but was too high for its inhabitants to see any life bound to the earth, with even the birds seeming to give the building a wide berth. Its curtains were half drawn, the slice of sunlight they allowed untainted bordered by rays of their sickly yellow, clashing with the dull regiment of the room's walls and deep brown of the single table at its center.
Two men sat there. One tall and dressed in a dark suit, his red hair short and combed, his moustache neat and trimmed. Light rays illuminated the heavy dust floating above the wooden surface but Agdar paid it no mind, opting instead to gaze at the man seated across from him. A much larger individual, bulky, with a mane of hair surrounding his face and sideburns that curved around his cheeks before rising to meet above his upper lip. Even in that stuffy room he wore his familiar faded green cap with small blue crosses racing along its perimeter. This was his host, Winston Oak.
Agdar had arranged the meeting the previous night, refusing anything but a firm yes as an answer. Winston had found the phone call, when he already had trouble sleeping, infuriating but had not been in a position to decline, much as he had enjoyed toying with Agdar at the time and had accepted his request. Winston had never been a popular man in the public eye but he had fallen from what little grace he had had. He had desired to build a gesture of good will to make reparations for his exposed misdeeds: a private hospital. What better way to make amends with the people than healing their sick and injured? And besides, there was little people valued more than the safety of themselves and their loved ones.
The plan had been flawless at its conception and flawless during his calculations and projections, but he had underestimated the damage dealt to his reputation. Few wanted anything to do with him and even those already aware of who he was turned their backs when he asked for support, leaving him more alone than he had been in years. He had scrounged up his own money, bought a site, building permits, materials and a workforce. It had been tense but he had hoped he'd turned a corner, with nothing but clear skies ahead.
He had been very wrong. Work had gone well at first but Oak quickly found flaws in his plans and logic. The quality of the materials he had secured were too poor. The people he had assigned were unskilled and taking too long. He suffered setbacks, further problems with those he had alienated when he tried to fix his wrongs and in the end he faced the insurmountable issue he had worked on a budget to avoid all along and ran out of money.
The project had been put on an indefinite hiatus. His workers had left. He had refused to make anything official but everyone - his workers, the public, himself - knew the truth: he had failed. He had failed and what little dignity he had left was slipping away, fast. Oak had panicked for weeks, staying up at night, digging deep and asking all those he knew for help. They had all turned him down. It was over.
It had been as sleepless a night as the last when he had received the phone call, played hard to get and given in. Now he studied Agdar, just as Agdar's green eyes bored into his.
"My first question dear friend," Agdar's eyes narrowed at the jibe, "given you turned me away - how long ago was it?"
"Three months."
Oak remembered the encounter all too well. It had been a month since he realised his project was sinking and he had reached out to anyone who could help. Agdar had been one of those who sneered him out of their doors. At least most of his potential saviours had had the decency to make false promises or masked their insults in subtlety.
"Ah yes, three months. You turned me away three months ago but now you're willing to all but build my hospital for me. Why is that?"
"I had a change of heart. Perhaps you should stop asking questions, lest my spell of selflessness comes to an end."
There was an edge in his voice as he finished speaking that hadn't been there before. It was a sudden shift, one that still caught Oak by surprise despite witnessing it many times in the past. Agdar himself did not change, still sitting in the cheap wooden chair with his back straight and his hands held together on the table between them, regal as ever.
"Is that supposed to be a joke?" Winston leaned back in his own chair and studied his guest, reaching out with his giant left paw to hold the underside of the desk for support when the front legs of his seat rose. The toes of his right foot tensed against the floor. "What do you want?"
"Assuming you accept my help, I ask only for full creative control of your little goodwill project."
"Meaning?"
"What I say goes."
"And you expect me to agree to that?" Winston came forward, chair legs hitting wooden planks one after another. Now he leaned over the table, his right palm slamming the surface between them. "Then what am I for? I'm not desperate enough to let you take all my glory Agdar."
Agdar still did not change. "And I'm not desperate enough to take your glory, nor do I need it. You on the other hand are months from losing everything you've gained in the past few years. Rest assured: if I wanted to, I could easily take this by force and put you back on the streets."
Winston pulled back and took a deep breath, but did not answer. Agdar hunched his back slightly, raised his hands so they now rested before his mouth and nose and tented his fingers, resting his elbows on the table.
"In return for giving me creative control, you may remove my name from everything associated with your asylum."
"Usually people say 'hospital' first. Then asylum."
"Now it's just an asylum."
Winston cocked his head and again studied the man in the opposite chair. The dust cleared from the air by his sudden gesture had since been replaced and a flake passed before Agdar's eyes. Winston tracked it until it disappeared into the air and paused with his head turned to the left side of the room, taking in the simple wooden door at the far corner with the small glass panel showing the dark corridor beyond, then returned his attention to his guest. He still could not decipher his thoughts.
"That still leaves me indebted to you for the money. What do you want for that?"
