Woman in Black

By Adam Grey

On this night, a three-quarters moon reflected half of the sunlight, while the remaining dimly lit part, or earthshine, reminded us that our futures, though uncertain, were always unfolding right before our eyes. Earthshine called on humanity to embrace the unknown, as that part of ourselves that hasnt been revealed by God and His universe, but which was always filled with great promise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514425503

Adam Grey

Adam Grey is a voracious reader and passionate writer. He subscribes to the notion that a good novel is dialogue-driven and that positive drama can reflect the best of mankind and be a motivating force behind the intentions of the artist and writer. His hobbies also include music, movies, sports, and poetry. He currently resides in New York with his wife and children, where he is at work on his next novel. Mr. Grey welcomes your feedback and hopes you enjoy reading about Kyle Tierney and the mysterious woman in black.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Adam Grey.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015918857

ISBN:   Hardcover              978-1-5144-2552-7

              Softcover               978-1-5144-2551-0

              eBook                    978-1-5144-2550-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 11/16/2015

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Earthshine

Noun: the glow caused by sunlight reflected off the earth, especially on the darker portion of a crescent moon.

Oxford University Press

Serendipity

Noun: the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

Oxford University Press

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

CHAPTER 1

I T’S BEEN FOUR months since I lost my job. I believe it was a planned maneuver by my former boss, Conrad Thornton. He deserved to be unemployed more than anyone else; instead, he managed to give himself a financial bonus, even after dismal fourth quarter earnings. Nevertheless, all of his superiors were ignorant to the facts and failed to see the forest for the trees. Amazing!

In December of this past year, my tenure as Finance Executive for StellarPro Services, a for-profit agency which helped Fortune 500 companies track their e-commerce orders internationally, came to an abrupt end after two very successful years. My contributions led to a 25% increase in customer satisfaction and basically gave our company the marketing exposure it needed to become a global force.

Still, in the end, I was left without a job, despite my hard work. In my mind I could hear Rod Stewart singing, Is that the thanks I get? while I suppressed anger and hostility towards the one person who deserved to be the victim of a flesh-eating disease.

I had to be positive and put the past behind me, although four months of trying and failing to procure an interview could invoke frustration and irritability in anyone. What I did learn, however, was that online job searches were completely useless and futile. In the end, if you didn’t know someone, if you didn’t have an inside contact of sorts, you didn’t stand a chance. This is how I felt now, despite landing this one interview today by sheer luck.

One interview in four months did not inspire a great deal of hope, but it was all that I had; it was my sad reality. And while it paled in comparison to my previous employment with StellarPro Services, it was a potential job.

This interview was for the position of Associate Director for Telecommunications Sales through ViaOptics International. The company worked closely with Corning in the development of fiber optics. Fiber optics were the wave of the future, literally. These glass fibers were the cutting edge of telecommunications. I did some advanced research prior to the interview by reading everything and anything on its website and any links associated with the company.

The process behind fiber optics was incredible. The website displayed pictures of glass being stretched so thin and then wound around enormous spools, similar to the way thread was wound around smaller spools for sewing purposes. These pliable fibers are then stretched for miles and are used to improve communications via phone lines, or bleeding-edge technology such as nano-technological implants, the kind that will eventually be infused with human skin. The wave of the future would employ waves that would travel at the speed of light.

I believed I could be at the forefront of this technology, if I could only ace this interview. I had to believe in myself and be confident. I had the experience and knowledge necessary to impress and hopefully land me the job I desperately needed.

Today was Friday. I couldn’t think of a better day to have a successful interview. If it went well, even if I left believing it went as best as it could have, I would have reason to enjoy my weekend. If it went south, however, the weekend would be ruined and seemingly last forever, until I could re-visit my futile attempts at landing another interview.

This was my one shot, and I had to make it count.

I received the call this past Monday, at 5:30 p.m. The name I was given was Mrs. Danielson. I quickly looked her up on the company’s website. There was no picture of Mrs. Danielson, but her name, title, and email address were available for contact. I took note of all three bits of information, especially if I were to follow-up with a post-interview Thank you letter. I kept staring at the site trying to determine if just the presence of her name and title might offer positive vibes from which I could bolster added confidence for the upcoming interview. Sometimes names or titles could provide you with a sense of comfort. Certain names conjured images of amiable people, while others filled you with a sense of dread or trepidation, perhaps because they were reminders of past experiences when situations and circumstances were unfavorable, disappointing, or even painful.

