When First We Practice to...Blackmail

In the morning, there was no sign of my rock when I awoke at 7:00 a.m. I suddenly remembered he was flying out this morning for a five day visit to the buying company's head office. I searched for a note, or any other sign I could use, to compensate for the fact he'd just left town for the first time ever without giving me a passionate kiss and telling me he loved me. Nothing. I rang his cell and had barely the time to apologise for growling at him last night, before I heard the final boarding call over the airport announcing system in the background. So began a lonely, frustrating week.

On arriving at work, Michael tried to talk to me in the coffee room but I managed to escape. At exactly 10:00 a.m. the receptionist delivered the now familiar envelope. Inside was a typewritten page. 'Drop the $20k in a brown paper bag in the bin closest to the statue in Pheasant Park at 11AM. Get in your car, drive around the park twice then look in the bin again. Remember, no police and no tricks.' This time it was signed, 'The Vice.' They obviously had a sense of humour. The Vice referred to was clearly the one they had my balls in. Figuratively speaking, of course.

With no other available options, I made my excuses and took off for the park. Just before I dropped the cash in the designated bin, I asked myself a question I hadn't thought of until then. Was my marriage worth $20k? Yes, it was. It was worth every penny of my secret bank account. In my mind, I knew it would come to that. Last night I'd even checked its balance. $52, 324, plus the cash I was holding. Dropping the bag in the bin without a moment's hesitation, I made my way back to the car, surreptitiously scanning all the faces I could see. There were no familiar ones. Just a bedraggled bum lying on one of the benches and a young couple kissing one another. Getting back in my car, I drove the demanded two blocks. For some of the drive I could see that end of the park, but for about a minute, up the other end, I lost sight of it due to a low wall along that side. After my prescribed two circumnavigations, I pulled in again and walked to the bin. My bag was gone. An envelope was in its place. I checked the contents and was pleasantly surprised to see what looked like one of my original photographs in it. On the back was typed, '10AM next Monday, same amount. Will let you know where.'

I stormed back to the office, made my excuses for why I couldn't train my replacement, sat in my office and stewed. The money meant nothing to me. It was a mere drop in the ocean compared to what was coming. I just found the whole concept of being blackmailed, with no control over my life, offensive. How could I regain some control? Without knowing who it was, I was stuffed. Or who THEY were. It wasn't lost on me the first note had referred to 'They', and the second in the singular.

An idea struck me. The receptionist had instructions to log who and when everyone entered and exited the office. The records of that morning would narrow the list of suspects, possibly down to one. Excitedly, I rushed to reception. On examining the log, I saw only visitors were listed. On questioning the new girl, she apologised for her misinterpretation of the instruction. After chewing her out angrily, I made sure she knew to log absolutely everyone. I stormed back to my office, attracting glances from absolutely everyone. I noticed Michael look up, but immediately look away. Apart from the one time when this all started, he hadn't nagged me to talk to him. I thought it highly unfair I was the only one suffering.

The next weeks were purgatory. At work, I continued busily, handing over to my successor. That left only non-office hours to worry and plot. Some nights, I was so distracted I would come out of a reverie to find myself alone on the couch. When I criticised Dave the next day for not telling me he was going to bed, he told me he had. I was forced to tell him the reason I was so distracted was my concerns over how life would be after retirement. I knew that must have been unconvincing, after my previous excitement, but it was the best my distracted mind could do. I knew it was destructive behaviour, but I just couldn't stop it. I was relieved when Dave announced another trip away.

With no other option in sight, I returned to the bank Friday for another $20k which sat in the spare wheel well of my car all weekend, like a glowing beacon of my affront at being made so helpless. Dave returned Friday and I was still distracted. I'd done the maths. Five photos disappear from my desk drawer. One is returned free. The next two cost me $40k. That left two, but only enough money in the bank for one. There'd been $32,324 in my account Friday after the latest withdrawal. I knew I could cover the eight-grand shortfall from the housekeeping account, but with a reasonable chance of uncomfortable questions from my husband. Besides, that just felt wrong. Some of that was Dave's money and that was tantamount to stealing. It took me until Sunday afternoon to decide what to do. First thing Monday morning I wrote a note to go with the cash this week. "Have only $32,324 in my personal account left. If I try to get money from joint accounts, husband will probably find out anyway. My offer; $32,324 for the last two." If they went for this, it had the advantage of bringing this torture to an end a week earlier than they planned.

