StV: Money-Back Guarantee, part two

Bernard Creswell opened the top drawer of his desk and extracted the business card that had gotten him into all of this. He considered it for a long moment, then picked up the phone on his desk. 

"Janet Hendrix, please." He hesitated, listening to the voice on the other end of the line. "Bernard Creswell. We have business that I believe she'll want to discuss." He waited again, then added: "Have her call me at this number, then. We can have this conversation either privately or publicly, but I suspect she'd prefer to keep it private... Yes, I'll be at this number all day. Thank you."

He hung up the phone and sat down behind his desk. It took a few minutes to bring his computer to life: password, confirmation code through his cell phone,  a moment for Crista to confirm from her PC that he was, in fact, in his office. Fortunately, he'd decided to leave his cell phone at home when he learned that he wouldn't be permitted to have it during the ritual. Even more fortunately, he'd never turned on its facial recognition features. If he had, he doubted he'd be able to get into it now. 

A deep sense of unreality swept over him. This couldn't possibly be his life. He couldn't possibly have been turned into some sort of plant-person Anomaly overnight. And there was no way on Earth that he'd spent two days hiding inside various trees until a bunch of high school students came along and helped him escape. And on top of all that, there was absolutely no possible way that he was somehow back in touch with Dianna Salvatore.

His phone rang, and he picked it up. "Bernard Creswell."

"Mr. Creswell," said Janet Hendrix, her voice venomous. "What is it you want from me?"

"Three things," he said, and then waited. It was, he'd found, a very effective tactic under the right circumstances.

"What three things?" she asked finally. 

"One: a full refund. I found your service unsatisfactory, and I would like my money back. Two: you will leave the kids alone. I don't care how badly they embarrassed you, you will walk away and pretend you never met them. Three: no more trying to make your Damned disappear. Give them my number and send them home, but no more hunting them. And for fuck's sake, warn people in advance that this might happen to them."

There was a very long pause. "That is unacceptable, Mr. Creswell," Janet said sharply. "You want your money back? Fine. We don't want it. But you and those kids are a danger to the Order and a blight on the new humanity."

"Ms. Hendrix," Bernard replied, "I want you to consider very carefully just how far you wish to take this. If you will do these three things, I will remain silent and see to it that the kids do as well. If you will not, I will arrange some very public interviews about my experiences with the Age of Rebirth. You will, of course, attempt to sue me for violating the terms of our NDA, and I will ensure that such legal action draws even more attention to the activities of your group. You may, of course, threaten violence -- or even attempt it -- but once this begins that too is likely to attract the sort of attention that you don't want."

There was a long, stubborn silence. 

Bernie waited. He could be stubborn too, but in this case he didn't really think it was required. It wasn't hard to wait when he'd already thought through the likely outcomes. 

"I still can't agree to that," Janet Hendrix said finally. "I'll have to consult with... I'll call you back when I have an answer."

"I'll be waiting."