The Officemate

Sargis Petrosyan had worked at CyTek Systems for nearly a decade. A loyal, hardworking employee, he was to receive a ten-year anniversary citation and gift in the coming days. Sargis was a financial analyst, and a darn good one too. The company was in the competitive position it was today because of policies he helped author and implement. His knowledge of the inner-workings of the company was vast. So much so that an increasing number of the executives quietly pondered if he was susceptible to exploitation. In three days’ time, they’d get their answer.

Arevig Petrosyan, Sargis’ wife of fifteen years, was a dedicated wife and mother. She loved Sargis with all her heart and stood behind him and the long hours he put in at CyTek Systems. She knew his work contributed to a lot of the company’s success and often wondered why the execs had not elevated him to a management position. Though she would never broach the subject with Sargis, she wondered just the same. It didn’t seem fair that he put in so much time and produced programs and procedures that enabled the company to go public, yet had received none of the praise the executives had. They were taking advantage of her husband and she did not like it.

After dinner one evening, Sargis sat alone in the living room. He seemed distant, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Arevig had seen him like that before, usually before a major company announcement for which Sargis would get zero credit. She could tell it ate at him, but, as always, she said nothing. She lie awake that night thinking about Sargis and how he must feel knowing the executives at CyTek were taking full credit for his work and yet he got nothing in return. The unfairness of it all was eating away at her and she wondered why Sargis didn’t speak up.

So did his friend, Ron Deerfield. Ron was like family. He and Sargis met about a year before starting together at CyTek. While Ron never achieved the same status as Sargis at work, he gave one hundred percent support to his friend. Like Arevig, he also wondered why Sargis allowed the execs to take advantage of him. He was more vocal about it than was Arevig and she secretly admired him for it, as she silently hoped he’d one day get through to Sargis.

In the office, Ron and Sargis sat across from each other in separate cubicles. It worked out great because they could bounce ideas off each other without having to leave the area. It also gave Ron a chance to kind of, sort of, listen in on calls between Sargis and the execs. Sometimes, it appeared Sargis was one of them, minus, of course, the private office. Ron could tell that Sargis was giving away every detail of every piece of research he and Ron had worked on. They fed off Sargis like vultures, and he had finally had enough.

That Weekend, Sargis fired up his old faithful Weber grill and invited Ron and his family over for burgers and dogs. The kids could frolic around in the backyard while the wives did whatever it was they did on those occasions. Ron was eager to get some private time with Sargis to get some things off his chest. He suspected security was watching them at work and had an uneasy feeling that one or both of them were about to be let go. It seemed the execs had milked Sargis for all he was worth and it was time to make adjustments. Unfortunately, though Ron didn’t get the accolades that Sargis did, they knew he was an integral part of Sargis’ success, which meant when Sargis left, Ron would become a victim of collateral damage. His attempt at explaining that to Sargis fell on deaf ears.

On Monday morning, Sargis received a phone call. The woman on the other end of the line had a sultry, raspy, sexy voice and Sargis gave her his undivided attention. All the nasty thoughts that permeated his brain went south as she issued a series of instructions.

“Sargis, I’m afraid this will not be a comfortable conversation. Your lovely wife, Arevig, is in imminent danger. I have her tied up in an abandoned warehouse with two guys that are experts in making women regret they’d ever been born. I need for you to listen to me and do exactly as I say. Please acknowledge you understand.”

Sargis tried to cut in.

“Please don’t do that again, Sargis. Acknowledge you understand what I’ve said, or I’ll have my guys do something horrible to Arevig. She will not enjoy it.”

“I understand,” Sargis replied, as fear took over.

“Good,” the woman said.

“Look in your center desk drawer. You’ll find a loaded 9mm handgun. The safety is off. I need you to take that gun and shoot your friend, Ron Deerfield, in the head. I need for you to verify for me he is dead. Please do that now, Sargis. I’ll wait.”

“Lady, I don’t know who you are and there is no way I’m doing what you ask,” Sargis responded.

There was a moment of silence. Followed by…

“Please! No! What are you doing? OH MY GOD, NO, PLEASE,” followed by screams from Arevig.

Sargis turned away from Ron’s cube and broke down crying.

“Do I have your attention now, Sargis?”

“My guys can make Arevig’s life absolutely miserable for hours upon hours. Now do as I’ve instructed you. I’m waiting.”

Sargis looked inside his desk drawer to find a gun, just as the caller had said. He reached for it. He held it in his hands as he began crying harder. Ron heard him and looked over to see what was going on. Sargis had already raised the gun and pointed it right at Ron’s head. He was shaking violently as he cried aloud, catching the attention of others in the office. Before Ron could react, Sargis pulled the trigger and Ron slumped in his chair, dead.

“There! It’s done. Now I want to speak to my wife,” Sargis balled.

“Your wife will be safe. Take the gun and leave now. Do not talk to anyone. Do not go home. Go to the Cornerstone Coffee House on the corner of Stanislaus and Fulton, order something and take a seat. I will contact you when you get there with further instructions.”

“Wait,” Sargis interrupted. “I want to speak to my wife.”

The phone went dead. The sound of the gunshot sent terror throughout the office, as people mostly ran for cover or the exits. Some, of course, stayed to see what happened and ran towards Ron’s cube to get a better look. Sargis fought his way through the gathered crowd and ran out of the building. The sight of Ron Deerfield slumped at his desk with blood oozing out of his head, horrified onlookers. The distant sound of sirens blared in the background.