So I tried to get a sense of the name from the website: Mrs. Beatrice F. Danielson, Assistant Chief Executive Officer. The title appeared daunting, but the name left me perplexed. Beatrice was old-fashioned; perhaps she was one who was middle-aged or older than I. I am thirty-two, and I am guessing that Beatrice had not been a popular name amongst female babies for many a decade. I could be wrong, however.

Then I started to wonder whether or not I would be better off with a person closer to my age. After all, I did not consider myself homely by any definition. I am average, maybe even slightly above average, if I wanted to give myself some credit. I am 6' 2" tall, have blue eyes and an athletic build. I have heard others in the past refer to me as both handsome and cute, so I have to assume I am not a physical nightmare at which to stare.

Maybe I could impress someone my own age. Then again, I would probably end up sitting across from someone my mother’s age, who harbored nothing but disdain for today’s youth. She would probably believe we were simply lazy and selfish, clinging only to our latest tech devices, and communicating only by social media sites that hid and masked our true identities. I guess I wouldn’t blame her if she did; in fact, I would probably agree with her.

The interview was for 11:00 a.m. sharp. I arrived punctually at 10:45. The clerical staff, notably one named Mrs. Andrea Garrison, asked me to have a seat in the nearby lounge. A stretch of brown upholstered armchairs lined the walls of the lounge, and a thirty-two inch television hung on the walls for anyone interested, or disinterested, as the case may be. A news program was currently playing to no one in particular. I was the only one present, and so I chose one of the seats, sat down, and waited to be called.

ViaOptics International was located adjacent to the Panasonic building in Newark, New Jersey. Those familiar with the area surrounding both buildings were also aware – that is, if you were an avid sports fan, – that the Prudential Center, or home of the NHL’s New Jersey Devils, was just two blocks west. Since I was a fanatical hockey fan, and Devils fan at that, I was well aware of my surroundings.

ViaOptics International was just south of the Panasonic building and just one block east of Market Street. The Prudential Center was within walking distance from McCarter Highway or Route 21. At night, the city of Newark was brightly lit, not too dissimilar from any other large city. ViaOptics’ luminescence was equal to that of both the Panasonic building and the Prudential Center. The very fact that I was here for an interview suggested that I may be lucky and fortunate. At least I tried to convince myself of such luck and intended coincidence.

While the lights were absent during the daylight hours, the building’s stature, particularly in downtown Newark, remained impressive. As I walked into the lobby, I couldn’t help but feel goose bumps, while I made my way to the eighteenth floor. The people in the lobby, and the elevator for that matter, seemed happy, engaged in light banter with others, and went about their business in a comfortable and casual manner.

I had a good feeling about this interview; if nothing else, I certainly convinced myself that I did. I started to wonder, as I sat in front of the television, how many nights I could leave work, on a Friday night similar to this one, and head over to The Rock for a Devils game or, as was the case on this Friday night, a concert starring a popular artist who was promoting his or her latest CD. Life would be good again, that’s for sure.

Maybe I could meet my soul mate, too, at ViaOptics. I didn’t see why not; it happened to everyone else I knew.

This had to work out for me, I thought.

CHAPTER 2

I HEARD FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING the lounge, and I raised my head only to discover the presence of Mrs. Garrison and not Mrs. Beatrice Danielson.

I noticed not a smile on her face but a dour expression, as she entered the lounge. If this was a premonition, it didn’t sit well with me. I suddenly was not fond of Mrs. Andrea Garrison.

Mr. Tierney, she said, please follow me.

I followed her down a short hallway and into a small conference room. The room was somewhat dark, with a couple of lamps offering what little light they could. Mrs. Garrison flicked the switch of the overhead light, but it didn’t make the room any brighter.

Mrs. Danielson will be with you shortly, she stated, and she motioned for me to be seated at the conference table.

I sat with my back to the room’s entrance, waiting to hear the footsteps of my prospective employer. The day was a bit dreary, which may have added to the room’s dark tones; the incessant rain finally ceased at around 7:00 a.m. this morning. The sun was just beginning to creep into view when I entered the building, hopefully another positive sign of good fortune in my future. However, nothing so far would indicate that luck was on my side.

I heard the approaching footprints, and I turned, hoping to see a woman with a smile on her face, one that would grant me a little peace prior to what I anticipated would be an intense investigation into my background and character. Instead, the look matched that of the Garrison creature who led me to this dungeon of a waiting room. She wore a frown and had a face that screamed head-cold all over it. Of course the tissues in her hand may have tipped me off to her condition. I hoped that the resulting frown was on account of her illness and not due to my mere presence.

