Chapter 202: The Search IV: Roman

As everyone dispatched to go work on the jobs I had given them, I decided I needed a drink. I poured myself a shot of bourbon and downed the amber liquid in one gulp.

The way the police were most likely bumbling the situation, I was pretty sure they’d be useless.

I knew for certain there were one of two situations at play - either Hannah’s kidnapping was linked to the Auction House, or it had something to do with that creep, Nick Greene, who had tried to disguise himself as a bodyguard. Either way, Hannah was in trouble.

With the bourbon glass still in my hand, I noticed the people still left in my office babbling to each other.

I was normally pretty coordinated even when drunk, but for some reason, with everything that was going on and the loss of Hannah, I stumbled for a second, reaching for my employment files on my desk and dropped the glass tumbler I’d been holding. The glass crashed to the floor and shattered into what seemed like a zillion pieces.

Glittering in the office lights from above, the pieces of glass shimmered, and I stared at them. The glass. The shattering noise. The danger.

All those things reminded me of the car that had tried to gun me down on the street.

I didn’t even realize how long I had been standing there, entranced, when Lauren came over to tap my arm. "Roman, are you alright?"

Shaking my head a little to bring me back to the present, I looked at her. "I think - the car - that black car was the same one that tried to get me..."

Lauren pressed her hands on my shoulder. Lori had been busy grabbing some paper from the printer and using it to sweep up the glass shards, utilizing the paper like a dustpan.

I’d been pressed into leader mode, delegating tasks, and with my anger at everything that had happened, I hadn’t quite processed my thoughts.

"Ed," I called from across the room. "Remember that incident on the street? A few weeks ago?"

"Yeah," he walked over to me. I cued up the video footage again on my computer.

"See," I said, pointing to the dent on the black car that slid across the screen. "Dented just where it crashed into that parked car."

Ed nodded.

"I was almost mowed down, but whoever it was had failed. Now, Hannah’s been taken, and they’ve succeeded. I need more footage from that day. The license plate. Anything," I pressed Ed. "It’s the same car."

"On it," said Ed.

But I knew I couldn’t leave it up to him and Marcus. The police had been just as much help that day as they were being now about Hannah’s disappearance. It made me think they didn’t want to get involved with any FBI matters or criminal conspiracies, but I knew these incidents had something to do with Auction House or the mysterious Nick - or both, as they could be connected.

Looking at my desk and around my office, buzzing with people despite the late hour, I remembered that I was Roman Thaddeus - a billionaire businessman that had all kinds of resources and connections at his fingertips.

Immediately, I hurried out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Lauren called after me.

"I’m going to get my girl back," I said coolly, as confident as if I were a superhero who had just unleashed his secret powers.

In my car, alone, I thought about how I hadn’t been without a bodyguard, one of the FBI agents, or Hannah in a long time. It was almost refreshing speeding along the city streets, no one tracking me. It was also a little bit dangerous, and I thrived on the adrenaline rush it gave me.

Most of the time I was driven by someone, but Miguel had parked my car at the office after driving me over from the club.

Now, I drove through the blocks, revving the engine after every red light, coursing through the streets. My destination was somewhere in New Jersey on the outskirts of the city, and I headed there, confident in my new plan.

I parked outside of a crumbling office building.

It was the address listed for the security firm where I had inadvertently hired a Nick Greene to protect Hannah and me. The structure wasn’t like I expected, but for all I knew at the time, it was just a front, anyway. I parked in the back and took a post sitting outside beyond the trees.

As the sun was rising for the day, offering a bit of light which grew brighter every second, I stayed hidden, watching and waiting for people to enter the building.

Two women entered, and then, one by one, three men with computer bags made their way through the doors.

I wasn’t expecting to see Nick Greene - I mean the pseudo-Nick, the fake bodyguard - and I was pretty sure the address had just been a front.

But it had nagged me, seeing the address on the paperwork. There had to be some clue there, I reasoned.

After a few more people entered the building, I decided to go in.

Upon entering, I could see the list of businesses, and noticed the security firm was located on the fourth floor.

Entering the elevator, a distinctive smell of tuna fish sandwich wafted up my nose. I got off on the fourth floor and looked around for the door. There were several, and I stalked to the left, seeing a large wooden door with the name of the security company painted on in gold letters.

I banged on the door, but there was no answer. I banged again.

Finally, an older woman with grey hair in a tight bun and glasses opened the door.

"Can I help you?" she said.

"Yes, I’m looking for my wife."

"The private detective is on floor three," she said and began to close the door.

"No." I held my hand inside before she could shut it. "I meant to say, I’m looking for my wife. One of your agents was supposed to protect her - a Nick Greene. But someone else showed up instead," I told her.

She looked me over, clearly not sure if she should trust me or not. "Nick Greene? Yeah, shame what happened to him."

"Have the police found out anything? Given you any information, because..."

"Shhhh," she said, peering out the door and looking down the hallway - first one way, and then the other.

She waved me inside, and I stepped in to the small office.

It almost looked like a one-woman show with only one desk and a chair in front of it.

The rest of the office was filled with filing cabinets.

"We’re still waiting to hear about what exactly happened to Nick. Bizarre. At first we heard it was a suicide, but now we’ve been informed it may have been foul play."

"It was foul play, alright. Someone killed him, and then tried to infiltrate my life and who knows what else." I was beginning to think this woman didn’t know anything. It would just be another dead end.

"Well," she looked up and said in a quiet voice, "I keep all the records here in these filing cabinets."

"I know that it was my cousin Rachel who called about the security, but how would anyone have known? Could Nick have told someone?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Could be. Before he worked here, he worked theater security, but I heard him talk about briefly working as a bouncer or a security guard at some place downtown. He came with excellent references." She nodded her head.

"A place downtown?"

Suddenly, everything clicked, and I went cold.

"Was it called the Auction House?" I probed.

"Maybe. Not sure," she said, pulling out a sheet of paper. "Here it is. Yes, a Rachel called for personal security for the Thaddeus family. That must be you," she looked at me over the rim of her glasses.

Everything in that office was old-school, from the furniture to the hard copies of records to the administrative lady. It seemed I wasn’t going to find out any more, and I should just cut and run, but there was one last avenue I thought to explore.

"And no one else would have seen this paper, right?" I asked.

"No one - except me and Nick," she affirmed.

"Thank you," I said, clearly disappointed I hadn’t found out more.

"Sorry I couldn’t be more help. I know you must be missing that dear little red-head terribly."

I was about to grab the doorknob when I stopped.

I’d never told her Hannah’s hair color or anything else about Hannah for that matter.

"How did you know that?" I asked. "About her hair." "I - I - I..." the woman stammered.

I stepped closer to her. Something was wrong. I could tell. Yet, I couldn’t hurt an old woman.

I stared at her, considering how I could get the truth. Hannah’s life depended on it.