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"Downing," Courtney greeted him, her voice a modicum of calm.
"Courtney, Brad," Downing nodded at us, a flicker of concern briefly crossing his otherwise stoic face.
"We're ready," I said, my voice echoing our resolve.
Downing nodded, gesturing toward a soundproof booth in his office's corner. It was prepped for our mission—to place the initial call to Tyree.
"Listen carefully, Courtney," Downing began, his gaze steady. "I will be monitoring the call, trying to trace it. It's imperative that you keep Tyree on the line for as long as possible. I need time to pinpoint his location."
Courtney gave a quick nod, Downing's game plan soaking into her like a sponge. She shared how she had tried reaching out to Nanc via her trusty flip phone, checking to see if Tyree had visited City Deli since her last report. Nanc's categorical 'no' only intensified the enigma of Tyree’s whereabouts.
"Good," Downing affirmed, his tone crisp and reassuring. He steered Courtney towards the solitude of the soundproof booth. Just as she was about to step in, she glanced at me for reassurance.
'I love you,' I mouthed to her, my confession hanging silently in the space between us. The booth door clanged shut, echoing a sense of finality. We were back to the stifling silence of Downing's office. The hum of machinery and the sporadic pings from active equipment were the only intrusions, punctuating the heavy quiet.
The glow from screens morphed into elongated, eerie shadows, turning the room into a scene ripped straight from a contemporary suspense novel. The silence was pregnant with anticipation. The tension wound tight, ready to snap at the tiniest trigger.
Chapter Fifteen
Courtney
Planted in the heart of the sound booth, the cool dampness of anxiety slicked across my palms. The understated drone of machinery hummed through the room, weaving an unusual harmony with the steady rhythm of my pulse echoing in my ears. Downing's recent rundown of our strategy had my nerves jangling like an overplayed guitar string, and the plan—a delicate cocktail of high-risk maneuvers – was starting to feel more like a tightrope walk above a canyon.
The room was bathed in a dim wash of light, the pale glow casting uncanny specters across the space, each shadow seeming to dance and morph with a life of its own.
Outside, through the glass, I could still feel the frosty weight of Brad and Giuseppe's stares. Their faces carved deep with worry lines, were like open books of concern. Their laser-focused attention on me sent ripples of chill cascading through me, making the reality of the situation all the more palpable. It was a high-stakes chess game, and I was the queen piece, vital and vulnerable, with the outcome of our perilous gambit balancing precariously on my every move.
With a deep breath, I lifted the flip phone, the tiny device feeling ominous in the palm of my hand. Despite the chaotic storm of emotions threatening to consume me, I managed to keep my hand steady as I located the number on the photo of Clint's business card.
The line started ringing, each tone echoing ominously against the silent walls. Time seemed to stretch on. Then, abruptly, there was a click, and Clint Tyree's voice filled the booth.
"Courtney! Where are you? I’ve been trying to find you!” He sounded both surprised and pleased, a chilling contrast to the dread pooling within me.
"Mr. Tyree," I replied, forcing an uncharacteristic cheerfulness into my voice to match his seemingly upbeat demeanor. I lied to him, saying I was in Maine with my father. It felt strange and unsettling to be so deliberately deceitful.
To my surprise, Tyree mentioned that he was starting a new business venture in Seattle. Then, he began talking about the need for someone with my skills, particularly in information technology and app development.
"But, Mr. Tyree, I was only an assistant," I protested weakly, my voice faltering slightly.
“That's perfectly fine, Courtney," he assured me, his voice smooth and soothing. The very calmness in his tone sent a shiver of fear through me. "I believe you have great potential."
A pause. Then he continued, "In fact, I'd like to invite you to Seattle. I want you to meet some of my associates and discuss your role in the new project."
Seattle? My mind raced as I processed his words. He wanted me to travel to him—to walk right into the lion's den.
"That's... generous," I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady. But the tremors of panic were creeping in, lacing my words with uncertainty.
"It's nothing but the best for my team," Tyree continued, his voice brimming with unwavering confidence that only heightened my fears. He was persuasive, dangerously so. And his offer, although tempting on the surface, was a stark reminder of his true nature—unpredictable and treacherous.
As he started talking about potential flight dates and times, the enormity of what I was about to do hit me like a tidal wave. The flip phone slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, clattering onto the table, the line going dead. “Oh, God!” I moaned.
Brad was by my side in an instant, his arms wrapping around me instinctively as my body began to shake uncontrollably. Tears stung my eyes and spilled down my cheeks, a physical manifestation of the fear and tension bubbling beneath the surface.
"Courtney, it's okay," Brad murmured into my hair, holding me tightly as I sobbed against his chest.
The booth suddenly felt too small and confining, yet at that moment, it was just the two of us, ensnared in our private universe of fear and comfort.
Downing's calm voice cut through the silence as my sobs began to subside. "Courtney, you're doing fine," he said through the tiny speaker embedded in the booth's wall. "Remember, you're not alone in this. I just need a little more time to trace his location."