I was quite surprised when the blackmailer told me the next drop off point. The same bin, in the same park. I left after making sure the receptionist was logging everyone in and out.

I dropped the envelope in the bin and sped around the block as quickly as possible. On return, my bag had gone and there was the familiar envelope in its place. Like last time, I scanned the park to see who was there. Being a nicer day, there was two couples and one lady playing with her children, on various benches. I went to a vacant bench and sat down. When I lifted the envelope to open it, I noticed writing on the back in a very messy hand. "Your problem. Next week, one photo, $20,000." I sat in a daze as I contemplated the implications of this. Could I steal from Dave to cover my treachery? I was fairly sure I couldn't. Should I confess to Dave now? The odds of him forgiving me if I confessed were surely better than if I called the blackmailer's bluff and they called it right back. I was indecisive but that was okay. I had two more weeks to decide and two unknown factors to consider. The first was the blackmailer must have written the note after less than a minute's thought. They may change their mind after they'd digested my plea and offer. Time would tell on that one. The second was I had two weeks of reception logs to help me, this week and next week. Surely, someone of my intelligence could find the culprit with that information. I looked at the envelope again. The writing was so bad it could only have been done by a child or someone using their off hand. One thing was for sure; when I did identify them, vengeance would be swift.

Slightly more relaxed, I returned to the office. I immediately grabbed the visitor's log. Besides six visitors, five employees had left the office that morning. Three salesmen, Michael bloody Beaumont, and an unfamiliar name. The salesmen were all still out, the other two were back already.

"Who is Matt Smith?"

"He's the computer guy."

Shit. Still two serious suspects. Before entering the main office, I hatched a plan. I prided myself in my ability to read people. The next time I saw Michael, I would glare at him accusingly. That wouldn't break my blackmailer's terms, but just may give me my answer. I anticipated which return expressions would mean what and strode in. I paused in front of Michael's desk and gave it to him. Pure anger. He looked up a little confused, then gave me an angry look right back. That one I hadn't anticipated. I kept going to my office to process it all. Unless Michael was a lot smarter than I gave him credit for, it wasn't him. That left the computer guy. I'd run into him several times since that horrible night and he'd just smirked every time.

That week was almost a repeat of the previous one. Me distracted. Dave either away or exhausted. I did pass the computer guy a couple of times but his smirk was entirely consistent with our shared secret. Friday's trip to the bank was routine by now and I worried through the weekend at what the delivery Monday morning would say. The only thing out of the ordinary was when I sounded my boss out on the possibility of retracting my resignation. I pride myself on covering all bases, remember. If worst came to the worst, and Dave was told, or I confessed and he didn't forgive me as I'm fairly sure he would, I'd need a job. The boss said I couldn't keep my current job, as I expected. It would be grossly unfair on the guy already told it was his. We discussed lower vacancies, but my pride wouldn't allow that. The deal we decided was I would finish up as planned and if a suitable vacancy became available in the future, I was free to apply for it.

Again, I used Sunday to plan. Dave was away for three days, so I typed a letter to my extortionists, at home. Rather embarrassingly, I realised I didn't even know where Dave was. He'd told me but I was so distracted I hadn't listened well enough. Last week, I'd timed how long it took from losing sight of the bin end of the park until I could next see it. My plan was to write a letter that took at least that long to read. The gist of the letter was that I was calling their bluff. After today, I had $12,324 to pay for the last photograph. I was unwilling to steal from my husband to make up the shortfall. If this wasn't acceptable, then I would confess to my husband and rob them of their hold over me anyway. It wasn't negotiable. I hunted out Dave's binoculars. I would pull over as soon as I could, after turning the corner at the top of the park and race to a vantage point and zoom in on the bin. This all assumed the rendezvous point remained the same. If not, then my only source remained the reception log. I practiced reading the letter and timing it. Then I put it in the bag with the cash and wrote, 'Important note inside', on the outside.