Good morning, Mr. Tierney, she began. Welcome to ViaOptics International. My name is Mrs. Danielson, and I am the Assistant Chief Executive Officer.

First impressions go a long way, that’s for sure. The very fact that she did not offer her first name, Beatrice, coupled with the fact that she stated her title precisely, suggested that the interview was over before it had started. My mind started racing and was in search for answers.

Unfortunately, I am a bit under the weather, I’m afraid to say. Please forgive me, she pleaded.

I am sorry to hear that, I said. I hope you feel better soon.

I knew nothing I said would change the climate in the room. I would be shocked if this interview turned a complete 180 degrees in my favor.

I have read your resume, Mr. Tierney. I can see you have some experience with cutting-edge technology and, in particular, international sales, she stated.

Yes, while I was with StellarPro…

I was abruptly cut-off in mid-sentence, my very first sentence in the interview.

ViaOptics International also deals significantly in e-commerce on a global scale; in fact, we have grown exponentially by 40% this past month alone, she offered.

That’s great news. Congratulations… again, my words meant nothing to her, and it was beginning to be obvious.

We are very proud of our achievements. We expect to be at the forefront of the next technological age at the turn of the next decade, perhaps even before that. Mrs. Beatrice Danielson was proud to exploit the achievements of the company for my benefit, almost as a tease.

I would love to be a part of this great success, I said, managing to finish a complete thought.

Many of our employees simply love being a part of our corporation. Those who are privileged to become part of this company receive a generous salary and benefits package. Their contributions are appreciated and their efforts are rewarded, she finished with a slight grin, as if hammering the final nail in the coffin.

I simply stared at her, knowing that anything I offered at that moment would be superfluous. She returned a blank countenance, as if tempting me to beg for the position.

As I stated previously, I would be honored to be a part of this…

Tell me why you left your previous position, Mr. Tierney, she inquired.

I wondered to myself if this was a legitimate question, or if she was simply wasting more of my time. I believed it was the third time she cut me off in mid-sentence. I deduced that her genuine lack of professionalism, which I also determined had no connection with any illness she may be enduring, was intentional, and she was playing me for a fool.

Well, as you can see by my resume, I spent the last two years working as the Chief Finance Executive for StellarPro Services, I started to explain. I didn’t say too much more, but I noticed a clear look of disdain written all over her face. I was just about to stand up and announce that the interview, if you could call it that, was over with, at least as far as I was concerned, when a knock upon the conference room door called for our attention.

I look towards the door and then at Mrs. Danielson. I saw that she was surprised by the disruption. Of course I thought about getting the door myself, but it wasn’t my position to do so; furthermore, why should I extend any courtesy to this woman, who was completely indifferent to my presence, to say the least?

She started to stand, as the door to the room was closed. Just then the door was slowly opened. In walked a woman I could only assume was an employee, one who must not have known the room was currently occupied.

The next ten seconds would reveal two important facts: one, that the woman was not an employee of ViaOptics International and certainly not recognized by the effervescent Mrs. Danielson; two, my life as I knew it was about to change, profoundly and unexpectedly.

Excuse me, young lady, Beatrice began, this is a private interview.

This will only take a second, the woman stated.

When the woman spoke, she never made eye contact with Beatrice. She took a chair, pulled it close to me, and sat down. When she looked at me, she smiled.

I had no idea who this woman was; I had no idea what was happening. The only thought going through my mind at that moment in time was this: Holy cheese and crackers! I am in love.

I had never seen a more attractive woman in my lifetime. In fact, I often wondered what the differences were between women I often categorized as beautiful as opposed to those who were flat-out hot. Most guys understand that there were differences, but the lines could get blurry.

There were those women you wanted to make love to, slowly and passionately, with whom you could imagine sharing a lifetime of happiness. Then there were others with whom you would want to share an evening of passion, furiously and immediately, if that makes any sense, regardless of whether or not there was a future in it for the two of you. This has never been my style but, for time immemorial, it has been the way of the world.

Don’t get me wrong, I did not consider myself shallow in the least, although you may have already come to the conclusion that I am. However, when my eyes found themselves staring at this woman who sat down opposite me, my emotions took a tail-spin; I wanted to make love to her immediately right there and then, regardless of Mrs. Beatrice Danielson, and I wanted her to myself for the rest of my life. I guess that I deduced she was both beautiful and hot, a notion with which my mind and loins would have to grapple.

