The Book Keeper
Years had gone by since it had happened, but waking up in the morning was still the hardest thing to do. The man got up and sat by the side of the bed. He started to massage his right leg. It had been a ritual of his for almost six years now. He could barely remember a time when his leg didn't hurt. Slowly the pain subsided until it was just a dull throbbing. He finally breathed deeply and got up. It always took him a few minutes to steady himself, until he felt confident enough that his legs would hold him up.
His dog had also woken up. It lay there on its enormous cushion gently wagging its tail. The man smiled at him and slowly limped his way to the bathroom.
His apartment was small. He didn't really have lot of needs or wants. There was a small dining and drawing room with an open kitchen. There was a television which the man seldom watched. There were a lot of books, which the man read all the time. There was a dinner table with seating for two, in case he ever had company, which he rarely did. And there was a table with a game of chess in progress.
He eventually got around to making himself some green tea and breakfast. He also served the dog its meal. He was about to start having his breakfast when he remembered that he hadn't picked up the newspaper. So he opened the door and retrieved the newspaper off the welcome mat. He finally sat down to have his breakfast and started to go through the news.
The news was the same as yesterday. More govt. sanctioned violence. More people being arrested or questioned in cases related to National security. A steady rise in govt. sanctioned killings shown as escaped detainees or wanted terrorists, all under the guise of keeping the public safe. There were even rumors of people being picked up from their homes at night and never being seen again. Suspects being transported to massive hidden internment camps.
This was even worse that what Miss Groves had predicted. The man shook his head and moved on to reading the funnies. He knew that he had played a large part in bringing about this state of affairs, but he had only done what he had thought was right.
He finally opened the classifieds and scanned through them till he found the one he was looking for. It was in the real estate section. It was an ad for an apartment for rent
Apartment KD4-KD6
The owner had forgotten to put in his contact details. He picked up the newspaper and made his way to the chess board. He read the numbers again and made the appropriate move.
"Well played, my friend" he thought. He stared at the board trying to contemplate his next move. He realized he was under imminent threat of a check-mate. He was lost in thought when he looked up and realized that it was almost time for him to open his shop. He would think up his next move once he got to his office.
He called to his dog, put a strap on his collar, he picked up his keys off the table, his wallet and his walking stick. He was about to leave when he realized that social security card was still on the sideboard. He picked it up and studied it with some disdain. The name on the card read "Andrew S. Parrow". It wasn't a name of his choosing neither was the photograph, but it was all that could have been done under the circumstances and at least he still alive and free. He was definitely grateful for that.
He slowly limped his way down the street. His shop wasn't very far. It usually took him about ten minutes to get to it at his usual pace. As he limped his way towards his shop he spotted a few familiar shapes, a line of public phone booths which greeted him like old friends. He would pass them every day on his way to work and every day he would stop in front of them in the hope that one day one of them would ring. He would stand there for a while and often look up at a security camera above the booths, staring into its hollow red rimmed eye and wonder exactly who was staring back. A little while later he resumed his journey.
He finally reached his shop. He was about to bend down to open the lock, when he heard someone call out to him, "Good morning, Mr. Parrow." The man looked up to see who it was, it turned out to be Mr. Netswick and another gentleman he didn't recognize. Mr. Netswick was a former colleague with whom he had worked at the local shopping mall no less than three months ago. He lived just a few blocks down the road and they would often run into each other in the morning.
"Good morning Matthew."
"You need any help with that Mr. Parrow" asked Matthew Netswick.
"I think I can manage" answered Mr. Parrow but Matthew stepped forward and held out his hand. Mr. Parrow smiled and handed the keys over to him.
"Mr. Parrow's got a bad leg you see. Makes it difficult for him to bend down" Matthew explained to his friend as he sat down to open the locks on the shop. At this Mr. Parrow looked towards Matthew's companion. Matthew realized that he had never introduced his friend.
"Oh, sorry Mr. Parrow, this is Ricky, he started a week ago. Ricky, this is Mr. Parrow. He taught me everything I know."
"Come now, Matthew, I did no such thing" Harold replied.
"See, he's so modest. You know he was at the branch for just two months and he updated the entire IT system. The boss was so happy with him he was even willing to double his salary. But Mr. Parrow said he always wanted to open a library and so he left. But before leaving he took me on as an assistant and trained me to be the new accounts manager" explained Matthew to Ricky.
