The Secret Manuscript

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Kyle did not want anything to do with the manuscript so he left Ben to toil with it. He was much more practical than Ben. Instead of trying to manipulate events for personal gain, he came up with a strategy to get his life back on track. Without his research job at the university or a permanent place to stay, he felt like his time in Calgary had run its course. Leaving town would also allow him to distance himself from the dangers of being associated with Ben.

  “So that’s it, huh? You’re leaving?”

  “Yep.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

  “Here man, take this number,” Ben said as he grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a number on it.

  “Whose number is this?”

  “Her name is Velena,” Ben said, handing Kyle the paper. “She was the woman from the bus who offered me a place to stay when I had nothing; maybe she’ll do the same for you.”

  “You have her number memorized?”

  “It’s the same as the code to get into the secret room, so yeah, I have it memorized.”

  “So you’re just going to stay here?” Kyle asked.

  “I have over a hundred thousand dollars sitting in my brokerage account. All I need to do is transfer that money out, and I’ll be fine.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Thanks, good luck to you too.”

  Kyle walked downstairs and said goodbye to Gladys. He gave her a hug, and then left. Without any money, his only play was to walk toward the highway with his thumb out and hope someone would pick him up and take him to Cold Lake.

  With Kyle gone, Ben was back to being lonely and miserable. What Ben had not realized at the time was how much Kyle meant to him. Having a friend he could trust in his life was more valuable than money. Perhaps it was the greed in him, but he had hoped he could have both.

  After waving goodbye, Ben excused himself from Gladys’s company to make a phone call.

  “Can you give me my balance please?” Ben asked.

  “After fees and commissions, your balance is $158,320.22. Congratulations, Mr. Owen, I’ve never seen an ROI quite like this. You open up an account on Monday, and by the end of the week nearly double your investment. Some of the greatest traders in the world can’t even do that.”

  “What can I say, I had a hunch. Call it beginner’s luck I guess.”

  “Well then, Mr. Owen, you are the luckiest guy I’ve ever seen.”

  “How soon can I expect this money?”

  “EFTs typically take 3-5 business days. You’ll probably see your money by the end of next week.”

  “Alright, thank you.”

  Ben hung up the phone and went downstairs. He explained to Gladys he would have some money coming in soon and asked if he could stay with her until then. Gladys had no problem with that and insisted he stay longer. Ever since her husband had passed, she welcomed the company.

  Throughout the week, Ben tried to make himself as useful as possible by doing chores around the house. Whenever he was not busy cleaning, he and Gladys would talk for hours. It was actually quite therapeutic in many ways since it allowed Ben to open up about his life. It also helped him work on his communication skills. Being a recluse, he avoided a lot of face-to-face interactions with people and rarely made new friendships. After spending so much time with Gladys, he had come out of his shell substantially. Despite the benefits, he still needed some alone time, so he would go to the university often.

  Whenever he left Gladys’s house, it was usually at night or early morning and always through the back exit. With two killers knowing where he lived, Ben thought it would be wise to stay as far away from his neighbourhood as possible. With each moment he stayed there, he was putting Gladys in danger, but he did not have a choice. Moving back to Cold Lake with Kyle was not an option he was willing to entertain. It had taken him far too long to leave that soul trap and he was not ready to go back there just yet.

  Sneaking through several backyards, Ben eventually emerged onto the main road where he could blend in a little better. Wearing his parka with the fur-lined hood pulled low over his head, he waited at the bus stop with the other commuters. Within a few minutes, the bus showed up, pushing through the morning fog as it slowed to a stop in front of the crowd of people. Ben walked on, paid his fare, and took a seat near the rear exit.

  The bus made several stops throughout the city, picking up young and ambitious college students who were heading to their morning classes. First the seats filled up, then the aisles. The more packed the bus became, the more Ben’s anxiety rose. To take his mind off his claustrophobia, he tried to ignore the chatter and focus instead on the rhythmic hum of the bus and the scenery outside. Periodically, condensation formed on the window, but he would wipe it away with his sleeve. Through the blurry window, he saw cars whizzing by, pedestrians huddling together at intersections, and buildings decrease in size as the bus travelled further from the downtown core. The long bus ride allowed Ben to clear his mind and think about his next move.

  After about forty minutes, the bus stopped at the main terminal on the University of Calgary campus and everyone funnelled out the two exits. Ben was one of the last to leave. With his backpack slung over one shoulder, he rose from his seat, and walked along a pathway like everyone else.

  Entering the computer lab, Ben found his usual spot near the back. He unzipped his jacket, threw his backpack on the chair next to him, and took a seat. Among the things he retrieved from the secret room was his flash drive. That was where the file of his novel had been saved. Throughout the past week, he had spent at least part of each day at the campus library writing his novel. He had about 50,000 words written and was quite happy with the way the plot was developing so far. After inserting the drive and loading the file, Ben cracked his knuckles and began to work. The scene he was working on was where his character, named Ben, encountered some bad men, who broke down his door and roughed him up. As he was furiously typing away, he had an unexpected break in concentration combined with the sudden urge to look up. When he followed his instinct, he had to do a double take because he could not believe his eyes.

  “Impossible,” he said to himself.

  Ben shrank low in his seat to conceal himself behind his computer screen. He quickly saved his work and waited for his flash drive to safely eject. Once finished, he took the flash drive and shoved it in his pocket. He poked his head over the monitor and saw the two men who had tried to kill him walking toward him. He put his backpack around his shoulders and cinched the straps tightly in case he had to run. The two men walked slowly, carefully scanning the faces of the students in the computer lab. As they approached, Ben crouched down and hid under the desk.

  How did they find me? he asked himself.

  He followed the men’s legs, which were at opposite ends of the row of computer terminals, and hoped they would not look under the desk.

  “He’s under the desk!” one of the men yelled out.

  The commotion caught the attention of everyone in the library. Ben bolted from his position and hurdled over a vacant computer station. Once his feet hit the ground on the other side, he sprinted as fast as he could. Again, he led the men on a foot chase. This time, they did not have access to their car. Even though the two men were not as agile as Ben, they were not far behind. Ben ploughed through a few people and exited the library.

  Not knowing his way around campus, Ben ran in the only direction he knew. Darting across an open field like a madman, Ben headed toward the science building. He burst through the doors and staggered up the stairs. His pace had slowed considerably as he was now exhausted and completely out of breath. Once at the top floor, Ben was dripping with sweat. He turned around to see if he had lost his pursuers. Fortunately, they were not behind him. He continued on his way, but was not paying attention to what was in front of him. He clumsily bumped into a girl in the hall, causing her to dro
p her papers.

  “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry,” he said, offering to help pick them up.

  The woman bent down to pick up her papers as did Ben, yet the whole time he kept looking over his shoulder.

  “Are you okay?” the woman asked.

  Ben turned his head back around and looked at the woman for the first time.

  “Vanessa?” he said in disbelief.