Shiver on the Sky

by David Haywood Young

Chapter Fourteen

  (Tuesday Morning—Owen)

  Owen parked in a “Visitor” spot outside CyberLook’s new offices. The company had relocated to the third floor of a four-story concrete building. They’d needed the additional elbow room for their expanded staff, but Owen had been fond of the funky old warehouse he and Danny had originally set up shop in. It had been only halfheartedly converted to office space, but it had character. The new building was blandly tepid. And dull. Boring, too. Probably they didn’t throw wild parties anymore.

  Although Owen had approved floor plans and negotiated the lease for the new building just before leaving CyberLook, coming here made him faintly uneasy. It was almost a familiar place, but a familiar place seen through a funhouse mirror. The nagging sense of unreality intensified when he was asked to show his ID before being announced. Even six months ago he would have wandered in to be greeted with smiles and backslaps.

  He’d finally realized, after a night’s sleep and three cups of coffee, that it made no sense to borrow Martina’s car. She’d agreed to loan it to him the night before when he’d pointed out that too many people, from Viktor Bentley’s thugs to Andrea and her mysterious teenager, had seen him driving Carl’s Oldsmobile. He would probably follow Andrea, at least, later in the day—and there was no reason to be obvious about it.

  But anyone could use a car’s license plate to track down its owner online these days. Maybe he was being overly cautious…but he could afford a rental, and it was cheap insurance.

  And Andrea would recognize Martina’s car. Owen decided he shouldn’t try to think without caffeine.

  They’d left Shadow in Martina’s back yard, ignoring his mournful looks. Well, Owen had ignored them. Martina had fed him bacon—first some of the cooked pieces Owen had planned to eat himself, then a sizable chunk of raw meat. Owen had stopped to buy dog food for Shadow the night before, but it didn’t seem to be needed. Fortunately, Martina had stepped in to save Owen from all the fats and cholesterol—and to take care of Shadow too. Somebody needed to.

  Owen gave Frank Serno’s name when asked who he was visiting. He had a pretext ready, and anyway Serno was the most likely person to actually be in the office at eight-thirty in the morning.

  When Owen finally got past the receptionist, Serno smarmed behind a newly-installed door, which blocked what had been an open hallway when Owen had last visited. Serno’s unconvincing smile was surprising, not so much by its presence as by the evidence of dental work.

  Serno had always had a rabbity look to him, with a gap between his large front teeth, but the gap had been closed. Owen looked more closely. The teeth seemed smaller, too. How had they done that?

  “Hey Frank,” he said. “Nametags now?” He pointed to Serno’s, with his name and “CFO” in large letters, and to the “Guest” badge he’d been asked to wear when in the offices.

  Serno sighed. “Lots of changes, Owen. Come on back, we’ll grab a conference room.”

  Owen followed him past the programmers’ bullpen and the area previously reserved for the sales team’s cubicles, which had been converted to an open meeting area. There were several free-standing whiteboards scattered about.

  Owen glanced at their contents as he passed. Some major new project seemed to be in the works. Part of one drawing looked as if it dealt with some satellite-based communication software ideas Owen and his team had been playing with before he left, but there were changes. He couldn’t interpret the diagrams and acronyms on the other whiteboards at all.

  Serno had a keycard hanging from a plastic reel on his belt. He pressed the card to a pad installed next to a door and let it go. The reel whirred and the keycard snapped home. After a moment the lock clunked loudly, and Serno opened the door. Did that hefty wallop cost extra? Maybe it would impress potential investors….

  Serno peered inside, then waved for Owen to follow him in. “Good time of day for you to drop by,” he said. “Most of the programmers don’t show up till ten at the earliest. We probably need to do something about that, but at least the conference rooms are empty in the mornings.”

  Typical bean-counter reaction. Sure, the programmers didn’t show up until ten, or maybe even noon—but they were also likely to be working past midnight when they needed to. Serno, who would be on his way home by four-thirty at the latest, just didn’t get it. For him, the appearance of productivity outweighed actual results.

  That sort of thing had always bothered Owen, and he found himself tensing to continue the old argument. But Serno would never change. Also, Serno was the CFO. Owen told himself the Chief Financial Officer wouldn’t be likely to get his way in something so far removed from his training and experience. And Owen wasn’t here to argue with him, anyway.

