None The Wiser: Introduction

The building was quiet; the noise of the lunch rush just quieting down.

David Craig sat in his third floor office, looking out the window. It had been a rather quiet day on the first floor of the bank. The usual crowd coming through sporadically, cashing checks and making withdrawals. First National Bank and Trust was a popular bank among those with money. Owned by Luciano Tellez and run by Thomas Craine, First National was dubbed the Bank of the South in Time Magazine and David Craig oversaw most of the day to day operations.

Atlanta was a busy city by day and an even busier city by night. Downtown Atlanta transformed into another world once the sun went down and those who were privy, those who were older stayed home behind the safety and comfort of locked doors. The younger crowed roamed the streets, bars open, restaurants with open mic nights came to life, but during the day it was a different world. The businessmen and businesswomen in their creased suits and skirts ran along the sidewalks, briefcases in one hand and coffee in the other. Some would refer to it as a Mini New York during the day and a Mini Atlantic City at night.

The phone on his work desk chimed. “Mr. Craig, Tom has informed me that there’s a somewhat distraught customer on the first floor claiming they’ve been a customer here for over ten years and they don’t understand why we can’t grant them a hundred thousand dollar loan.”

“Okay. And what does Tom have to say about this?”

“Tom is in a meeting with Luc, he can’t handle it at the moment. You’re the next in line, Sir.”

“Say no more. I’ll be down in a moment.”

He hung up the phone and made his way out to the elevators. It was very rare for FNBT to have any kind of altercations with clients. Most of them were of wealth and had no problems getting what they wanted, but on the off chance they did, it was usually Tom’s job to handle them. David shook his head as he exited the elevator on the first floor and made his way over to Lucy.

“Afternoon, Lucy,” he greeted. “Is there a problem here?”

“This man, Claude Daly, claims that he’s been a client with us for ten years, but I cannot find him in the systems and he’s threatening me.”

“Sir,” David looked up. “You say you’ve been a customer with us for ten years?”

“I have. I have my account number and everything. This lady seems to not know how to do her job and she can’t find me in your system.”

“Okay, Sir, I’m going to ask that you please refrain from insulting my employee. I’m sure there’s a reason for this and if you’d give me a moment, I’ll look you up and I’m sure we can solve this problem as soon as possible.” David excused Lucy and took her seat. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he searched for the man, his account number and name not showing up. David’s eyes cut to the man and he noticed the way his brown eyes constantly shot from place to place around the bank; the constant movement of his hands and the constant bouncing of his knee. Training had taught him that nervousness meant danger and the red flag was waving so rapidly above his head. “If you’ll please excuse me, Claude, I’m going to walk over to one of my tellers and have them call up to my boss. For some reason, your account number and name isn’t showing up, but it doesn’t mean that you’re not in there. Mistakes happen with technology all the time,” he smiled as genuinely as he could while grabbing the paper. “One moment.”

As he made his way over to Kimberly, he spoke loudly to create the idea that he was actually talking about this man’s false account. In all honesty, he was asking her to press the red button and call for Tom as quick as possible.

“Kimberly, would you please send Jackson over to that man,” he pointed in Claude’s direction, “and have him relay the message that I have to run up to Tom and I’ll be back in a moment?”

“Of course, Mr. Craig.” He watched as she did as he asked of her before making his way to the elevator. His eyes never left the so-called client’s until he had to enter the elevator and even then, he watched him until the door’s closed.

Between the first and second floor, he heard the alarm ring clearly throughout the building and he let out a string of expletives that his wife and kids would not be proud of.

“Come on. Come on. Come on!” he exclaimed. When the car chimed on the second floor, he exited to a flurry of chaos; employees running this way and that. He tried to stop someone, ask what was going on, but all the woman could do was mumble something about a family and a bomb. “Shit.” He retrieved his cell and dialed Tom’s number. Before he could hang up, a hand landed on his shoulder and Tom stood before him.

“Come on, we need to get you to the bottom floor.”

“What? There’s a bomb threat, Tom. We should be heading towards level ground!”

“Trust me, will you? I know what I’m doing. Yes, he threatened to blow the place up, but he’s no stranger to this bank. We know him. His threats are empty and we’ve already called the cops. Follow me.” There was no more requesting in the end of his statement so David followed his boss to a floor he’d never seen before and prayed that, once again, this man’s threat was an empty one.

“Tom,” David asked, his hands sweaty as he placed them on the man’s shoulder in front of him. “Why are we here?”

“Because Luc asked me to bring you here,” Tom clarified. David watched as he opened a door he’d never noticed before and walked in after him. “Listen, I’m going back up there. I need you to stay in here until I come back to get you, okay?”

“I don’t want to just stay here. There has to be something I can do. If this man is threatening to blow up the fucking building, Tom, I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“Look, I get it, okay? But Luc knows this guy and so do I. So let me handle him and I’ll come back to get you when I’m done. This room is fully secured. You have nothing to worry about.” The tall, brown haired man turned to leave the room. “Don’t do anything stupid, Craig. I’m warning you.”

