The Secret

a short story
“Allison?”
“Yes, Catherine?”
“I have something I want to tell you, but...you have to promise to never tell anyone.”
“I promise.”
“Do you swear on your life?”
“I swear on my life.”

1/

The striking Thursday morning of August was a bright and sunny one. The inhabitants of
Manhattan were alive with jubilance and peace, giving constant life to the city that never
sleeps. Across town on the upper east side, a young woman stepped out of her loft
apartment and locked the door behind her - her espresso coloured hair shining in the 9am
sun - and pocketed her keys. The stunning femme summoned a taxi and slung her tote bag
made of recyclable material over her shoulder and slid into the rather clean, bright yellow
vehicle. “West 83rd, please.”

A moment after the taxi’s departure, the woman’s mobile phone started to play a familiar
tune. She gazed down to the device in her hand and smiled when she realised who was
calling. Taking the phone to her ear, she greeted her caller with a warm hello. “Allison, good
morning. How are you?” The woman happened to avert her eyes upward and noticed the
driver occasionally glance at her through the rear-view mirror. She continued her
conversation, now annoyed. “You don’t say? Well, I always knew he was a savage but
really. What did your mother say? Good Lord, I do not believe it. Well I’ll be damned.” She
glanced upward again and caught him watching. “Allison, hold on for a moment, please.”
The brunette reached into her wallet, pulled out a couple of bills, and waved them at the
driver. “Stop here please, this will be good enough.” She dropped the money over the seat
and quickly vacated the vehicle.

“I’m terribly sorry, Allison, these goddamn taxi drivers just don’t know how to mind their
own business,” the woman complained as she made her way to her destination on foot.
“Yes, indeed. Oh of course, and I expected no less from her, of all people.” Suddenly, she
heard a faint beeping and looked at her phone. “One moment, Allison, I’m receiving another
call.” She pressed the appropriate button and answered. “Catherine Brown speaking. Yes,
the article will be in her inbox by noon tomorrow. Thank you.” Catherine switched back to
Allison’s call and continued their conversation. “Apologies, the office can’t seem to leave me
at peace, even on my days off. Yes, that will be splendid. Speak to you later. Ciao.”

Catherine turned the corner and stopped at the intersection, joining the group of people
patiently waiting until they were given the green signal to cross the street. All patient, that
is, except for one somewhat agitated man who couldn’t seem to wait, and almost got
himself run down by a taxi. He spat several words of a decidedly vulgar nature to the driver,
and, shortly after, received a similar favour. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

A moment later, she arrived at her destination: a café just a stone’s throw away from
Central Park. She removed a tissue from her tote bag and pulled on the gold plated vertical
handle, opening the door, the tissue acting as a barrier between Catherine’s hand at the
ungodly number of germs possibly lurking on the door handle. Spotting a table toward the
back in the corner with a nice view, she disposed of the tissue and claimed the seat as her
own. No sooner did she do so, a waiter made his way over and offered a warm smile. “Good
morning, miss. May I get you anything?” he asked. Catherine glanced upward and couldn’t
help but smile, a reaction to the waiter’s sheer beauty. His blue-grey eyes sparkled in the
light of the café, courtesy of the eco-friendly light bulbs, which complimented his flawless
complexion of smooth, tanned skin. He had a hardly noticeable five ‘o clock shadow, which
made him look a hair over twenty three years old – without it, Catherine was sure he’d look
nineteen. Her eyes moved south, noticing his slim-fitting black shirt as per uniform
complimented his physique well.

Clearing her throat, she answered, “I’ll have a decaf mocha espresso, no froth please, and a
caramel biscotti if you have any.” She ended her order with a smile.

He returned her friendly gesture. “Coming right up.”

Catherine observed her surroundings briefly. The café wasn’t as busy as it ordinarily was –
there were a healthy number of patrons, but it wasn’t overcrowded as it is at lunchtime.
She found coming at this hour most enjoyable because the overall volume is desirable and
the coffee is usually at its freshest. She removed her laptop from her tote bag and set it on
the clean table before her. As it turned on, the screen came to life and showed the familiar
logo of the company that also makes music devices and mobile phones.

