The session went on in sequence-the businesslike, efficient, unstressed that I had been expecting. Behind the extended conference table sat the man I thought I knew, the man I had thought of in these highest secret reports about illicit gun-running.
In contrast to his fellow speakers, who spoke openly of revenues and business plans, he was serene, listened more than he spoke.
If I hadn't known something that I was, I would have thought of him only as an executive.
But that was the problem—I did know.
I tried to sneak a look over at him. His face showed nothing.
No nervous tic, no looking away.
Just calm, easy and silent.
He responded where necessary only, and for his part his responses were brief and sweet.
A man of few words.
And still, under his calm exterior, I was convinced that he was not to be trusted.
I just could not prove it.
Nathaniel stood by my side unabashedly, rearranging the meeting in his characteristic ease of demeanor.
"Peace will now introduce you all to our projected growth for this quarter."
I blinked.
Wait—what?
I had forgotten where we had been up to.
My head was full of this man in front of me whom I hadn't yet understood, it was now my turn.
Every eye was on me then.
I swallowed, my hand reaching in a flash to grab the paper in front of me. Blurred lines met.
I knew these faces—I had labored over this presentation for weeks—but now, at this moment, my head was in revolt.
I stood, battling with nervousness. "Um. "Yes, our projection." I forced a swallow to pull out an embarrassed smile. "We have undertaken market trends analysis and expect to realize a noteworthy growth in revenues in segments which have registered consistent growth over the last year."
I tried to focus, rolling over in the report. "Other than this, investments will diversify for hedging against risks."
The words were empty, robotic.
I could hear myself gritting. My usual suave self-confidence was absent. My shoulder knots clenched with ferocity as I could feel each eye on me in the room.
Having played my turn, I took slow breaths in order not to fight the desire to rub hands across my skirt.
Nathaniel moved in effortlessly, filling in the blanks I had left blank. I felt the room tilt over so slightly—some of the executives exchanging a glance. They had caught on to my hesitation.
I folded my hands in my lap so they would be concealed.
The man I was trailing hardly flinched. If anything, he was mildly amused.
By the time we finished the meeting, Nathaniel came to meet me and asked me what the meaning was of what happened.
I swallowed. "I just. I wasn't myself."
His eyes narrowed a little, but instead of calling for an argument, he nodded slightly. "Next time, focus."
I nodded quickly, glad he wasn't calling for a do-over.
As we exited the conference room, I strode along with my head bowed not to engage in unnecessary chatter. My head was in disarray.
Nothing had occurred.
No threats. No veiled threats. No hint of illegal activity.
The man I feared was merely a shy businessman among dozens in an office full of bosses.
So why was I still in this wretched situation?
The next workday, I attempted to look beyond the embarrassment during the meeting.
I constructed a paper fortress, an e-mail fortress, and anything else that came in sight to distract my head.
But not to be forgotten.
The way I had been plodding through my presentation.
The way Nathaniel had then spoken to me.
And above all, it was the way the man had simply sat there—still, serene, completely unruffled.
I was completely lost in my thoughts and did not even see Nathaniel entering my office until he had closed the door behind him.
"Peace."
I sat up straight in my chair, quickly covering up my emotions. "Sir?"
He put his arms on the table, crossing them. "What happened yesterday?"
My heart pounded, but I kept up an empty facade. "At the meeting?"
Nathaniel nodded, with a sober gaze at me. "That wasn't standard. You sounded off. Target-impaired." He shifted his head to one side. "It was evident."
I gulped, assuming an airy attitude. "I wasn't so good."
His look never wavered. "What went wrong?"
I hesitated for but a single instant before delving into the most obvious pretext that occurred to me: "Menstrual cramps."
Nathaniel tensed up at once and swallowed hard, his eyes somewhat awkward. "Oh."
I covered my stomach with a hand in pretended distress. "It was awful, but I couldn't have gotten sick at the last second." I attempted to cough up a little humor. "I should have, maybe more composed."
He relaxed, his hands through his hair. "You should have warned me. Next time don't try so hard."
He got up from my desk.
"Good. "You're just too important to this organization to have something stand in the way of your performance.
His tone was tough to the verge of threat, but his face was calm.
"Let's not let things go over like yesterday."
I nodded again. "Of course."
He turned to leave but paused at the door.
"By the way, Lucas will be back in a couple of days. I know you inquired about him."
I stood unmoved. "Oh. That's good to hear."
Nathaniel gave me one last glance before he left, and I was by myself.
I breathed out, shivering slightly as I hunched forward to grab my computer.
I had talked Nathaniel into it—so far. But the real issue was not him.
It was me.
I couldn't help but reminisce about that man during the meeting.
The one I met was getting into something dangerous.
I unfolded the paper that I had found in relation to Nathaniel's company, flipping through to where he was operating his illegal gun business.
The names.
The associations.
The facts.
My eyes had been drawn immediately by the picture stapled to the documents.
It was his.
Same man in the meeting.
But this time he wasn't wearing his suit.
He was standing in a sparsely lit warehouse, gun clutched in his hand, surrounded by pallet upon pallet of illegal guns in shipping crates.
I gazed at the photo, my breath held.
This was no longer suspicion.
It was true.
And I didn't know what to do next.