⁂

Two Days Earlier

The fog that morning was the worst he’d seen in a while. Driving was near impossible. Visibility was practically zero. He knew he couldn’t outrun them, so he’d try to outsmart them instead. Close to the mini-storage where he rented a locker, he ditched his car on a street over from the location and took off on foot. His plan was to hide inside his locker until the fog cleared or he was sure he’d lost them.

As he approached his locker, he looked around to ensure no one had followed him. Satisfied he was alone, he approached his locker and unlocked the door when he felt a blow to the back of his head. Everything suddenly went black as he fell to the ground, unconscious.

When he came to, his worst fears took over, and he panicked. He was in a room he was most familiar with, strapped to a chair he was equally familiar with. Typically, at that point, the guy who sat calmly on a couch across the room would stand in front of him, slipping on leather gloves. That he was not doing so sent shivers through Ron Deerfield’s body. Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and a female walked in and slowly made her way in front of where Ron was sitting. The man on the couch brought over a chair and positioned it in front of Ron. She sat in it and looked intensely into Rons’ eye’s.

Her name was Lyssa Rowe, and she was hands down the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in person. Unfortunately, she wasn’t there to be his eye candy. She had a calm demeanor, an air of sophistication, and a mean streak he had yet to see. She began speaking. Her angelic voice gave him goosebumps. But things quickly turned dark. Turned out she was no angel.

She motioned for the couch guy to come over. He complied and handed her a small leather case. She instructed him to secure Ron’s right hand to the arm of the chair. Fear caused him to sweat. With his hand immobile, she looked directly into his eyes as she gently stroked his fingers. It was as if she was searching for the one she liked the most. Her stare, though sexually intoxicating, was void of any such notion. It was, however, a projection of her intent to inflict pain.

She unzipped and opened the case the couch guy gave to her, and Ron looked on in horror at what he saw. Inside the case was an assortment of decorative super thin stick pins. Ron panicked and tried feverishly to free his hand. He’d seen plenty of war movies about Vietnam and knew what her intentions were. He freaked out as she removed one of her little pins, freaked out as she positioned it just under the fingernail of his ring finger. And he really freaked out as she looked him in the eyes and smiled as she pushed the pin into his finger.

The pain was like nothing he’d ever experienced, and it only got worse as she continued to push the pin in deeper. His eyes welled with tears in response to the intense pain. He begged her, pleaded with her to stop as he looked on in absolute horror that she was still smiling. She stopped and sat back in her chair, leaving the pin in place. She motioned for the couch guy to come and release Ron’s other hand.

“That, Mr. Deerfield, was an attention getter. I want there to be no misunderstanding about my seriousness. You have something my employer wants. I know it is in the inside pocket of your jacket. I want you to retrieve it and hand it to me.”

Ron complied and tearfully begged her to let him go.

“Thank you, Mr. Deerfield. Unfortunately, when I pull my pin out, it won’t feel much better than it did when I put it in.”

And without hesitation, she grabbed the pin and slowly pulled it out, wiped it clean, and put it back into its position in the leather case. She then slid her chair back and stood to leave. As she reached the door, she turned back towards Ron.

“In a way, you’re lucky, Mr. Deerfield. Most people go through life not knowing when they’ll die. You will die two days from now at this exact time. I suggest you get your affairs in order.”

The couch guy untied him and met her at the door. They both walked out, leaving the door open.

⁂

Sargis was waiting at the coffee shop when he noticed a car pull up. A woman exited from the back and assisted Arevig out. Sargis looked at his wife and ran towards her. He held her as she began crying uncontrollably, shaking in his arms. He looked towards the woman.

“Thank you. Are we even now?” he asked.

“Yes, Sargis. You’ve fulfilled your obligation.”

She handed him an envelope.

“I think you’ll find the contents interesting,” she said. “It seems you have friends you may not have known about.”

She then got back into the car, and he never saw her again.

Sargis waited all day for the police to arrive and haul him away for killing Ron, but no one ever came. That evening at home, he expected that surely they’d come there for him. But no one ever came. After Arevig had gone to bed, he sat in his study with only his desk light on. He opened the envelope the lady had given him and began combing over the documents.

It read like something out of a spy novel. Ron Deerfield was not who he said he was. He worked for an underground organization that wanted the info Sargis had been working on for CyTek. He befriended Sargis in order to steal what he could. The lady, Lyssa Rowe, worked for another agency that suspected Ron was using the information for something nefarious and had been monitoring his activities.

The company Ron worked for sold the data he stole to Russian operatives, who used the data to enhance a weapons project. Sargis, of course, had no idea someone could use his data for such things. On the day he killed Ron, the urgency was a top priority, as Ron was ready to do a final data dump for his organization and flee the country that morning. That information was critical and would have introduced broad consequences for US interests. The organization that Lyssa worked for had ties to people who could offer Sargis qualified immunity for his role in stopping Ron.

Lyssa was under tremendous pressure and authorized to use any means necessary to stop Ron, thus the kidnapping of Sargis’ wife, Arevig. In reality, she was never in danger, but Lyssa had to make Sargis believe she’d do whatever she had to in order to force his compliance. Of course, she could have just hired a hitman to take out Ron, but most of those guys were sloppy and she always spent more time cleaning up their messes than she wanted to. She had a reputation for thinking outside the box and the success of the deal with Sargis elevated her to legendary status. Everyone won. Lyssa’s agency rewarded Sargis handsomely for his service, and he and Arevig lived the rest of their lives enjoying wealth and happiness.

K.R. Eaton - The Officemate

Short Stories by K.R Eaton