Of course, Stuart was here. Of course, the Bissett's thought he was Ender. The Company had thought of everything. Michael thought about sitting in front of Quint, pleading for his life. He couldn't remember all the details he'd shared, but he knew it had been too much. He assumed they'd recorded him. Someone probably charted the details and figured that the timeline of him meeting the family was after his brother had fled. Stuart came a day early to convince them he was the runaway brother.
"And this is how I know you were lying." Victor entered the room behind Michael. He passed him and made his way to the table, placing two hands on Stuart's shoulders. "He told me you had your phone with you the whole time."
"Why are you here?" Michael demanded.
"I wanted to surprise you." Stuart spoke, "My little brother getting married. I dropped everything and came here to be with you." Stuart subtly smirked at Michael.
"I don't want you here," Michael stated.
"I'm here till your wedding. I want to help any way I can." Stuart replied.
"He said you had your phone the entire time," Victor repeated himself as if it were the most critical statement he'd ever made.
"My phone was broken, my phone is broken. I want him to leave immediately." Michael knew he was in no position to make threats, but after seeing Stuart break down in the Malibu dining room, he had no fear of him.
"He is going to stay. He is your brother. He left so he could make money to provide for you." Victor's voice was stern, "Besides, he started his own business. I believe he'll be a valuable asset to have around."
Michael was struggling to wrap his mind around the scene before him. "He didn't send money! This isn't even—"
"Mike!" Stuart cut him off, "I sent it to Granny! I still send it to Granny. You don't want anything to happen to her, do you?"
Michael remembered the photo and shut his mouth.
"You mean Mimsy?" Kat chimed in.
"It's been such a long time." Stuart shrugged.
"Ender, in your company, do you answer your phone?" Victor stated.
"Always, sir." Stuart nodded. Michael rolled his eyes.
"Michael, I appreciate you took the first lesson seriously, but there is a clause in the lesson I didn't talk about. It read; don't fear anyone. It should have read, do not fear anyone except for me. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to punish you." Victor moved across the room. "Ender, go with him. I'll text you the address. The destination is approximately twenty minutes away. I'll call your phone Ender in twenty-five minutes. You need to make sure Michael answers. He needs to learn to use a phone properly."
"Absolutely, sir. Phones are incredibly important, especially when you're an understudy. He should be more grateful." Stuart stood and walked across the room. Michael had an urge to fight him but instead followed him through the living room.
"Did you enjoy ze food?" Alessandra was doing a straight split between two chairs. Her eyes were closed with her arms locked straight up towards the ceiling.
"Ali, is it ok if I call you Ali? The Salade niçoiz was exquisite. I've never had a better meal in my life," Stuart complimented, kissing his fingers.
Alessandra blushed without opening her eyes. "Yur wairds are sweet, but ai think you're sweetair."
Stuart and Michael climbed into the car. "My words are sweet, but I'm sweeter?" Stuart repeated to himself out loud, "What does that even mean?"
"Close the door," Michael said, squeezing the wheel as tight as he could. His body was shaking as he pulled out of the driveway and sped down the hill.
"I'm sweeter?" Stuart said again, "I don't know Harvey... or Michael, that family's a bit off."
"Why are you here?" Michael said aggressively, swerving the car around the first bend.
Stuart lifted both hands towards Michael in surrender, "Are you alright? You need to calm down," Stuart said.
"I am not alright, I am not ok! I saw two men get murdered, I've been drugged twice. I cried twice this morning, my left arm has been throbbing, from whatever operation was done on me, I came here to break off my engagement, and I find you. Why are you here?" Michael turned to Stuart. His face was flushed, his chin was quivering.
"They drugged you twice?" Stuart replied, "Should you be driving?."
"Why are you here!" Michael yelled.
"So, how did they get you to sign?" Stuart responded. "For me, it was student loans, promised they'd pay them off. I mean, they did, but they didn't tell me all the other stuff."
"What are you talking about!" Michael continued shouting.
"Calm down, let's talk at a normal level. Two lights, then make a right." Stuart talked nonchalantly.
"You threatened Mimsy," Michael said.
"I?—I?" Stuart scoffed, "I most certainly did not. Was that yesterday?" Stuart asked.