My relief was great when the delivery Monday morning stated the same drop point. The reception log showed Michael was already gone when I left. I dropped the bag in the bin and looked around. Two couples, an old guy who was entirely unfamiliar and a bum sitting at a bench. Walking to my car, with a nonchalance I didn't feel, I jumped in. Craning my head to keep an eye on the bin for as long as I could, I drove up the block. My luck was in for a change. Just as I turned the corner, a car pulled out of a parking space. Parking very badly, I sprinted to the wall with the binoculars. I didn't have perfect vision through the trees but could see the bin. One of the couples was walking away hand in hand. Two patrolling policemen were moving the bum along. I stayed there for five minutes and no one approached the bin. I returned to my car and completed the circuit.

I was very surprised to see my bag gone, replaced, as usual, by the exchange envelope. For the first time I saw the flaw in my plan. There was a thick hedge thirty metres from the bin. Someone hiding in it would need only half a minute to make the exchange and disappear again. Frantically, I searched the hedge but there was no one there now. Once again, I sat at the bench and opened the envelope. There was no writing on the outside this time but there was a typed letter along with the second last photo. The contents of the letter stunned and confused me.

"We are so glad that you have decided not to steal from your husband. He's a nice guy and doesn't deserve that on top of your other crimes. As you've been so co-operative we have reduced your final payment from $20,000 down to $18,453. This offer is not negotiable. Failure to bring that amount to this place at 4PM this Thursday will result in not only your husband being told of your sordid affair but your employer as well."

I sat there, stunned. Whoever was doing this to me was a very skilled manipulator. They'd predicted not only that I would call their bluff, but that I'd respond by saying I was going to confess to Dave. It was almost as if they knew the risk I would take with Dave and cover my bases by trying to retain my employer. Them telling my company would leave my reputation in tatters and me unemployed. If I wasn't feeling so helpless and frustrated, I would have admired their skill. The amount of their final demand struck even my overheated mind as odd. They knew it left me about $6,000 short. Why concede $1,547? There had to be some significance, but I couldn't see it. It was almost as if they knew exactly what was in my letter, but that was impossible. I'd typed it at home, in my empty house, yesterday, then emailed it to my company email last night for printing today. Who could possibly have intercepted an email to a password protected computer? A chill ran down my spine. A network bloody super-user, that's who.

I stormed back to work and went to the basement hideout of my nemesis. He wasn't there. His supervisor said he'd taken the whole week off. I went to HR and got his address and contact details. With no answer on his phone, I left again and drove to his address. There was no answer to my banging on his cheap apartment door except his neighbour coming out and saying that Matthew had taken off for the week. Talk about bloody frustrating.

Knowing I was useless for the rest of the day, I rang work and told them I wouldn't be back in. I went home and sat. I knew I had three days to make the right decision. As an insurance industry executive, the decision should have been simple. Weigh the cold hard facts and risks, then see what answer spat out. I didn't need a pen and paper to see the obvious outcome of that. Topping up my bank account with a mere $6,000 from a joint account would prevent both my problems. It would mean my marriage was secure and my career would end honourably. I even toyed with the idea of replacing the money from my final pay. The annual leave alone would cover it. Could I hurt an innocent man by defying this logic?

The trouble was, I wasn't only a business executive. I was a wife as well. A wife who'd done something dishonourable and wrong. Abused my position in the company and the trust of my husband. Sure, I could fix two huge problems by doing a third wrong, stealing from the very man who I'd betrayed. Morality fought with practicality. It was the loneliest decision I'd ever made, and in the end, possibly the most selfish. I realised I could never live with the secret I now held and the one I proposed. I stayed at the kitchen table when Dave came in after his trip.

"David, we need to talk."