  The walls of the conference room were covered with whiteboards, but these had been wiped clean. Owen sat across a cherry-wood table from Serno, who was busily picking at a splotch of mustard on his blaze-orange tie.

  “Hungry?” Owen asked.

  Serno gave him a faintly startled look, then glanced down and laughed. “No, just hoping my wife doesn’t kill me.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Bear with me, Owen. I’m a little shaken up here. I’ve had to handle the office, and if I think about what’s going to happen to the company I start to get a little jittery.” He smoothed his tie and leaned forward. “I just can’t believe he’s dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Oh, Jesus, you didn’t know? They found Junior’s body yesterday morning. The police were here asking questions in the afternoon, and they wanted us to keep quiet about it. But it was on the ten o’clock news last night, so I guess someone talked.”

  Owen swallowed. “Ah…any other bodies?”

  “What?” Serno looked at him strangely. “No, not as far as I know. Why?”

  Owen cleared his throat, annoyed with himself. Gordon had been looking for Shawna last night. So he must have thought she was still alive.

  “Oh!” Serno said. “That’s right, you used to go out with Shawna.” He looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Owen, I thought you knew. It’s been all over the news this morning too.”

  Owen breathed carefully. He was surprised by a sudden pang of loss at Junior’s death. Junior had actually been a pretty good guy. They’d just gone in different directions…or sometimes the same direction, when there was only room for one of them. But it was too late now to change anything.

  “Where’s Danny?” Owen asked.

  “Here. He was incommunicado out on Goose Island over the weekend. Some sort of fishing trip with a couple of his sales guys, I think. He got back late on Sunday, but he was dealing with…with some of our new customers, so he didn’t have time to be here yesterday. I had to handle everybody’s questions. And you know me, Owen. I’m not all that great with people.”

  Owen shrugged. He felt no urge to argue with Serno, or reassure him. Serno was an acquired taste at best. Good at his job, but in Owen’s opinion he should be kept locked in his office during the working day. The only even vaguely social activity he’d ever heard of Serno participating in was martial arts tournaments. Apparently he did well in them, judging from the trophies he kept in his office.

  Serno eyed him for a moment, then went on. “Danny’s got a big meeting scheduled in an hour or so. You’re welcome to hang around and attend, but I don’t know if he’ll have much time to talk to you one-on-one.”

  “That’s okay. I just wondered. I’m mostly here to see what you can tell me about the effect Junior’s disappearance—death, I guess, now—is going to have on this place. From a business perspective,” he added when he saw Serno about to demur, “not so much how it will affect morale. Though I guess that’s related.”

  Serno wet his lips, looking away. “That’s the thing, Owen. I really can’t tell you.”

  “Okay. But can you give me a rough idea of what the possibilities are?”

  “Not really. I wish I could,” he continued under Owen’s sudden stare, “but Junior played his cards pre
tty close to his vest. Some things I know about, and Danny probably knows other things, but we’re pretty much adrift right now. I’m hoping Danny learned something from our customers when he met with them yesterday, backwards as that may sound.”

  “Who are these customers, Frank?”

  Serno began fidgeting with his tie again. He dropped his eyes to the table. “Uh, that’s the thing, Owen. I can’t tell you.” He glanced up quickly, then back down. “I’d like to tell you, but I just can’t do it right now.”

  “When will you be able to tell me, Frank?”

  Serno shrugged miserably. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never. Look, Owen, I haven’t had a chance to talk to Danny yet, not really. Can you give me some time? I know you have a history here, and you own a chunk of the company, and you have a right to know. It’s just that right now things are too, well, delicate.”

  “Frank?” Owen asked.

  Serno looked up, his eyes watering.

  “Does this have anything to do with the problems we had a couple of years ago? Or is it something similar?”

  “What?” Serno pulled a filthy tissue out of his pocket and blew his nose. “Oh. No, it’s not that. I swear, Owen, that whole business was just a stupid lack of communication that got out of hand. We’ve got bigger problems than that.” He looked relieved, which Owen found interesting. “Tell you what. Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll call you as soon as I can?”

  Owen watched Serno put the tissue back in his pocket. “Oh, I’ll check back after a little bit. Meanwhile I ought to get out of your hair. Mind if I wander around, say hi to people?”