Now it was Agdar's turn to look away, to Oak's right. Only Agdar's head turned much faster and his eyes darted from the window, to the left curtain, to a point below the sill and back again. His tented fingers slowly tightened until his hands trembled with the pressure. Oak raised his eyebrow but, in a flash, Agdar returned to his composed state.
"I'll give you two more things. The first is a deadline: next year." At this he gestured behind his right shoulder to the door he had used to enter the room, the same door Oak had lost himself in observing. "This place is mostly finished. Just finish the North Wing, add some paint and facilities - all possible in that time."
Oak could feel a tension in the air as he jerked his head in a curt nod, chin arcing toward his left collarbone. "Optimism is deadly in this business, but go on."
"The second..." Agdar looked away, staring again at the wall beneath the window. He exhaled. "The second will be your first patient." He turned back to him. "And you will let them disappear."
"And once the big lug finishes pontificating, you can ask him about your sister." Anna's jaw dropped. Agdar forced himself to smirk in response and felt a strange sensation in his jaw as it obeyed his command. He continued, ignoring its protest. "As I highly doubt you'll refuse the best offer I'll be making you, I'll start with the arrangements now."
Anna demanded information of course. She was always impatient and this was far greater mystery than what she would be getting for her birthday. He had refused and kept a passive expression as she marched from the kitchen in frustration. He waited, composing his own thoughts, until he heard the slam and lock of her bedroom door and sighed.
He fought down the sick feeling rising in his chest like bile, the same feeling that had tortured his jaw and took another deep breath. Ithun stepped into the doorway and they locked eyes. There was silence as they contemplated what was to happen. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and gave a few quick nods. She responded with one of her own and left a second time.
He waited once more for signs of life from Anna's room and heard a muted thud as she fell into her bed. He nodded to himself once more and pulled his phone from his pocket. He opened a menu, swiped through his contacts and tapped the one he wished to call, a number he had saved for over a decade yet had never needed to dial.
Until now.
He took more breaths to compose himself, but each ring ricocheted through his skull, beating it like a drum. It was almost a relief when the phone was answered.
"Agdar, what can I do for you?"
"Fulfill your end of our bargain, dear friend."
There was a moment's pause in which Agdar pictured the frown Oak had stepped out of the conversation to make. It calmed his nerves, but it was a leaky bucket to a roaring inferno.
"What happened?"
"My daughter."
"All that hard work and you let your daughter get the better of you?" Oak's laugh burned. Agdar's eyes slammed shut and his teeth clenched, both reactions outside his control. "How?"
Agdar found himself in the eventual silence, though the laughter's ghost still haunted him. "A former employee with a mouth too big for his own good. I'll handle him. You deal with An - my daughter."
"And how hard will that be?" The ghost flitted into Oak again. Once his brief chuckle died out he continued. "Do you have anything in mind?"
"For her? Yes, funnily enough. A short while ago I met a woman - Gretel? Something archaic - whose daughter could use your services. I gave you her details then. Book an appointment with her just after your performance. I'm sure she'd be eager to meet someone as important as you."
"I assume you're sending Anna in your stead?"
Agdar grimaced once more. "Yes. Test her resolve for me. The security I assign her for the night will bring her to you, if she doesn't find you herself."
"I wish you could be there for once, but oh well. Should be a fun way to end the night. I'll let you know how it goes, yes?"
Agdar could only grunt in response. There was a split second of silence before Oak disconnected and Agdar could imagine him leaning back and laughing again. He switched his phone off and curled his fingers around it, letting its shell dig into his palm. His grip tightened and he felt the edge push against the base of his thumb. He deserved it.
Just not for this.
Winston pressed the fingers of his right hand to his mouth, widened his eyes to a comical degree and gave a high pitched gasp. "My first patient? Ooh!" He clapped his hands and giggled, a gross caricature of a child. "And who is this special person?" He laughed, genuinely this time, at his joke. He heard a quiet tremble beneath the table when Agdar replied and felt it through his feet pressed to the floor.
"You'll find out soon enough."
"But surely I should know what I'm getting into and how hard it will be hide them, yes?"
"I can tell you that myself." The edge was back in Agdar's voice, but it was weaker. His eyes bored into his, but they were no longer as keen as when he entered. His head, once held straight, now tilted ever so slightly to his right. "I bring them to you, you'll look after them. I'm not naive enough to believe you can have a patient without a trail, but you keep them hidden. Anyone tries to connect them with me, you turn them away." At this the trembling stopped, but due to Winston's immense height he had already seen Agdar's right hip trembling in time with the tremors: his leg had been shaking.
"Do you honestly think that'll work?"
Agdar's head tilted further as he gave him a sad smile. "No. I can think of at least one person who'll most likely find her."
A second slip. Winston's mind raced as he replied, narrowing the already small list of possibilities and hoping Agdar would not catch himself again. "You won't give me a name?"
Agdar's smile faded, leaving only its sadness on his face. "No. It wouldn't mean anything to you anyway."
"Why not?"
"Too young for one thing."
Another clue and a significant one at that: an age. "Yet you're scared of this fledgling adversary?"