Harold blushed a little at the genuine praise from his protégé.
"So how's the Library going?" enquired Matthew.
"It's going quite well. I even started a book reading session for young children every other Saturday. That's been getting very good response."
"That's great Mr. Parrow. I'll see you later, also, Lucy say's hi" saying that Matthew moved along with the young Ricky in tow.
Harold waved goodbye to them and stepped into the Library. It was a small shop but it had that musty smell of books that he gotten used to over the last five years. It wasn't home, but it was the closest facsimile he could afford given the fact that he was almost broke. He couldn't access any of his money without alerting SAMARITAN or Decima. He had had just enough so that he could get away from that dreadful job at the mall that Ms. Groves had gotten him and start this small shop. Here at least he was happy. Broke but happy. Well he wasn't that broke.
Harold left Bear loose in the library. Bear was trained enough now that he knew not to chew on the books. Bear made his way behind a book shelf and made himself comfortable. Harold went and sat behind his counter.
He looked at the shelf in the counter and pulled out a large brown ledger. This was the thing that had solved his monetary and security issues. It wasn't an arrangement he would have made under ordinary circumstances but these weren't ordinary circumstances. He had no delusions of grandeur. He knew exactly what he was. He was a small physically disabled man with almost no survival skills. His only shield had been his anonymity and now even that was gone. Sometimes to survive you had to make a deal with the Devil, and that's exactly what he had done. The funny thing was that it wasn't he who had gone looking for the devil, the devil had paid him a visit.
It had all happened slightly over two months ago. He had been sitting behind the counter reading an old book when a gentleman had walked up to the counter and asked what the process was for becoming a member. Harold had looked up and for a while had found himself speechless. The gentleman standing in front of him seemed to have been stricken by a similar malady. The gentleman standing in front of him had rather a large scar running across his face. Harold had never enquired his name but he knew him as the colleague of his old chess mate. This was wholly unexpected. Harold finally recovered his voice and said "It's $10 a month for two books and a magazine. Magazines need to be returned in five days, books to be returned in fifteen."
"Thank you" replied the scar faced gentleman and left.
Mr. Parrow knew that this wasn't the last he would see of him. That night, being unable to sleep, he decided to go out for a walk. He left bear at home and went out on his own. That had been a mistake.
He walked around for a while, thinking as to what would happen next, when he saw three men approaching. He immediately knew what their intentions were. Harold realized that save for divine intervention; he wasn't going to get out of this situation in one piece.
The three men came closer, the biggest of them took out a large knife and approached Harold. "How about a donation, little man, towards our personal charity?" the big man said mockingly. His friends laughed.
Before Harold could reply, divine intervention happened, just not in the form that he had expected.
"I don't think your charity is worth it" said a voice from the shadows. The big man turned around, knife at the ready. The shadows parted and the scar faced man stepped into the light. The big man immediately retreated.
"Hey man, I didn't mean no disrespect. This dude here, he's your friend?" asked the big man, who had suddenly broken into a sweat in the cold weather.
Scarface nodded, "He's also Mr. E's friend. Understand?"
"Hey man, any friend of yours is a friend of ours, right guys" said the big guy and his friends nodded in compliance, "hey, sorry to disturb you man, you have a good night now" he said turning towards Harold before he and his friends ran off into the night.
Harold let out a sigh of relief. "I suppose, thank you is in order."
"No need. I was just coming over to tell you that the boss wants to meet you tomorrow. He will drop by the library. Is that alright?"
"Yes, of course" replied Harold
"And don't walk out into the night without protection, these streets aren't very safe" said the Scar faced man before he vanished into the shadows again.
The next day started badly, the pain in his leg took a long time to subside. He knew the reason for the pain and the reason was going to show up at his shop in the afternoon and he did show up, just a few hours earlier.
It was around 11'o clock. Harold had opened his shop a little late today. He was sitting there wishing that maybe he should have just taken the day off or even moved. But, that would be just postponing the inevitable and moving wasn't an option, he was broke. And so at around noon, the devil showed up. Surprisingly, the devil looked a lot like Carl Elias, the now presumed dead mob boss of New York.
"Good afternoon, Mr…" Elias paused unsure of the name he was supposed to use.
