Chapter Three (a)

FINALLY. I was finally going to meet the great "Professor Waverly" or whatever his name was. My new/temporary employer gave me the very unusual instructions to NOT give my real address or phone number or name. He told me something about Government Intervention, an IRS audit I did not want to deal with. I got a funny vibe from him though. I had learned enough from him already to know this guy (Professor Waverly) was some sort of meal ticket, and he (My 'employer') did not want me taking a chunk of his action away. I suppose I could not blame him. But NOW, after three months of indentured servitude, I would make no REAL promises, though I did make symbolic ones, while my fingers were crossed somewhere to be sure.

We pulled up in front of the great home there on top of the hill. The good Professor's home! It was lovely and tasteful. The lawn was manicured and hedges neat and straight, just as I would have expected. We pulled into the driveway right up behind a very new BMW sedan.

"Let me do all the talking" Alan warned me "You don't say shit, got it? Unless I nod. Like this:" and he did a funny thing with his head, sort of a shake and a nod at the same time. I wondered if he was on drugs already today, even though it was only 9AM.

"Okay!" I agreed. I did not care about his rules ONE WHIT, but I was so close, and this had taken so long I would agree to anything at this point to meet The Professor.

"Come on then" he said, and vibrated out of the car. He was halfway to the front door by the time I got out. Jesus. This guy was wired. Was the mustache real or ironic? I wondered for the four hundredth time in the last two months. He was a sorry specimen. That much was true.

I had to saunter, or jog, whichever verb you choose to prefer, in order to meet him at the front door. I joined him just as he was banging on the door for a second time. It seemed he was banging awfully hard. There was feeling in his banging. I sensed true emotion in his banging. I sensed familiarity, resentment, spite, in his banging. I then took one step back in case the door flew open and a German Shepherd or Mastiff or some other threat answered this assault of banging.

In fairly short order, the door was answered, and not in a violent manner. A Blond woman much younger than I was expecting to see opened the door and stepped outside. She appeared nervous, but composed, and threw her arms around Alan.

"ALAN! How are YOU? Oh Gosh, it is so nice to SEE YOU!" She withdrew and cast her gaze upon me and began to clutch her hands together. "Who is your friend here? Can I get you a coffee or tea? Water?" Alan looked at me.

"This is Zak" He said, using my real name. "No. Is he here? Did he leave already? Where is he?"

The woman shook my hand politely and told me " It is nice to meet you, Zak. I am Anne. We are happy to have you here today. Would you like a coffee or tea? Have you taken your vitamin yet today?" I began to say something and then Alan interrupted:

"Is he here or not? I have a stack of fencing to unload back at the yard."

Anne twitched and looked nervously between Alan and I. She backed up through the open door like a Chinese servant and invited us in. "HE is here. HE is holding the baby right now." She continued to back up, and I followed Alan through the front door after her.

We walked though a giant living room , dining room, past a fireplace and to a darker doorway that lead to a stairway headed down. Anne stopped at the head of it and gestured for us to continue.

“HE is down there” She indicated to the doorway with a nod, and backed up, hands folded still.

Alan marched right down the stairs while I lingered for a moment to tell her : “ Ummm.. Thanks, Anne! Nice to meet you! I’m sure I’ll see you shortly!” Not really believing any of it, but saying it out loud just the same. I turned to follow Alan down the stairs.

The stairway was dark, and there was an herbal aroma of some kind wafting up to green my nostrils. I took the steps slowly, one at a time, while sliding my hand along the wall for support. It appeared dark at floor level as well, but there was enough yellow light cast from naked bulbs to throw deformed shadows against the walls. There were no windows in this basement room. When I reached the bottom, I looked left and right, and found Alan and the man we had come to see whispering in a far corner, near a desk. Alan's hands were twitching and he seemed upset. The man I presumed to be Professor Waverly just sat behind the desk nodding in calm understanding. When he notice me approaching, he stood up, pushing Alan out of his way to greet me.