Chapter eight: The man I wanted to see
Douglas knocked on the door. At Griffiths' call, he entered the manager's office, closing the door behind him.
"Douglas," said Griffiths. "You're early."
Douglas nodded. He hadn't been able to get the meeting with Blake out of his head all day. Coming in early was his attempt at distracting himself.
"I called Blake's father," Griffiths said. "I convinced him to stop paying Mortar. Things should settle down, now."
Douglas nodded again, but he found himself wondering what Griffiths meant by 'convince'. Convincing Blake had required bluffing and threats. What would it have taken to convince his father?
"The girls don't know that you met with Blake," Griffiths said. "I decided it was best not to tell them. If they start questioning why Mortar stopped his search so abruptly, just tell them you don't know anything. They'll ask me next."
"And what will you tell them?"
"That I gave Blake a call. Nothing more." He leaned back in his seat. "Now that Mortar's hirer is out of the picture, the good detective shouldn't have any further reason to continue his investigation. Things will go on as usual."
There was that, at least. "In that case, maybe I should head to my office…"
Griffiths stood up. "There's no one else in the restaurant, correct?"
"There shouldn't be, but I'll have to do a sweep."
Griffiths nodded. "I'll check the front."
They made their way to the dining area. Griffiths started towards the front entrance. Douglas made his way into the corridor ahead. Griffiths' footsteps faded away as he continued on. This had become a bit of a routine for them; ever since discovering the animatronics' sentience, Griffiths had stayed up late several times (despite Freddy's insistence that he should get more sleep), and he regularly helped Douglas lock the place up before his shift.
Soon he was all but surrounded by silence. He just needed to check the cameras for intruders. He doubted he'd need to; if there was an uninvited guest here, the animatronics would probably catch them.
He passed silent, dimly lit rooms.
He stopped when he noticed something in the corner of his eye: an active camera. He gave a wave; it wouldn't be the first time the animatronics picked up the tablet.
He quickened his pace. He couldn't have Chica mess with the cameras too much…
Finally he turned a corner. At the end of the hallway ahead was the office.
And at the desk sat a man.
Douglas froze. The man glanced up, then grabbed a flashlight and shone it down the hallway, right in Douglas' face.
Only then did Douglas recognize him. He'd only seen pictures so far, but this was unmistakably the same person.
"Douglas Goodwin?" Paul Mortar said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Just the man I wanted to see."