  “Uh…I’ll have to go with you. New security rules. You know, the badges and stuff. I’m not worried about you doing anything, it’s just that if I break the rules I can’t enforce them very well, so . . .”

  The Chief Financial Officer, a rule-enforcer? “Sure, Frank.” Owen stood up and smiled at him. “Follow me.” He turned and walked through the door. Serno hurried to catch up.

  Owen walked quickly. He saw Johnny Opiela, a guru programmer he’d hired earlier on, spot him and duck behind a cubicle wall. What was that about? He and Opiela had always gotten along pretty well.

  He found Danny’s office in a state of disarray. Something was up. Danny always kept things neat. Owen ignored Serno’s protests and walked right in, hoping to sneak a peek beneath the veil of “security” around the place.

  He heard a familiar laugh behind him. “Owen!” Danny said. “I’m not moved out yet. You’ll have to wait a few minutes to grab my office, you damn scavenger.”

  Owen turned, grinning. He and Danny exchanged friendly handshakes. “Scavenger? Me? Have some respect for the actually dead, you idiot.”

  He saw Serno flinch and wander away. Oh well. Political correctness was for nonessential personnel…as Johnny Opiela had once said. He’d have to figure out what was going on with Johnny before leaving. “What the hell, Danny. You moving to Junior’s office already?”

  “Yeah,” Danny said. He looked uncomfortable. “It’s ghoulish, I know, but I don’t want people around here to wonder what’s going to happen next. So I thought I’d sort of clarify it for them.”

  Sure. Move in before anybody else could, that was the ticket. “So step into your office, while it’s still yours. I have many many questions.”

  “Yeah,” Danny said. His eyes, magnified by the glasses he wore to allow him to read anything less than forty feet away, were as oddly blank as Owen remembered them. “Look, Owen, I really don’t have much time right now. And I probably can’t answer all your questions anyway.” He looked regretful. “We have a couple of NDA issues right now, and we’re also trying to figure out what to do next. Unless you want your old job back?”

  Owen laughed. “Nope. I’m just an interested part-owner. Find your grunts somewhere else.”

  “Hey, it was worth a try. Look, can you come back in a week? There’s a lot to talk about, I just have to straighten things out first.”

  “Sure. Ah…I was going to wander around, talk to people. But Serno was going to follow me, and he’s disappeared someplace.”

  “I wish he would,” Danny said. “Disappear, I mean.” He waved a hand. “But don’t quote me, and anyway I don’t really mean it. Look, I’d go with you, but I don’t have time and I’m about to call everybody in for a meeting. Can I trust you to just…well . . .”

  “Just leave?”

  “Frankly, yeah. We’re busy. You know how it is.”

  “Sure, Danny. I need you guys to make money too, you know. I’ll give you a call in a week or so.”

  “Great. Maybe we can go fishing on your boat again. It’s been a while.”

  Johnny Opiela stuck his head in. “Hey Danny,” he said in his Polish accent. “I need to talk to you about the budget for the new developers.”

  Danny violently crumpled a piece of paper. “Later, Johnny.” He tossed the paper into a trash can. “Hey, can you show Owen out?” He began scooping files out of his desk and putting them in boxes.

  “Sure, Danny,” Johnny said, sounding just like Owen had a few moments earlier. Owen looked at him. Johnny had always done impressions, but when had he picked Owen as a target? Or would it be better not to know? Johnny grinned slightly and backed out of the office.

  “Later,” Owen told Danny. Danny nodded but didn’t answer, busy with his files.

  As they walked, Johnny handed Owen a card. “Call me,” he said quietly. “I need to talk to you. Away from here.”

  Owen put it in his pocket.

  Johnny was all business when they got to the receptionist’s desk. “Hi, Steve. Mr. Tremaine here is ready to leave.” He turned to Owen. “Visitor badge goes in that bin, you sign out on this sheet. Catch you later.” He left Owen in front of the skeptical-looking receptionist. Jesus, this place had changed.

  Owen walked to his rented Focus and checked his watch. Too early to meet Martina for lunch.

  Maybe he could use the time to think. He had a feeling he hadn’t done enough of that lately.

  ***