Good Man
The faucet kept dripping. Evan sat at a small table nearby, bouncing one leg anxiously and watching the droplets of water form on the tap, swell, and release with a steady rhythm. Evan couldn’t tell if it added to his agitation or eased it, but at least the leaky sink behind the espresso bar gave him something to focus on, other than the task at hand.
His hands felt hot, especially the left one, which perpetually wandered in and out of his pocket to be sure the package was still there. Despite knowing it would be, he needed the constant reassurance. If he lost that package, he was as good as dead.
He was terrified to watch the door, so he kept his eyes on the falling water. As much as he wanted this to be over with, he hoped the stranger would never come. Maybe then he could convince himself that this had all been a sick nightmare, and nothing more.
“You are really not cut out for this.” A deceptively gentle voice broke through Evan’s trance as its speaker appeared in the chair beside him.
Evan was nearly startled into arrhythmia, but regained himself enough to stammer a response as he turned to the newcomer. “You - you said 9:30.”
“And I was here at 9:30, as promised,” replied the man, who set his cup of tea on the table after an ostentatious sip. “Mmm. Spearmint and rose. Just a hint of natural sweetness.”
Evan stared, incredulous at both the gall and the ease of this man, who had so brazenly intruded on Evan’s life. “You were not here, Jack - I’ve been here since 9:15, and you were nowhere. It’s almost 10:00 now.”
Jack smiled with only one side of his mouth and gave Evan an assessing stare. “Oh, I know when you arrived. I watched you come in, as directed. You ordered a black coffee, sat at the designated table, and waited. You take instruction well. You are terrible at looking inconspicuous, but don’t worry, you’re almost finished with that.” Jack sipped his tea. “I waited until I was sure you weren’t followed.”
“I wasn’t.”
“No, you weren’t. I am satisfied,” Jack said. “And I assume you have the package.”
Evan nodded. “I do. I don’t understand what you want with it, but I brought it.”
Jack shook his head. “That’s of no concern to you. Once we make the exchange, your part in this is over. You will never see me again.”
Evan started to pull the parcel from his pocket.
“Easy, Evan, easy,” said Jack, holding up a hand to stop him. “You can’t just bring it out in the open. In a few minutes, you’ll use the restroom. Drop it in the trash. My associate will retrieve it.”
“Associate?” Evan asked. The only other people he saw in the small coffee shop were the barista, and two college students studying over lattes.
“Again, no concern of yours. You just complete your task, and you’ll go on with your life with the private gratitude of your government.”
“You didn’t say you were with the government,” said Evan flatly. His fingers curled into a fist around the small parcel.
“Did I not?” said Jack, maddeningly nonchalant. “It doesn’t change the outcome for you.”
Evan broke out into a cold sweat, the disparate pieces of the puzzle drawing together in his mind. When Jack had first approached him in the restroom at this same coffee shop three days prior, calling him by name, Evan had assumed the man was out for his own benefit.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Anderdahl.” A smooth ribbon of a voice flowed over Evan’s shoulder as he stood at the urinal.
“Who the hell are you?” Evan challenged, hastily finishing his business.
“You can call me Jack Sullivan, if you must. That’s a common name and it isn’t mine, so it’s futile to search it. Your name, however, is unique. I know who you are, what you do, where you live, where you go, and what every single person you care about is doing at this moment, so listen very carefully.” The stranger locked the door to keep anyone else from entering. “I need something very specific, and you are going to get it for me.” Jack pointed to the sink. “Don’t forget to wash your hands.”
Evan froze for a second, then did as he was instructed.. “I’m just a loan officer. I don’t have access to cash or safety deposit boxes or anything of value.” Clearly, Jack knew Evan worked for Blue Lake State Bank, but he was wrong if he thought there was anything Evan could get for him. “Unless you want to apply for a mortgage or a line of credit, I’m not much use to you.”
Jack smiled good-naturedly, which was both comforting and unnerving. “Oh, don’t sell yourself short, Mr. Anderdahl. Or shall I call you Evan? I’ll call you Evan. I think we have enough familiarity for that. And what you can do for me is very simple. I need information that you can access.”
Evan shook his head. “I can’t give you anything - ”
Jack put up a hand. “I just need some basic records. It’s a very simple request. You will copy the files to this drive, give it to me, and continue on as if nothing happened.” Jack pulled a flash drive from his pocket, holding it out to Evan..
Evan’s jaw dropped in horror. “You’re asking for customer records? Are you crazy? I’ll lose my job, or worse.”
Jack nodded. “Yes, that is a possibility, but there are things worse than that. For you, or for someone you love. What are you prepared to risk?”
“Why should I believe you?”
