The Devil's Copper by Jamie Crothall (ebook audio reader .TXT) 📗

now on.  And don’t screw this up, understood?  Our busy season is…well…it’s our busiest season!”

“Got it.”

I got set up at my desk, and conferred with Pat on anything I might have missed.

We began the normal morning routine; assessing the various job requirements, looking at our available equipment and the expertise of our drivers and labourers, taking into account the urgency of each job, and setting up a morning schedule for all work orders.  Then, of course, Joey would come along, review the job board, and change it all around based on what he thought made more sense.  This usually involved a lot of confused drivers who were sent on their way without even knowing where they were going or what they were going to do when they got there.  Once all drivers were dispatched, the general hubbub in the building would subside, and I was left to deal with the aftermath.

“I might have to go out and do a few jobs myself today,” our fearless leader said, looking at the board.

He wouldn’t have had to if he followed the original plan.  Once again, I had to remind him that his Class D license expired over fifteen years ago.  That was normally enough to get his mind off of it.

By noon, things had calmed down, and I was able to go into the spare office to use a more private phone.  I called home to see if there had been any messages left.  There was nothing.  I went into the bathroom, hoping to wash my face with cold water.  I stopped when I saw Joey leave the office wielding a large ruler, an exacto knife, and of course his dog, sitting comfortably in his jacket like a baby kangaroo.

I turned to Pat. “What’s he doing?”

The kid smirked.  “Well, he figured there was no point in having our phone number on the portable toilets.  He said that when a job site needs another one, they typically contact their head office who orders it.  So he’s decided it makes sense to cut the phone number portion off of the labels.”

I gave myself a few minutes to process that, but it still made no sense.

“Okay.  Sure.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I shook my head.  “Yeah, I’m good.  Just not sleeping well.”

Fortunately, our mutual employer was distracted from his dynamic attempt at self-inflicted corporate espionage when one of his visitors came a calling.  In order to make him feel like a pillar of the community, he had a steady string of dignitaries pop in from time to time, representatives from various organizations or other local businesses who would enter his office, endure his bullshit and bravado, and fire back with their own inflated egoisms.  Joey entered the building with another man in tow, similar in age and stature, who gave us all a courteous smile before being ushered through to his office.  He didn’t introduce us, which I wasn’t disappointed with.  But I found it odd. He normally liked to flaunt his foreign dignitaries.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” said Pat.

“He kept it quiet,” I said.  “Maybe he’s an inspector.  Or one of the Masons.  He’s really been proud of his association with them since he’s joined.”

“Nah, I met them.  He had me go with him to one of the lodge meetings.”

“Seriously?  When?”

“A few weeks ago.  I didn’t tell you ‘cause I thought you might be jealous.”

“Seriously?” I asked flatly.

“Well, I know better now,” he admitted.

“How’d it go?”

“As well as could be expected.  There were only about four people there.  Ourselves included.  And one of them was only there to fix the table.  It was…enlightening.”

“The many mysteries of the secret society.”

“Oh, that reminds me. Jack called for you while you were on the phone just now.”

I tried to suppress my physical reaction to his statement.  “What?”

“Well, I think it was him.  I’ve only spoken to him a few times.  Is this one of his numbers?”

Pat handed me a small piece of paper with a number scrawled on it.

I shook my head.  “No, but I’ll try it.  Thanks.”

I went back into the private office and called the number.  It rang about twenty times, but I refused to give up.  Someone eventually picked up, and informed me it was a public payphone.  When I returned to my desk, I saw Joey walking his visitor out of the office.  They seemed cordial, regardless of what they were talking about.  The older man, possibly in his late sixties, offered me another warm smile and said “pleasure to see you again,” as though we had met before.  Who knows? It’s hard to remember the faces of all Joey’s visitors.  I simply smiled back.

***

By the end of the day, the drivers started coming back with empty trucks and full invoices, dropping off cash or cheques or purchase order numbers.  I got on well with some of them, whereas the others did not seem to appreciate my presence in the office.  I guess there was a certain normalcy in an industrial office that my presence did not conform to.

“Is this enough?” one driver asked suggestively.

He dropped the invoices and cash on my desk.  He was a grossly overweight and under-showered middle-aged man, perfectly suited for a life of pumping other people’s shit.

“Not for you it isn’t,” I muttered.  I hated touching the money when they dropped it off.

“Maybe next time I’ll make more,” he said with a snorting laugh as he glanced at one of the other drivers.

His name was Todd.  He was always one of the worst.  At least he was gone.  The others were more tolerable by comparison.  You’d think after five years, they’d be more accepting of me.  I guess I’m the fool for expecting that.

The only up-side was today was a nice distraction from everything surrounding Jack’s abduction.  It was