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The Benefactor

What would you do with twenty-thousand dollars?

By Ebony RosePublished 3 years ago 9 min read
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The Benefactor
Photo by Bookblock on Unsplash

"What can I get you?" The waitress asked, eyeing Elijah warily. 

"The strongest thing you've got," he replied flatly, not bothering to glance up. He was slumped over the bar, his entire body aching.

"I'll just have to check with my manager," the woman murmured. 

"Of course you do," he chuckled. The waitress worried her lip, staring back at him.

"You know, sometimes it's easier to talk about it," she offered, and this time Elijah did look up.

"Lady, I wouldn't know where to start," he said, grimacing. "And the truth is, you probably wouldn't believe me, if I tried."

"Try me," the woman replied, settling onto the stool beside him. 

"What would you do for twenty-thousand dollars?" Elijah asked, watching as she glanced back at him. She looked skeptical, and Elijah barked out a laugh.

"Yeah, sounds crazy right? don't worry, I thought so too, especially over the last twenty-four hours."

"So what happened?" She pressed, and Elijah finally sat back, deciding to tell his story…

"How would you like twenty-thousand dollars?" asked the old man, sitting on the park bench opposite him.

"I'm sorry, what?" Elijah replied, wondering where this old guy had escaped from?

"Twenty-thousand dollars, no questions asked. The only catch is, you have to hold onto my note book."

Elijah smiled, deciding to humour the old man. "Right," he said, drawing out the word. "Why don't you tell me where you're from, and I'll give them a call, old man."

"I'm completely serious," the man said, his craggy face creasing into a grin. "I will give you the money and all you have to do is hold onto this."

He produced a small black note book from his pocket, the soft moleskin worn and faded. For some reason Elijah found the book intimidating, but he couldn't say why.

"You know what, this is ridiculous," Elijah said, grabbing his briefcase. "I have to get back to work and-"

The old man tossed a wad of bills into Elijah's lap, silencing him. 

"Twenty-thousand dollars to hold my notebook for twenty-four hours, what do you say?"

Elijah stared at the money, his mouth going dry. "How do I know whatever's in that book isn't going to land me in jail?" He asked.

"Ah, yes well, that's the million dollar question," the old man murmured, his twinkling gaze settling on Elijah's. "But surely you don't expect twenty-thousand dollars to land in your lap, without some sacrifice?"

Elijah eyed the note book warily, before reaching out to take it. "Where will I meet you?" He asked, pocketing the cash.

"Right at this spot," the man answered easily, standing abruptly to collect his walking stick. "Just make sure that you're here on time."

Elijah watched as the older man walked away, dread filling the pit of his stomach. Turning abruptly, he headed for the sub-way, reaching for his phone.

"Hey Brenna?" Elijah greeted, when his call connected. "I can't come back to the office today, but I'll call you tomorrow."

"Oh, my," she said, sounding concerned, "I hope everything's okay."

Elijah murmured a suitable reply, then ended the call. He didn't usually take the day off, so his boss will probably chalk it up to some emergency. 

"Just get home," Elijah told himself, willing his train to arrive. Once he was there, he'd be able to breathe.

"Hey pal," said a voice from beside him, "Haven't we met before?"

Elijah glanced up at the towering man, his massive frame taking up most of the platform. 

"Um, no I don't think-" The sudden impact of a fist connecting with Elijah's ribs, had him doubling over with pain.

"What the...?" 

"Just give me the damned book," the thug snarled, "And maybe, I'll let you live."

"Hey!" Shouted a commuter, "I'm calling the police." Elijah stumbled back, and the man released him.

"I'll find you," the man growled, his eyes full of promise, "And when I do, I'll take that book off your lifeless corpse."

Elijah watched as the man stepped back, disappearing behind the barrier.

"Are you okay?" The commuter called out. Elijah glanced up, realising that people were pointing their phones at him.

"I, I have to go," he murmured, stumbling onto the nearest train. 

"Is everything alright?" A stunning woman asked him, her long fingers trailing over Elijah's arm, as he sat beside her. 

"I don't know," he replied, feeling confused. "Some guy just jumped me and-"

"Don't lie," the woman said, her tone pleasant. "You were asked for the black book, and you didn't produce it."

Elijah stared at the woman, completely stunned. She pulled out a knife and pressed it into his side.

"Give me the book," she hissed, leaning forward. Elijah paled, shifting in his seat.

"Do you mind?" an old woman demanded, when Elijah pushed against her.

"Help me," he yelled, his tone desperate. 

"Now honey, don't be like that," the stranger cooed, advancing slowly. "These nice people don't want to hear our little spat."

Elijah shook his head, wondering if he were going insane. He should never have listened to that crazy old man and his insane offer!

"I don't know you!" Elijah yelled, his gaze darting frantically inside the carriage.

"Yeah," another commuter called, sounding amused. "She's definitely above your pay grade, pal." Elijah winced when everyone sniggered, everyone, except the unknown woman.

"Here, take it," Elijah growled, reaching into his pocket to pull out the note book. When the woman's gaze dropped to his hand, Elijah launched himself across the seat, barrelling into her. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" One man yelled, grabbing at Elijah's arm. He needn't have bothered, the momentum of Elijah's body sending them both to the floor.

"Fool," the woman hissed, planting her elbow into Elijah's groin. 