She easily located the café’s Wi-Fi network and joined, soon getting spectacular internet
reception. The brown-haired woman opened up her email client and checked for new
messages on today’s events. Her work as a journalist had more demands and requirements
than she had bargained for, but being ambitious and a minor workaholic, she gets the job
done with mild complaints...on her part anyway – neither her co-workers nor her boss have
ever had spoken a negative word against her work ethic.

As her espresso arrived, she thanked the waiter and pretended not to notice him smile,
revealing his glistening white teeth and occasionally glance over his shoulder as he made his
way back to the counter. Catherine continued reading through her new messages as she
sipped her morning brew. She stumbled upon an email that according to her client was sent
to her at around 1:34am that morning. She knew that the client followed its own time zone,
so translated to hers, that would be 6:34am. The brunette opened the message and
carefully read the contents. It was organised as a ransom note, to which Catherine found
quite peculiar. Was this a hoax? She pondered the note as she continued to sip her
espresso. She strummed her fingers along the table, trying not to look disturbed to any on-
lookers in the café, especially that strapping young waiter that occasionally glanced in her
direction.

‘How far are you willing to go to uncover the story of the year?

Keep this email address for your records. You will be contacted again soon.

-S’

Catherine continued to reread the email. With a swift click, she saved the email to the
proper custom folder she had created and clicked on the appropriate button to compose a
new message. She addressed the email to one of her closest friends who worked at the
journalism office that she did. She tried her hardest not to let her intrigue mixed with minor
fear show on her face or bodily movements. Catherine sipped her coffee yet again and
casually glanced around before composing the email.

‘Jack,

I need your help. Run a search with that contact of yours and find the owner of the
following email address and any additional information: s@eyefinder.info – I would
appreciate it.

-Catherine’

The young woman sipped the last of her espresso and gawked at the cup, disappointed.
Taking this as his cue, the young waiter raised a grin upon his face. Swooping in like a
large, predatory bird, he snagged her cup and refilled it before Catherine even knew what
happened. “Thanks,” she smiled, seeming rather confused.

As she enjoyed her second cup, her mobile phone beeped. Searching through the seemingly
endless contents of her tote bag, she found it and read the screen. She had received a text
message from a number she did not recognise. ‘Look to your left.’ Catherine did so and
noticed a man walking past the café, casually glancing at her. Her phone beeped again. ‘Do
not get into a vehicle with him.’

Before Catherine could react accordingly, the man was already inside, taking casual yet
cautious steps toward her. The brunette found herself immersed in an overwhelming sense
of fear and alert as she stared blankly into the cold, grey eyes of the man who stood before
her, a gun holstered inside the front of his belt – she noticed when he moved his jacket to
the side, a warning not to try anything heroic.

The man ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair before removing the gun from its original
place and grabbing Catherine by the arm, the other patrons of the café yelping and crying
out in fright. She grabbed her mobile phone, pocketed it without the man noticing, and tried
to fight against his grip, but it was of no use. As they neared the door, the young waiter
who seemed rather fond of Catherine attempted to disarm her assailant, but he earned
himself a bullet to the chest, the sound of thunder flooding the café and causing everyone
inside and out to run and scream in panic. “No!” she cried, tears beginning to form as she
saw his body hit the floor. The man grabbed her by the neck and pushed her out the door.

Catherine followed her kidnapper outside and was ushered to get into the nearby Chrysler
300. She pulled away and tried to run, but the man was too strong for her to take on – he
grabbed her by the hair and forced her into the vehicle. Not a moment later, the American
vehicle burned rubber and vacated the premises as police sirens were heard in the
background.

The car ride was a most unenjoyable one, considering that Catherine had a silver Sig-Sauer
P232 trained on her for a majority of it. She inconspicuously removed her mobile phone
from her jacket pocket and sent an SOS text message to Jack. ‘Kidnapped. Chrysler 300.
K12 EKG. Do not reply. Need help.’ She prayed he would not reply to her message,
considering that her assailant and his colleagues would most definitely hear the beep.

