Chapter 106

"Miss...I'm sorry, I just realized I actually don't know your full name?"
"That's on purpose. You really don't want to tell me what this is all about, do you?" Her mind racing, Taph made every kind of calculation she could on the spot. "And you swear you're good for the money?"
"Every penny, you know I am."
"I guess I do. Okay. You've got a deal."
He began to smile, the first time she'd seen him look anything but worried. She quashed it immediately.
"IF...you answer one more question," she said.
And this time it was her turn to lean in, so close that they were almost huddled together in the corner booth, under the dim yellow sodium lights of the bar.
"Tell me what's in it," she said.
The color left Callum's face. Taph had never actually seen that happen to anyone before, and she found it more unnerving than she'd have thought.
"Absolutely not," he said, sounding stalwart all of a sudden. "Out of the question."
"Okay. But no answers, no deal."
She watched him scramble in his mind. Finding no reply, he could only put up one hand, as if that alone would stop her. When Taph stood this time, she knew she really was leaving.
"I'm sorry we couldn't work out another exchange. In the meantime, Mr. Callum, the box is all yours...except you don't want it, do you?"
Callum looked defeated, almost sullen, like a child. Not making eye contact, he shook his head.
"I'll take it with me then," said Taph, picking it up off the table. It felt heavier now somehow. "For safekeeping. It's yours the moment you tell me you want it—or if you ever want to tell me the truth about it, I'll get rid of it however you please. Those are the terms. Think it over and get back to me."
"You don't really want to know," Callum said. "If I told you, you'd do anything to not know anymore."
"I guess we'll never find out now," said Taph. And, tucking the box under her arm, she left before he could reply.
Outside, the night air chilled the sweat on her skin, and she only then realized how heavily she'd perspired. The meeting had lasted less than 30 minutes, but it felt like she'd been in that little middle-of-the-road bar all night.
She called a car, and when it came she sat in the backseat. The box was in her lap. She stared at it the entire ride home. Just junk, she thought, a waste of time. But apparently not so to everyone.
For the millionth time since she got it, she pressed her fingers up on the lid, trying to pry the box open. As usual, it was no good. But she didn't stop trying the entire trip home.
***
He held out longer than she would have expected; almost three weeks. When Callum finally broke down and called her again, it wasn't to a bar this time but a hotel.
Not up to his room; she wouldn't have been caught dead. Instead they met on an elaborate rooftop patio atop the 33rd floor, accessible by a glass elevator that gave soaring views of downtown. It was pretty impressive, she admitted—but Callum didn't want to impress her, or else they'd have met here the first time.
The hotel was a real five-star affair. Most of the places around here were classical buildings that marketed their history and atmosphere, but this one was young, new, and brash, the architecture almost brutalist in its disregard for convention.
The roof patio was a solid slab of showy luxury, with black marble flooring and gurgling fountains and a full bar with hundreds of bottles lit from the back like jewels, each of them at least as expensive as a night in one of the better suites. It was a cold evening, but a gauntlet of high-tech heating lamps cast orange halos across the veranda.
It was completely empty except for Callum, who was already well into his drink when she arrived (not the first one of the night, by the looks of it) and sitting near the placid black mirror of a reflecting pool. His body language was strange—one part marionette off its strings, one part junior high kid stood up by his formal date.
Taph felt curiously overdressed on seeing him—he did not appear to have put any particular effort into presentation, despite the five-star surroundings. On some level Taph felt annoyed—or disappointed? She made a mental note to adjust her expectations downward for the future, then set her bag next to him and slid down onto the bench without announcement.
"Got one of those for me?" she said.
"I assumed you'd want to pour your own," Callum responded immediately. In a snap, Taph went back to her feet.
"Don't mind if I do."
Looking over the veritable king's storeroom behind the bar, she weighed each bottle's merits in her mind—and also tried to spot if any had been tampered with. People do crazy things when this much money is involved, especially men.
But he'd have no way of knowing which bottle she'd pick, and he couldn't afford to mess with all of them. Even his wealth had to have limits.
Fixing herself a gin on ice, she sipped and let the expensive liquor pool on her tongue. It was cold all the way down.When she returned to her seat Callum said, "You know your way around a bar."
"I worked my way through college."
"Your father didn't pay your way? He was rich enough—or should have been. I looked him up, he was very respected as a dealer."
"Dad paid for everything; wouldn't have taken no for an answer. But I liked working anyway. Making money of my own mattered. You should never be dependent on just one person in life, no matter what."
"Always the bottom line with you."
"I know what things are worth—including myself." She paused. "Except maybe this place. This one is out of my usual income bracket. You own this too?"
"Not exclusively, I have partners."
"So you can't offer it to me."
"I can offer my shares—it'd be worth far more than any deal you've ever made before." As usual, he wasn't bragging—saying it actually made him nervous, she saw. He didn't like exposing this much about himself. "But you wouldn't take it," he continued.
"Nope."
"Because the fact that I made the offer tells you that what you have is worth much more."
"Now you're learning," she said, and after another cold sip of her drink she leaned back, crossed her legs, and looked out over the edge of the roof. The city in front of them was all dark glass, reflected lights, and the faraway lullaby of wind off the coast. "This really is a nice place though."
"We let it out for private galas. Tonight the schedule was empty, so I thought it's a good place to meet. Private."
"You're a man who likes his privacy," she said.
"'Solitude' is the word I would use."
"Just what is it that you do to make all of this money?"
"Isn't it obvious? I own things." With anyone else this would almost have sounded like a joke, but to Callum humor seemed like an entirely foreign language.
"How'd you get your start then?"
"Family money."
Taph didn't believe that either; Callum had "self-made" practically stamped on his forehead. But he wasn't lying, she sensed. It was just a complicated answer. Curiouser and curiouser. Shrugging it off, she commented on the views again.
"You like heights then?" he said, looking out.
"As much as the next person."
"I like being up here, but I can't get much closer to the edge than this. People usually like to walk right up and get the full view, but I can't bear it."
"The ocean."
"Hmm?" he said. He had been looking out with something like reverie, but now his eyes slid back to her.
"That's my phobia: I don't like deep water. Not being able to see to the bottom—can't trust it. But heights never bothered me."
"Not being able to see the bottom—yes, I imagine. Whereas I hate seeing all the way down. I feel like I'm falling. That's the one thing I can't stand."
"Afraid of being knocked off your perch?"
"I just remember what it's like too well. I'm sorry, you're wondering why you're here?"
"Not really," she said. "You made it pretty obvious on the phone."
"You brought the box?"
"You didn't tell me to."
"Even so, you brought it."
With a pause for suspense, Taph reached into her side bag and pulled out the relic. Not bothering to offer it to him again, she set it on her lap, drumming her fingers on the lid. Dad would have lost his mind if he saw such casual handling of an artifact.
Callum just looked at it as if it were an unwelcome party guest. To her surprise, he reached for it, and she passed it to him without hesitation—it was his, after all. She saw him testing its weight in his hands; it was reasonably heavy itself, but at the same time seemingly empty.