Cure

23

March 26, 2010

Friday, 10:45 a.m.

Ben’s phone shocked him with a ring that sounded much louder than usual, causing him to jump.

“Wow!” Michael said, genuinely impressed. “You picked up before the first ring had finished. You must be expecting a seriously important call.”

“The phone scared the hell out of me,” Ben confessed. “It’s been tomb-like around here. I told my assistant not to schedule any meetings for me today, and she didn’t. It’s delightful.”

“No meetings, no phone calls,” Michael commented. “I’d be afraid I was dead.”

“It’s a great way to get some reading done. What’s up?”

“I just heard back from Dominick. I’d called and left a message about you wanting the address and phone number where Satoshi’s staying. You have a pen and something to write on?”

“Go ahead.”

“The address is four seventeen Pleasant Lane, Fort Lee. Sounds charmingly suburban.”

“If it’s a safe house, it’s not going to be charming in the slightest. Although Satoshi never complained, I imagine it’s only a little bit north of being unlivable. How about a phone number?”

Writing down the phone number, Ben noticed that it was the same area code as his in Englewood Cliffs.

“Any news on the company you are considering buying?” Michael questioned.

“Nope,” Ben said. “Carl is doing his due diligence. I don’t think we’ll have an answer yes or no for a couple of weeks.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Michael said. “I misunderstood. I thought it was days, not weeks. I’m going to have to call the prospective investor and tell him to hold his water. He thought it was only days away, as did I.”

“How well do you know this dude?”

“I’ve known him for a long time and have done work with him before. He’s an okay guy.”

“Would it be fair to say he’s in a similar business as the other angels?”

“That’s fair to say,” Michael answered. “He does well for himself, not in Vinnie Dominick’s league but respectable.”

After thanking the placement agent, Ben hung up and stared at Satoshi’s home address and phone number. Ben wondered if he should call or just stop in on the way home. The address was only a few miles from his own abode, which would make stopping by an easy proposition, but it would also put off his knowing Satoshi was safe and sound.

“Oh, what the hell,” Ben said to himself, picking up the phone. Although his paranoia was continuing to make him superstitious such that he now believed he’d be more likely to find someone home if he made the effort to drive, he’d decided to call. If the home was a Mafia safe house for a bunch of Mafia bums, it was going to be dirty and depressing at the very least.

Ben dialed the number, sat back, and smiled to himself. He was acting so juvenile. But after twenty rings and no response, Ben had to admit no one was home. It seemed that a visit was in order even though he was convinced it was going to be as in vain as calling Satoshi’s cell. Obviously Satoshi and family were in Washington having a ball while he was stressing himself out.