She extended her hand to me, Hello, Kyle. It’s nice to meet you.

I shook her dainty hand, and I swear I almost passed out. This woman was stunning; she was gorgeous and demanded my attention. As I said, my emotions were on fire. Who was she and what did she want with me? It didn’t matter, I was smitten the second she entered the room.

My name is Nikki. Nikki Page.

I am sorry, but I must ask you to leave at once, Beatrice scolded.

Nikki didn’t flinch. She was very composed. Instead, she gave me a smile, turned her head ever so slowly in Beatrice’s direction, and said, No, Mrs. Danielson, I am the one who is sorry; sorry for you that is. You had your chance.

Nikki then turned back to me.

Kyle, I believe by now you know she has no intention of hiring you. It was a reference check, your previous employer screwed you. Isn’t that correct, Mrs. Danielson?

I couldn’t believe what was happening or what I was hearing. I believe my jaw slackened out of shock.

If you do not leave this instant, I will call for security, Beatrice was getting hot under the collar. I was beginning to enjoy this. I was falling head over heels for Nikki.

Nikki smiled at Danielson, Let’s keep it nice, Beatrice. Otherwise, my boss will have to contact Mr. Rothstein on your behalf, and I know it would not be in your best interest.

It was Beatrice who now sat motionless. She felt humiliated, and her ego fell to the floor. Nikki’s threat was, in essence, a lobotomy, and it worked like a charm. Whatever she meant by her comment caused Beatrice to sit with her hands folded in her lap and her mouth shut like a trap.

Nikki looked back at me and smiled, Kyle, why don’t you finish up here. I will wait for you in the lobby. I would like to speak with you for a few minutes, if that’s okay with you.

Few minutes? I wanted her to stay with me all day; in fact, I wanted her all night, as well. Heck, how about the rest of my life? My mind was racing, my heart was melting, and below the waist I was bursting.

Yes, of course, I stammered.

Nikki smiled, I will see you in a few minutes then.

I don’t know who you are… My words trailed off as I stared into her olive green and golden eyes. How do you know who I am? I’m confused.

I understand, she said. Trust me, Kyle. Unlike Beatrice here, I have an offer for you that you won’t want to pass up. I will explain everything in the lobby.

Again she smiled, and then she stood up to leave. She faced Beatrice Danielson, whose face was as red as a Mackintosh apple, and whose tight-lipped grin could not conceal her anger towards Nikki.

Good day, Mrs. Danielson. May I give you a word of advice? Nikki asked. She didn’t wait for Beatrice to answer, as the question was rhetorical. In the future, be sure to check all of the references on a candidate. After all, you do aim to make an informed decision, correct? She started to turn, but she added, You never know when you will need someone to speak honestly about you?

Mrs. Danielson’s complexion went from red to white. It was clear that she took Nikki’s comments almost as a threat.

The room was silent as Nikki left to meet me downstairs. Beatrice stared at the door for a moment before regaining her wits, and then she faced me.

I stood up and walked to the door.

If you had no intention of hiring me, you could have simply cancelled, I said. I felt my anger rising. Instead, you set out to humiliate me, didn’t you? I hope someone in your future extends the same courtesy to you. Karma is a persistent bitch! Then I left the conference room.

CHAPTER 3

T HE RIDE IN the elevator from the eighteenth floor couldn’t go quickly enough. I knew Nikki was waiting for me. Who was she? What did she want with me? I started to wonder whether her sudden presence in my life was anything but positive. How could someone so beautiful be anything but benign? Also, to her credit, she stood up for me against Mrs. Beatrice Danielson. How bad could she be?

Then I had more questions. How did she know about my whereabouts? How did she know that my previous employer sabotaged my interview? She had to go to great lengths in order to have this information, I thought. Why was I so important?

I noticed the elevator reached the third floor, and before I knew it, I had reached the lobby. I was about to learn a little more about Ms. Nikki Page, and I couldn’t wait.

The elevator doors opened, and I searched the lobby’s interior for Nikki. People were ambling about in casual conversation, walking in and out through the building’s egress. Then I saw her across the room, standing boldly and confidently.

Nikki saw me enter the lobby, and as our eyes met, she once more smiled. She turned her body in my direction as I approached. It was as if time slowed immeasurably; it seemed as if I was caught in slow-motion.

She was a woman in