"Don't act like you don't know." His voice flustered.
"I have nothing to do with recruitment. That's well above me. They wouldn't trust floor workers with that."
"There was a picture and everything. Said if I told anybody what was going on, they'd kill her." Michael's grip loosened on the wheel. The pain in his arm ached from his fingertips to his shoulders.
"My first day, they had photos of both my mom and dad. They said to chose which one should die. And if I didn't choose, they both would." Stuart looked out the window. "They didn't do it. It's meant to intimidate, and it does exactly that. Nobody wants to be here, but there's no choice," Stuart replied, "Left in half a mile."
"What does The Company do?" Michael wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
Stuart gave him a questioning look trying to figure out whether it was a serious question. "It's a nationwide killing network."
Michael's foot thumped the gas causing the wheels to spin out for a moment. He hoped it was a terrible joke, but after everything he'd seen, he believed it was true. "You're a hitman?"
Stuart let out a laugh, "No, no, they're separate. I'm with central support."
"Why are you here? What does this have to do with me? I don't want to be a part of this. I didn't sign up for anything. I won't tell the police I won't tell anyone. I'm not—"
"Woah, woah, you act like I can do anything. I'm nobody. I have zero say in any of it. I have zero power in any of it. I've been following you from a distance. Now they've instructed me to follow you up close and report on the people around you. Those are my only orders."
"I don't want you here."
"No offense, you're a little less intimidating than them. That family needs to believe I'm your brother. If they find out about The Company, I'm sure they'll get a hit put on them. Do you understand me?"
Michael hesitated but nodded. "Why me, though?" He asked as Stuart signaled to turn. Michael pulled into an outdoor shopping center parking lot. "Why am I here?"
"I don't know," Stuart answered. After seeing Michael's unconvinced look, he added, "Normally they target people with close family connections. You're different, though."
"How so?" Michael asked as he pulled into an empty spot at Victor's marked location.
"The Company does not know the identities of the hitmen it employs. I was told to follow you under the assumption you were a hitman under the alias Harvey Sinclair. In my report I wrote down there was no possibility you were Mr. Sinclair, but then you showed up at the resort—"
"The Company's trying to identify their hitmen? To send them on vacations?"
"No, just Harvey Sinclair."
"Why?"
"The Company held a competition. A list of one hundred names to a group of top hitmen. Whoever crossed off the most names would have the opportunity to become The Company's personal hitman. There were a decent amount of perks, including cars, housing, lavish living. There was a memo that if they didn't have an interest, they did not need to participate." Stuart stopped a moment to catch his breath. "It made no sense to me since we can just order an anonymous hitman to do our work, but the competition came directly from Mr. Morton. Mr. Sinclair killed thirteen people on the list before anyone else had killed two. That's when I was assigned to you."
Michael sat, twiddling his thumbs. He had so many questions to ask that he didn't know where to start. None of this made sense. "Why did The Company think I was a hitman? There's nothing in my life that even remotely hints I should be suspected."
"That's what I wrote in my report as well. You are indeed one of the most boring individuals I have ever met." Stuart smirked, "I'm guessing it had nothing to do with you."
"Well, they didn't just pull my name from a hat." Maybe Harvey Sinclair was someone that resembled him. He did have a somewhat familiar face. Was it someone from the school? Michael tried to think through the faculty of any individuals that seemed a bit off only to find that most of his coworkers fit the description.
"If I had to guess, I'd say it was the Bissetts," Stuart spoke, looking out the window.
"There's no chance," Michael hesitantly replied.
"There's something off about that family. I'm not certain, it's just a hunch."
Michael tried to retrace the events to see if anything pointed to the Bissetts. Victor claimed to of called him several times while he was on the trip. Could it have been to inquire about The Company? Possibly, but constant phone calls were not an unusual behavior from Victor on standard days. At the resort, nothing there had pointed towards the family. Nothing at Gary's office pointed towards the Bissetts.
Michael sat up in his seat, "The raffle."
"What?" Stuart turned towards him.
"Victor made me buy tickets to the raffle that started this."
A ringing broke the silence. Stuart handed the phone to Michael. "Speak of the devil."