The automobile finally came to a halt at a red light. Catherine’s eyes stared straight ahead,
as she observed the police car to the right of her through her peripheral vision. She was
confident that they could not see inside, for if memory served her, the vehicle she was in
had tinted windows. Catherine felt a rush of adrenaline coarse through her veins, her heart
rate rising as she tried to talk herself into doing what her mind told her to do.

In one swift motion, Catherine knocked the German handgun from her attacker’s hand and
used her elbow to smash the glass of the backseat passenger window. The two police
officers darted their attention to her and noticed she was in trouble. Catherine quickly
unlocked her door and launched herself out of the vehicle as the two police officers exited
theirs, their standard issue handguns trained on the three men inside of the Chrysler.

The assistance of the law enforcement officers was futile, however, because not a moment
after Catherine fled from the vehicle, both men were shot dead with a bullet to head. The
vast number of passersby screamed in terror and fled the scene, some telephoning the local
police department to report the traumatising event. Catherine sprinted down the nearest
street and onto the next one, trying to lose her pursuers in an alleyway. She found herself
panting, soon to be out of breath, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to continue. The
brunette found herself at a small, chain-link fence. She climbed over it and fell, quickly
picking herself up and darting down the nearest street.

Catherine continued running and panicked when she heard the sound of screeching tires
behind her. The sound got closer as a car neared her and came to a stop. “Get in!”
Catherine turned and saw the young waiter from the café, to which she assumed had died.
Without hesitation, she launched herself over the hood of his navy blue Mazda and manned
the passenger seat, gunshots whizzing past them as her pursuers reached the street. A
moment later, the two had evaded the assailants and made it to safety.

The young man exhaled deeply as he turned the corner at a two-way intersection. He
glanced over in Catherine’s direction, taking notice of her panicked but relieved expression
as she dabbed her watering eyes lightly with a tissue. “Are you all right?” he asked. He
knew it was a stupid question – the woman was just kidnapped and chased through New
York by unknown attackers, of course she wasn’t all right. But he felt compelled to ask.

She inhaled deeply and cleared her throat. “I—“ her voice cracked making the both of them
laugh. She cleared her throat again. “Thank you,” she replied in a much clearer tone. “I
thought you had taken a bullet.”

“I did,” he commented. “Luckily for me, it hit the small notebook in my shirt pocket – a
couple of pages deeper and it would have went through me. It looks like we’re both in luck
today.” Catherine tried not to smile, for it was a most serious matter. “I’ve rescued your
laptop, by the way.” He pointed to the back seat of the coupe.

The woman smiled widely. “Thank you. Again. You saved my life. How can I ever repay
you?”

The man smiled. “I’m sure we’ll think of something. I never got your name, by the way.”

“My name’s Catherine. Catherine Brown.”

“Antonio Balestracci.”

“You’re Italian.” Catherine commented. She was rather fond of men from foreign countries.
She was always fascinated by cultures other than her own – she grew intrigued by other
customs and expectations of the inhabitants of the country.
“I was born and raised in Sicily during my childhood. I ended up here a few years ago.” He
didn’t seem happy admitting that.

Catherine felt obligated to enquire. “Why did you move to New York? It’s quite the
distance.”

“I met this girl. She came to Sicily to visit. We became good friends...and I fell in love with
her. I promised her I would move to her hometown so that we could spend more time
together.” Antonio sighed. “I turned eighteen and the first thing I did was buy a plane
ticket. Soon after, I had learnt that she had a boyfriend and was happily engaged in a
serious relationship with him.”

“I’m so sorry, Antonio.” She glanced out the window for a moment. “This must have been
hard for you.”

“I’ve spent the last five years here trying to find something to give my life meaning. I left
my friends and family for some girl I hardly knew. I can’t afford to go back to Italy. But I do
enjoy New York.”