Jack nodded again. “Fair question,” he said, withdrawing a sheet of paper from inside his jacket. He unfolded it and began to read. “Evelyn Anderdahl, mother, 62, works part time at a daycare, took today off for a podiatry appointment. Plantar fasciitis. I would guess her shoes are too restrictive. Recommend something with a wide toe box next time you see her. Brenna Anderdahl, sister, 25, pursuing a BFA at UMD. She is presently in the costume shop, sewing a dress for their upcoming production of Eurydice. Ryan Erickson, 32, best friend - ”
“Okay, enough, stop,” Even interrupted. “I get it. I understand. Please don’t hurt them.”
“That is entirely up to you, Evan,” said Jack, tucking the paper back into his pocket.
Evan stared aghast at Jack, silently mulling over the threat. He liked his job, but it wasn’t his passion. Clearly this man had malicious intentions, but Evan wasn’t sure he was prepared to risk his life, or those of his family and friends, to keep this man from achieving his nefarious ends.
“What exactly do you want?” Evan said, nearly choking on the words.
“You don’t need to know the precise information I need,” Jack replied. “Just make sure all of the client records are included, and I will find what I need among them.”
“It will take time to gather all of that,” Evan said, reluctantly taking the flash drive from Jack’s outstretched hand. “You swear that if I do this, you’ll leave them alone?”
Jack smiled. “It will be like none of this ever happened. Though you may want to consider finding a new occupation in case your access is discovered.”
“Fuck you.”
“Now Evan, let’s keep it civil. This is just a transaction.”
“A transaction that could fuck my entire life.” Evan felt impotent rage building inside him. “Why me? Why did you choose me?”
Jack shrugged. “It isn’t personal, Evan. You just have access to the information I need. That’s all.” Jack unlocked the bathroom door and opened it, gesturing for Evan to exit. Evan stepped through the door, into the nightmare that had been thrust upon him. “Good man, Evan,” Jack said, punctuated with a firm palm on Evan’s shoulder. “Good man.”
“Why does the government want personal banking records of Minnesotans?” Evan asked, before thinking better of it.
“You’re asking too many questions, Evan,” Jack chided, taking another maddeningly long sip from his teacup, visibly savoring the brew. “I think the time has come to conclude our business.”
Evan sat still for a moment, then nodded. His leg was no longer shaking. His apprehension had morphed into resolve. “You’re not a real person at all, are you? The illusion is almost perfect, with your stupid suit and the way you drink your tea, but it’s all an act. You’re just a mimic of a human being, but you’re soulless. You’d have to be, to play these mind games and fuck around with people the way you are. Do you even care what you’ve put me through? What’s been going through my head for the last three days? Do you even realize how many people you’re going to hurt?”
Jack stared Evan down over the rim of his tea cup, dragging one corner of his mouth up into a smirk. “Careful, Evan. You don’t want to draw attention.”
Evan nodded. “Like I said; just a mimic of a human.” He glared at Jack in disgust. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he said. “I’ll do it. But I don’t want the gratitude of this government.”
“That part, you are free to reject. The rest, I’m afraid, is not optional.”
“Fuck you,” Evan retorted, standing. Hot tears stung his eyes as he made his way to the restroom, turning the lock on the bathroom door when it closed behind him. His thoughts were ricocheting, his heart racing, his fingers trembling with rage as he took the wrapped hard drive from his pocket. He stared at it for a moment, then removed his phone from his other pocket. He opened the camera and regarded his ashen face for a moment before hitting record.
“Hey everyone, my name is Evan Anderdahl. I might not be alive anymore as you’re watching this. I almost did something terrible, and I’m sure I’m not the only person they’ve approached and I won’t be the last, but I can at least tell you what I think is going on. I’m a bank employee, and I was threatened into smuggling banking records to a man who I didn’t realize at first worked for the federal government. I think what he wants - this is so fucked up - I think he wants to collect the data of anyone who has donated to Democratic causes and candidates. I’m not sure, but he threatened my family, and I almost went through with it, but I can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry, I hope making this public will keep my family safe. Stay vigilant. Keep resisting.” Evan paused, tears filling his eyes. “That’s all I got.” He stopped the recording and hastily uploaded it to each of his social accounts, one by one.
Evan unwrapped the flash drive. Such a small thing. He held it over the toilet, dropped it into the bowl, and flushed. Terror rippled through him as the bathroom door was jostled from the outside. He opened it to reveal a slender man, dressed nondescriptly in a denim jacket and a Twins hat. Nodding to Evan, he strode beyond him through the door, to the trash can.
Evan hastened out, not pausing to see Jack, still sipping his tea. No sooner had he burst out of the shop onto Nicollet Avenue than he heard gunshots fired down the street. Turning toward the sound, he saw a woman in a pink coat, recording with her phone and screaming “What the fuck did you just do?!”
Without another thought, Evan ran toward the chaos, passing a group assisting a woman with an orange backpack who was desperately trying to clear pepper spray from her face. He held his own phone, ready to record whatever the ICE agents ahead had just done.
Good man, Evan, he thought, daring to hope that was what he could be.
Good man.