“Damnit!” he yelled, hands slamming against the oblong wooden table. He took a moment to look around the room. It didn’t look too different from his own office; the floor, concrete and the walls dark. The oblong, cherrywood table sat in the middle of the room with ten chairs, a laptop, four bottles of water and a fresh basket of muffins. The room had obviously been used. Metal file cabinets lined one wall from back wall to door. They stood six drawers high. He was in a meeting room. Just great. He could hear commotion above him and, for a moment, wanted to go check it out. How was he supposed to sit here, patiently, while chaos was happening somewhere in the building? How could anyone stay calm in this situation? Calm. It was funny how that word was usually the first to come to mind when everything was anything but calm.

“This is so fucked,” he muttered to himself as he paced back and forth.

A loud rumble was heard and as the the ground beneath him shook, David reached to grab onto whatever he could. His legs, wobbly, gave out beneath him and he hit the ground. A pain shot through his shoulder, eyes blurred and head dizzy. Pushing up with his good arm, he launched the table off of him and staggered to his feet just as the elevator doors opened.

“Shit, David, are you okay?” Tom ran over, eyes wide. “Wait, hold on. Don’t move, okay? I’m gonna assess your injury.”

“I’m fine, Tom," David groaned, leaning against a metal cabinet. “What the fuck happened? One minute, I’m looking around and the next I’m under a fucking table and my arm is broken.”

“Let’s just say the man on the first floor wasn’t bluffing,” Tom spouted off, looking over the man to check for injuries. He lay a hand on David’s shoulder, causing the taller of the two men to shrug him off harshly. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to hurt you, but we should really get that looked at.”

“Fuck my shoulder, Tom, what the hell is going on!”

Tom sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Well, if you’re not going to get that looked at then I guess there’s no need to stall any longer.” He walked over to the phone that sat in the middle of the table. It was a old thing; brown and yellow coloring to show its age. He picked up the receiver, pressed a few numbers and after a moment, he placed the device on speaker phone. “He’s here.”

“Good,” the voice on the other line answered. Deep, stoic and completely lacking emotion. “David?”

The man in question looked to Tom who nodded once and stepped back from the table. “Yes? I’m here.”

“I don’t have much time to explain the situation, but what I can tell you is that First National Bank and Trust of Atlanta, as of this moment, is no longer in existence. The building you stand in is nothing more than a pile of rubble and soon, it will be taken down completely. I have a proposition for you.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s more like an ultimatum. I own this bank and it, as well as you, are worth more gone than you are, well, here. So, here’s the deal: You can take the money I give you and disappear or,”

David immediately turned beet red. “Wait, you’re telling me that you want me to leave?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“But what about my family!” David exclaimed. He slammed his hands down on the oval table. “My family and my friends are here. My life is here. I’m not just going to up and leave because you have some stupid idea,”

“David!” the man yelled over him, effectively cutting him off. “You don’t have a choice. I’m trying to be nice here. I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you’re trying my patience and I am not a patient man, Mr. Craig.” Silence followed his words and David looked to Tom with wide eyes, silently pleading for help. “Now, as I was saying, I’ve set up an account for you, under a different name. You will take this money, you will disappear and you will not ask questions, is that clear?”

“No, no that’s not fucking clear. With all due respect, Mr., I won’t just leave my family.”

“They will be taken care of,” the cold voice answered. “And you will leave because you don’t have a choice. You’re worth more dead than you are alive. So, if you take the money and run, you live. If you stay, you die. Either way, you’ll no longer be in existence.”

Tom moved around the room until he stood in front of a cabinet. He pulled a drawer open and extracted a folder. Throwing it on the table, he nodded towards it before walking towards the door.

“It’s your choice, Mr. Craig. Choose wisely.” The phone disconnected and David immediately filled with panic. His eyes watered of their own accord and he let out a shaky breath.

“Tom?” His voice came out hoarse and high-pitched. “Damnit, say something!”

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say, Mr. Craig. Once Luc makes up his mind there is no going back. You’ve been given your choice.” Tom bowed his head and walked out of the room, leaving David alone with the bright manilla folder and his own rampant thoughts.

“This isn’t happening,” he muttered to no one. His eyes searched the concrete walls, looking for a way out that didn’t exist. He reached a shaky hand out until his fingertips touch a cool manilla folder and slid it toward himself. The contrast of cool against his hot fingers made him shiver slightly. Flipping the folder open, his eyes roamed over a brand new passport, a business-like proposal, a new bank card. He sighed. The passport read Connor O’Daniels. He had to laugh. The entire situation seemed ridiculous to him. He scanned the information, taking in everything that meant anything. There was an itinerary. Step by step of what to do until he reached the airport and then, the rest was up to him. Well, at least he got to make one decision.

He sat down, plagued with thoughts of his wife, his family. His two children. They were too young to understand that daddy was leaving and his wife, she would be devastated, he knew. His eyes watered, thick and hot tears fell down his face and he hastily wiped them away. No matter what he wanted to do, he knew that the moment he’d walked up to that man, his future had been chosen for him. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the folder, stuck the passport and bank card in his back pocket and made his way out of that cold and dead room.

He weaved his way through the people, making sure to hold his arm close to his person. Every EMT he passed, he waved off. If he stopped now, he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave. He wiped away the tears that blurred his vision and made his way toward the back exit. Taking one last look at what remained of First National, he shuffled toward the all black car that sat a few yards away. Without hesitation, he threw the back door open, climbed in and made sure to slam it behind him. He may not have been able to verbally voice his opinion, but he’d be damned if he was going to respect the car or the people in it. He caught the eyes of the driver in the rearview before the sedan moved onto the road and further away from everything he’d ever known.