"Mr. Parrow, Andrew S. Parrow. How do you do, sir?" said Harold introducing himself.
"Good, quite good. My associate here mentioned this new library that had opened in his neighborhood. He said it had quite the collection of Fantasy and science fiction books. I just had to check it out for myself" said the bespectacled gentleman.
Harold kept looking at him questioningly. Elias smiled and continued, "No one's spying on you Mr. Parrow. My associate here actually lives around here and he is quite an avid reader. He even writes a little as a hobby, mostly fan fiction." He turned towards his scar faced friend and asked, "What was that you show you really like?"
Scarface, looking embarrassed, mumbled under his breath as Elias leaned closer to catch the words
"Yeah, Teen wolf. It's quite good actually. I watched a few episodes myself. I have a lot of spare time now that I am officially dead or haven't you heard" he said looking at Harold.
It was at that point Harold remembered reading about it in the papers over four months ago. The news report had said a decayed body with three bullet wounds had been recovered from the river, the body had later on been identified as Carl Elias, New York Mob boss and wanted fugitive.
"It was time, with HR and the Russians gone. It was easier to just die and start over under a different identity. Which brings me to believe that this," he said pointing towards to library," is more than just a temporary disguise. This feels more permanent. Besides I don't see John either."
Harold looked back at Elias but didn't know how to answer.
"No need to explain. I know a lost man when I see one. I too had gambled and lost everything. I know what it's like to be in a boat adrift at sea. But, in your case it feels more like being on wooden plank in the middle of a stormy ocean" said the balding man.
"Something like that." Harold nodded his head in agreement.
"So how are in regards to money" asked Elias.
"I'm fine" Harold lied.
"Look, let me come to the point. I could do with a man of your talents. I need a book keeper who is also good with old fashioned encryption, nothing digital or electronic, only analog. You do that for me and in return I will ensure that you remain protected. Let's face it, without John you are quite exposed out here" Elias said with a smile quite becoming of the Devil. "Beside you do owe your life to my friend here, think of it as repaying the debt. What do you say Harold, deal?"
Harold knew he had very few options. He could refuse. He knew Elias to be gentleman, he probably wouldn't do anything to him. He also guessed that maybe the three thugs last night, might have been a setup. But, if he refused Elias's offer, the next three thugs that he might encounter in the night might not be. He was exposed and vulnerable. He had been through a lot of different professions in his life, maybe it was time to become a criminal.
Harold held out his hand and said," Deal."
And so Harold Finch became a criminal. It really wasn't as bad as it sounded. He never did anything exciting. Every Tuesday the man with the scar would deliver a ledger. Harold would go over it and the man would pick it up again the next day. If there were any discrepancies or suggestions Harold would tell him. Some days the scar faced man would hang around for a while and pick out a book or two. He was quite an avid reader. They would often have discussions about the latest upcoming novels and TV shows. Harold had even started watching Teen Wolf. It really was quite good.
And so his days had passed, Library owner and book keeper for the New York mob.
Today was Wednesday and it was almost time for his friend to come and pick up the ledger. But, to his surprise it wasn't just the scar faced man who showed up but his boss who walked in with him.
"This is an unexpected surprise" said Harold as Elias stepped in through the door.
"I just couldn't wait for your next move. I am sure you read the morning paper" replied Carl.
"I did, and it was a very good move. You want to continue the game right now?" Harold asked.
"Why not, I have the afternoon free. Let's see if we can't finish this thing."
A little while later they were both seated at a small table next to the counter with the chess board laid out in front of them. Harold was still contemplating his next move, but his mind kept wandering off to all the various events that had been happening in the city since SAMARITAN had gone online. Elias was observant enough to know that something was bothering his friend and he did think of Harold as his friend.
"You don't seem to be too interested in saving your queen, Harold. Something's been bothering you ever since we met two months ago. I can see it in your eyes. You know you can tell me. I do consider us friends, maybe I can help" said Elias with genuine concern in his voice.
"It's nothing important" replied Harold as his eyes glanced towards the newspaper lying on the floor announcing the deaths of two more New York citizens.
Elias caught him looking and finally understood what was bothering his friend. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it, how about if I guess and you can tell me if I am right or wrong."
Harold smiled and nodded in response.