"Ahhh," he yelled, rolling away. Pain hit Elijah instantly, his legs curling up into his body.

"Give me the book," she demanded, reaching into Elijah's pockets as he flailed on the ground. Elijah thrust his knee into the her stomach, making her groan.

"You're crazy!" Another passenger yelled, but Elijah wasn't listening. He dragged himself off the floor, stumbling towards the exit of the slowing train.

"Come back!" She yelled, trying to reach for him. Elijah made it outside in seconds, his feet taking him over to the waiting taxi rank.

"Take me to five, five, five, West End Drive," he told the driver, flopping into the seat.

"You okay?" The driver asked, but Elijah ignored him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the black note book. 

"What the hell?" He murmured, staring at the pages. All he could see were numbers listed across each page. 

Once he reached his apartment, Elijah grabbed the frozen peas from the freezer. "Oh, God," he groaned, pressing the cold compress to his groin. He had to find out what those numbers meant, before it was too late.

Elijah decided to ring the one person he knew, would be able to help him.

"It's Snake," came the immediate reply, from the private number. 

"Snake, it's Elijah, I need your help." 

Snake listened quietly, while Elijah explained the whole situation. When he finished, Snake sucked in a breath.

"Um, okay..." He said, trailing off.

"Is that all you have to say?" Elijah demanded.

"No, I'd like to say, don't accept big wads of cash from crazy old men, but hey, that horse has already bolted."

"Can you help me or not?" Elijah demanded.

"Just give me a few hours and I'll see if I can decipher the code," Snake promised. Elijah grimaced, stumbling over towards his bed. He didn't even bother to take off his shoes, just face planted onto the covers, falling dead asleep.

A sound woke Elijah, some five hours later. He opened his eyes and squinted into the darkness, trying to work out what had woken him? 

The sound came again, and Elijah picked up his phone, peering at the screen.

"What the..?" He wondered, sliding his finger across to open the text.

Snake: The numbers in the book are launch codes. You need to go to the police, you're not safe.

Elijah: What sort of launch codes?

Snake: I don't know, but you don't want to find out!

Elijah shot out of bed, grabbing the note book.

"Elijah Jacobs, come out with your hands up," called a voice from the front door. "This is the police, and we have you surrounded." Elijah glanced out the window, gazing at the police cars parked outside.

"Elijah Jacobs, your under arrest for suspected terrorist activity, open the door, or we'll be forced to break it down."

Elijah paled, his brain seizing on the absurdity of the situation. How could the police think he was a terrorist? 

"Alright, I'm coming out," he lied, easing open the back window. 

"Dammit!" Elijah growled, when the fire escape ended far too soon. Forcing himself to drop the rest of the way, Elijah landed awkwardly onto the hard surface, rolling his ankle.

"Oh, God," he groaned, clutching his injured leg as he stumbled along the path. He ducked behind a dark building, then into a dimly lit bar.

"...And now you are here," The waitress announced, her gaze filled with interest.

"Here I am," Elijah agreed, gritting his teeth.

"What are you going to do now?" She asked, glancing down at the small note book, still held in Elijah's hand.

"I'm not sure," he replied, opening the pages.

"What's that?" She asked, pointing to a small lump, in the lining of the moleskin. 

"I don't know," Elijah admitted, smoothing his finger over the lump. Taking the note book from his hands, the waitress used her long nails to slide under the edging.

"Oh my God, look!" She exclaimed, pulling out a blinking metallic object. "This must be how they kept finding you!" 

Elijah stared at the device, his mind whirring.

"I think you've been played young man," the waitress said, and Elijah winced in response. No wonder the police had turned up at his apartment! The old man must have set him up from the start.

"Where are you going?" She asked, as Elijah got to his feet.

"I'm going to give the old man some payback," he promised.

Elijah sat on the park bench, watching as the old man approached a young-looking businessman.

"How would you like to have twenty-thousand dollars?" he asked, his voice carrying across the quiet parkland.

"I'm sorry," the man replied, his tone perplexed.

"Twenty-thousand dollars," Elijah said, cutting into their conversation. He sauntered over to where the older man sat, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

"Young man, I didn't expect to see you here," the old man said, his eyes glaring daggers at Elijah.

"I'm sure you didn't," Elijah replied. "Do you just sit here and wait for a sucker to come along, or do you plan your attack, and set up your targets?"

The older man grinned. "I just found a way to entertain myself," he replied, his voice cold. "When you get to my age, sometimes you have to create your own interests. I bought those launch codes years ago, and now I hand them over to pathetic men, who run from the authorities while avoiding terrorist groups!"

Elijah shook his head, wondering what sort of socio-path could possibly do such a thing.

"Is that all you need?" Elijah asked, to no one in particular. When police swarmed the area, the old man's eyes went wide.

"Thank you Mr. Jacobs, we have everything we need now."

Elijah watched as they hand cuffed the old man, taking him to the waiting police car.

"Sorry about all of this," one of the police officer's said. Elijah just closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sun.

"Don't worry," he replied calmly, "I got a twenty-thousand dollar tip, for my trouble."

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About the Creator

Ebony Rose

A bit about myself! I have dreamt of writing since my early childhood years. I remember telling my parents how much I wanted to be a writer and now my dream has come true.

I love to write about people who find true, all encompassing love.

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