"Not scared, no. But they're the only variable here I can't account for. True, she could forget her -" A pause. "I prefer to deal in certainties."
It wasn't like Agdar to make so many mistakes. Was this a trap? Winston peered at him. No. It was something far more surprising.
And very informative.
"You're ashamed, aren't you?"
Winston couldn't help grinning at the notion and barely concealed a roar of laughter. Agdar smiled again and straightened his head, though his expression was no happier. Winston wondered if this was the end of Agdar's vulnerability and cursed himself for his own slip when his guest responded. "You may understand if you ever have someone to care for. Do we have a deal or not?"
Winston cocked his head. Agdar was doing this for a female who he thought would one day be found be a second, a young one, once she grew up. He was not a charitable man and not many would consider him a true friend. He also wanted the patient kept a secret, so it must be someone close to him - someone who, if exposed, would reflect poorly on him. He wasn't seeking to institutionalise his wife; she was fine. But there were other females close to his heart who only a few knew of. Of course, anyone shrouded in secrecy is also shrouded in gossip and sometimes gossip has a foundation in fact.
"Relax! I'm sure Anna will understand."
Agdar's expression of shock was so vivid he had to take a moment to tilt his head again, smile and admire it. He had just broken two of Agdar's barriers and he planned to savour the moment.
"Wealth isn't an indicator of intelligence dear friend," he added. Agdar swallowed and nodded, a hoarse croak his only reply. "Now, when is my deadline exactly?"
He had refrained from calling the number for 16 years but had had to dial it twice in a week. Agdar's irritation was only exacerbated when Oak received his call and had not even managed a "Hello" before bursting into laughter. The horrid sounds burned the inside of Agdar's ears just as they did before. He had been on edge before making the call and now only just pulled himself back from the brink and cut through Oak's cackles in a clear, cold voice.
"If you're done, care to tell me what happened?"
Oak wheezed out a few "Okay"s and gasped for breath. Just when he seemed to have finished he broke down in a second fit. Agdar grit his teeth and drummed a rapid beat on his knee, gazing around his living room determined to ignore him. He focused on the contrast between the marble white sofa on which he sat and the rich, dark brown of the mahogany lamp beside him. Oak coughed and Agdar heard him thump his chest with a strong hand.
"You should have seen her! She just broke down and ran!"
"Not much resolve then."
"Of course not. Gretel's girl isn't even half as bad as yours and if -"
Oak stopped. Agdar frowned. Had the line been cut? But he could still hear the background noise in Oak's office, so -
He noticed the tension in his jaw and that he was gritting his teeth. Another split second passed before Oak continued, hesitant, cutting Agdar's realisation short.
He had stopped because Agdar had snarled.
"- your second can't handle her... well. She won't have much fun with your first born either. Is she home yet?"
Agdar shook his head quickly to dispel his surprise, making a mental note to study the outburst later and ensure it didn't happen again. He wondered if he should be worried of Oak witnessing the slip but discarded the thought: Oak could do far worse if he wanted and besides, if all went to plan, the two would never have to speak - at least not privately - ever again. He caught himself before his thoughts spiraled further and returned to the conversation.
"I estimate it'll take her another 20 minutes unless traffic worsens."
"Well, tell her I said hi, won't you? And your blabbermouth - still talking?"
"No. If there's anything else?"
"Well, I have to say I'm disappointed in you. That daughter of yours? Nothing like you at all. I'd look into that if I were you."
Oak stopped for effect but Agdar just closed his eyes. The man had so many personal taunts at his disposal yet chose an immature jab to get a rise out of him? He was still the same overgrown child he had been for the past twenty-odd years.
"Nothing to say? Alright then. Second, am I allowed to say your precious daughters' names yet? I'm sure I've earned the right by now, yes?"
Oak had not meant that as a taunt, but Agdar rose to meet it all the same. He could think of nothing but the disgust he felt for this man and how he dared insult his children.
"Either one is worth a million of you, Oaken." He let the threat hang in the air. Oaken wasn't the only one who could twist a name into a play for dominance, nor was he his superior in that little game. "And they're the only reason you can afford this call. Remember that."
He hung up, triumphant for a few shining seconds before the world hit him again, returning him to the enduring inferno.
"Either one is worth a million of you."
Or me.
Agdar, ever the gentleman when he wanted to be, fulfilled his end of the bargain. His good name secured everything Winston needed; all of a sudden he had the money he need to buy quality goods and pay his workers well (at Agdar's insistence). Agdar helped him through the consequences of his hiatus and sudden desire to change his development plans and even his benefactor's optimism bore fruit: the Oak Family's Mental Health Clinic opened just two weeks past his deadline.
And the opening was an undeniable success. Winston had again misjudged his public image but while the world did not see him as the shining knight he had hoped it would, he knew he had placed a foot in the door barring his way to making his goal a reality. Agdar gave Oak's clinic its first patient as promised and made no complaints when Oak removed his name from each of his new legal records and assets.
Including a little girl, two weeks past her fifth birthday.
