A Tale... Left of Centre

She knew she’d seen him somewhere before. The long black cloak seemed to signal something in her mind, then the sound of a sob brought her back to herself.
The man beside her was sitting on the ground sobbing into his hands. What a walkover, she thought to herself. So she picked up from where she’d been interrupted.
“And if you think I’m going to accept responsibility for this,” she gestured around her, not even taking in the damage, “you can take my number plate and stick it up your backside.” He said nothing and she grinned to herself. This is what she did best; there would be no insurance claim coming from him. She had plans for today and this wimp wasn’t going to delay them any longer than humanely possible.

She walked through the doors to the office and stopped. Where did she leave the car? Focus, she said to herself. If you blow this, it’s goodnight Vienna for yours truly. She knew the colleagues she was up against would love to see her sink without a trace after today, but she had dynamite in her folder and she wasn’t afraid to use it. Then she clapped her hands together to try and warm them up. Hang on, she thought, and did it again. If I had a folder in my hands then I wouldn’t be able to do that. Oh, damn, she sighed. It was in the car. She took a deep breath, and mouthed the word, improvise. I can do this. The elevator seemed to be stuck in the upper floors and refused to budge, no matter how many times she pressed the button.
“Is any bloody thing working in this building,” she shouted. That’s not the way forward, she chastised herself. Looking around, no-one appeared to have noticed so she crept to the stairs and started the long climb.

She felt like the White Rabbit by the time she got to the right floor. I’m late, I’m late, I’m buggered, she mouthed to herself. No, I can get through this. I’ve risen above everything that’s gone wrong today with downright aplomb. Just do it. She walked through the corridor and straight into the meeting. No-one even turned their head as she took her place at her empty chair. The usual drivel was being spouted by the usual suspects, then the focus of the meeting changed. The chairman at the head of the table looked towards her then spoke.

“All right, quieten down,” he soothed, waving an invisible toilet rug in front of him. Probably pink, she thought. “Mary Margot-Scott..,” without waiting for another beat she was out of the chair and striding towards the whiteboard with determination. Her chair was still spinning as she had leapt out of it and the room was turned towards it, completely silent. That’s what I call making an entrance. She grabbed one of the pens and squeaked her attention grabbing headline to the top of the board.
“Overzealous depreciation of assets,” she spoke to the room. I have them all, she thought. Everyone was silent and staring at her.
“Bloody hell,” said the chairman.
“I know this is something you have all talked about previously, but I have evidence that there is in fact a substantial depreciation in several departments.” She turned and drew several squares on the board and marked them with their respective letters of the alphabet. The whole room was rapted to everything she was covering. This was better than she could have hoped. “Having analysed the accounts of departments A, B and C which were…” She continued on; the odd outburst of exclamation at things she had written, but every time she turned everyone was staring with their mouths agape or expressions fixed in astonishment.
Then she heard the chairman’s voice over hers.
“What’s going on…”
She turned to answer him and saw the figure in the long, black cloak again.
“What the hell are you doing here?”, she blurted out. “Are you stalking me or something?”, she asked threateningly narrowing her eyes. “Could you call security?,” she asked the chairman in a power-flexing voice, “and have this ‘gentleman’ thrown out?”
The chairman completely ignored her; he was still staring at the whiteboard, looking stunned.
“Look, it’s really not that interesting..” she said, but stopped as the chairman stood up and reached for the whiteboard putting his hand straight through her. “Eugh,” she muttered, wrinkling her face and stepping to the side. “Keep your hands to yourself you dirty old sod,” she warned brushing herself down. But, she thought, something’s not right here, everything was as it should be, but, there was something that was being kept left of centre by her absolute focus on her meeting. She looked across at the still, dark figure as if for the first time, seeing the lack of a face on his skull. She frowned at him.
“Typical.”