Father Byansk

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

A cousin comes to a fraudulent Minnesotan priest for help.

Father Byansk looked up. He saw on of his parishioners walking toward him, with his head bowed. “Hullo, you! Hurry up!” He said, getting up from his chair. The man lifted his head and Byansk saw it was his cousin, fresh back from his job in New York City as a banker. “Ah, you’re here. Come down to the basement with me and we’ll have a bottle of wine while you tell me all that goes on outside Bjornsk.”
“Well, you’re certainly doing well for yourself,” he slurred, “I’m surprised you haven’t been caught by the Minnesotan police yet, after all, this is a big con.”
“Shh! Don’t say that here! Who knows who could be listening!”
“Don’t worry about it, John, everyone in town is at the Cold Eyed Peas concert, none are here. But, that’s not why I came. I came because you are the only person who can help me with this.”
“Well, what’s your trouble?” Henry flashed a letter, touching it as if it were on fire. “Lemme read that.” The letter said:
Henry Jones,
I have had a hard time finding you. If you wish to survive now you will have to pay 3 million more by next Wednesday or I will kill you like I killed your boss. You have no idea what I can use to my advantage in this case. Remember, 150 million by tomorrow, and the last threats stand, so don’t go to the police. D’accord?
The Frenchman
“So you see what I’m up against? I can’t get 150 million by Wednesday!”
“Don’t worry, I know how to handle this.”
“It’s simple. What you did was change your name, right? What you forgot not to do was pick up your severance package on the top floor. When you did that, he, who must work inside the company, saw you.”
“No, that couldn’t have been it. You see, no one who works for the company saw me.”
“Then how did you pick up your severance package?”
“I… err…”
“I see. You got it from the secretary you have been sleeping with. Evidently, she’s the Frenchman who has been threatening you, or at least an accomplice.”
“Sarah? No, never! Dear God, if she is the Frenchman who’s been threatening me, I’ll kill myself!”
“Suicide is a sin, you’ll go to Hell for it.”
“I believe impersonating a priest is also a sin, Byansk. Or, should I say Freidrich?”
“I told you to be quiet about that!”
“And what did I tell you?”
“I’m trying to solve you problem! As I was saying, she may only be an accomplice, or threatened into getting this information on you. The possibilities are endless.”
“I don’t have time for games, who is he?”
“Based on what you have told me, he is Sarah’s uncle, the CEO of your company.”
“The CEO? Mr. Slasbourg? Preposterous.”
“Allow me to finish. He has one of the access keys to the central mainframe, yes?” He nodded. “Then, he accessed the mainframe, killed your boss, and is now threatening you because you know about his key, which was the only way he could kill your boss. When you went on the run, he got Sarah to place a tracker on you. Thankfully for you, it was shorted out when you walked through the doors, as the system took it for a cell phone.”
He left. I sat down in the confessional, and prepared my next sermon on the evils of pedophilia and living in sin.

Submitted: March 07, 2010

© Copyright 2021 Cedric Tucher. All rights reserved.

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