I told him everything. Starting with my feeling of getting old and Michael's seduction. Our affair and the subsequent blackmail. My guilt and self-loathing. Every sordid detail. Even the sickening blowjob performed on the IT guy. I never once met Dave's eyes. I knew he would be in pain and the sight of that would stop me finishing what I had to say. When I got to the last meeting with Michael in the motel near work, and the reasons for it, I did lose it. I buried my head in my arms, on the table, and lost it completely. What I wouldn't have given to feel Dave's arms around me right then. I composed myself to finish the last piece of my confession, so that I could seek his permission for the extra money to salvage my professional reputation. I finally raised my head. He was gone. So was his car. His cell phone was on the charger where he'd put it on entry.

In my planning, I'd known he'd walk away, he never made hasty decisions. I'd steeled myself for some shouting and definitely some uncomfortable questions. I wasn't in the least bit prepared for what I got. Nothing. Did that mean he was too overwhelmed to speak or that he didn't care? I didn't have enough data to decide.

After I'd got myself under control, I rang friends and Dave's office number. I didn't come straight out and ask if he was there, but it was obvious he wasn't. I didn't ring the kids and confess. I decided to wait to see what, if anything, Dave wanted to tell them. I couldn't see why Dave would want to involve them, but with some of my destiny no longer in my control, that wouldn't be my decision. After the phone calls, I just sat and waited. For the first time I anticipated what Dave would ask, starting at why and going all the way to how. Let's just say, self-loathing played a big part in my evening.

I awoke on the couch with the dawn. In an act of pure optimism, I checked the bedroom. No luck there. I wasn't really expecting him to have thought that quickly, in fact, I was relieved. A knee jerk decision wouldn't be good. I debated staying home, but all the distractions in the last few weeks meant I still had a crap load of information to pass to my successor before I left on Friday. I must have checked my phone at least fifty times that day, without the result I wanted. I rang Dave's work but was told settlement on the business had occurred the day before and Dave wasn't expected back. That hurt. Dave must have come home with the terrific news last night and I'd kicked him in the teeth. Heaven to hell in fifteen minutes flat. With no other options, I sent an email to his personal address, in case he was monitoring that. Knowing exactly what he was feeling, I worded a gentle apology and invitation to lambast me whenever he was ready.

I was a little surprised when he wasn't there when I arrived home Tuesday night, but not yet alarmed. Wednesday was a repeat of Tuesday. I did consider talking to Michael, but still not knowing for sure who the extortionist was, didn't want to risk them telling the company. I rang Dave's friends again with no luck, so I started ringing the kids. I figured I'd be able to tell from their demeanours if Dave had been in contact with them. None of them answered their cells. Doing the rounds of their landlines only netted me being answered by Paul's wife. She seemed friendly, but said she was late for something and had to go.

After another worried and fretful night, I awoke Thursday morning with the knowledge I still had a problem. If Dave hadn't reappeared by 4:00 p.m., I still didn't have his blessing to use money from our joint accounts to top up my shortfall and guarantee my professional reputation. There was more at stake than my memory, I realised. If Dave never came back, I'd need to be on good terms with my soon to be ex-employer and their promise of re-employing me, to guarantee a comfortable standard of living. If my reputation was trashed, that was out. I sent another email to Dave's address, laying out what I wanted and begging him to give me his blessing before the afternoon.

I watched the screen all day but at two-thirty, there was still no reply. I left for the bank. Three-fifteen saw me in the bushes near the drop off bin. I carried two envelopes. The first had the last of the cash from my personal account, the second, had an extra $6,129 in it from a joint account. My plan was to surprise them in the bushes, if that's where they hid. I'd written a note on the first envelope, begging them to accept the smaller amount as payment for the last photo, but offering to return with the rest if that was unacceptable. If they went for the deal, then I would return the extra to the joint account.

Feeling like a bit of a fool, I waited in the bushes, looking out at the scenes of ordinary life in the park. At three-fifty, a shambling bum wandered into the area and sat with a young couple on a bench. They lasted about fifteen seconds before deciding the neighbourhood was no longer desirable. Five minutes later, a vaguely familiar lady walked to and sat at the bench closest to the drop point. I wondered where I'd seen her before; I'm good with faces.