"Here's what I know so far. The govt. has a secret surveillance system that spies on us every hour of every day and I think you had something to do with it. You maybe even helped build it." Harold looked up with real shock in his eyes. Elias smiled and continued, "Come on that's not very hard to figure out. You were probably tapped into it. That's how you were always there, in the right place at the right time to help all those people. But in the past few months something has changed. The govt. or someone with enough authority has decided to use that system to turn this country in a Police State. That's why we have this sudden rise in these so called terrorist threats and rendition killings. I should know, I have lost a lot of friends in the last few months and they can say whatever they want to, but not a single one of them was involved with any kind of a terrorist group. How am I doing so far?" asked Elias
Harold was too stunned to reply.
"Did you really think I'm that stupid Harold, that I wouldn't be able to figure it out. The question however is what are you going to do about it? Our govt. is out there killing its own people in the name of safety and security while you sit here and play chess in your library."
"There's nothing I can do. I tried and I failed. I no longer have the access ot the resources to do anything about it. I lost, Carl" replied Harold with tears in his eyes.
"So what, even I've lost before, but I came back. As long as you're alive, you can always fight your way back and I have all the resources in the world. You just have to point me in the right direction. If the law abiding citizens aren't going to do anything about this, then maybe it's time the outliers should fight back. In order to feel safe, people have willingly locked themselves up in a virtual prison. This isn't freedom it's fear. Something needs to be done."
Harold just looked up and smiled sadly. They played out the rest of the game in silence. Elias won.
Soon it was closing time. As Harold stepped out he saw young Ricky make his way down the street. He waved at Harold half heartedly. Harold noticed that something was bothering Ricky and so he asked him, "Is everything alright? You looked worried." It was then that Harold noticed the absence of Matthew. "Where's Mr. Netswick?" enquired Harold.
Ricky stood silent for a while and finally replied, "He was arrested in the afternoon."
"Arrested, why?"
"I don't know. They said he was mixed up with some anti national elements. That he posted something on some social network. They took him in for questioning. Lucy, his wife, has gone to the police station. This is horrible Mr. Parrow. Matthew is good man. He would never do anything like this. All these arrests and deaths I keep hearing about in the news. Something's really wrong with this country. Something needs to be done" said Ricky pleading before he continued on home.
Harold watched him walk away, he had the look of a man who had lost something without knowing what exactly he had lost. Harold knew, what Ricky had lost was his freedom and he wasn't sure how safe he felt.
Maybe Matthew was innocent or maybe he wasn't. Maybe he had just shared some link on his social network that might have been anti govt. There was nothing wrong with that. But to SAMARITAN it was all the same. All these people were enemies and it wouldn't stop until it eradicated all dissent.
The man with the dog limped his way back to his house. He seemed smaller than usual as if some great weight had been put on his back. Harold had just crossed the phone booths when the last one rang. Harold froze in his tracks. He turned around and stared at the phone. He waited for it stop ringing but it didn't. He slowly made his way back to the phone booth and answered the phone. Strangely enough the voice at the other end of the line didn't give a number instead it gave him a name. "MATTHEW NETSWICK"
Harold put the phone down and continued his journey back to his apartment. He knew there was nothing he could do. If he tried to call John, it would put John's life in trouble and Harold wasn't ready to do that. He had lost enough in this war, Grace, Nathan. He wasn't going to lose another friend.
Harold couldn't sleep a wink that night. The morning came and Harold, after making himself some tea, sat down and switched on the TV. He went through the channels till he found the local news channel. A few minutes later, the news he was dreading came on. Matthew had been shot by the police while trying to escape custody. He had died sometime in the night at a local hospital.
Harold sat in that chair for what seemed like an eternity. Bear sat next to him, waiting for his master to come back. Harold finally got up and got ready. The library would have to wait.
He made his up the street past his shop. He finally reached a small apartment complex. He found the apartment he was looking for and was buzzed in by the owner. When he finally reached the relevant floor, he found the scar faced man waiting for him, looking at him questioningly.
"Is everything alright, Mr. Finch?" asked Scarface. The man had never used his real name in the past two months. He looked genuinely worried.
Harold remained silent for a while, as he weighed out all the various consequences of what he was about to say and do. He finally spoke, "I want you to tell your boss, that I would like to take him up on his offer. Tell him it's time to fight back. Tell him it's time to go to war."