by Roddy Wix
At some point Bart and Sally’s confrontation lost its momentum. Less than an hour later they sat side by side at a conference table and worked furiously on their laptops until the early hours of the following morning.
Their hypothesis identified Ilya and Ivan as the perpetrators and the immediate goal was to identify a connection between the twins and the exchange’s system. In time they would conduct a full forensic investigation of the events leading up to the “Flash Crash” as the media had now christened the event, but for now they would be satisfied to confirm their hypothesis.
Without thinking Sally stood on one shoe and wobbled to her right. She caught herself by putting a hand firmly on Bart’s shoulder then pulled away as though she had touched a hot stove. Removing her remaining shoe she started pacing the floor in a rectangular pattern around the table.
“I don’t bite.” Bart spoke without looking at her and she ignored his remark.
“Did you find anything in Dumb and Dumber’s files over at Fluid Dimension?”
“Nah. They’re wiped. Looks like they folded their tents.” Bart remained focused on his computer.
“Good thought.” Sally hurried back to her laptop and started working the keys at an incredible rate.
“Here!" She pointed at the screen. "They’re on their way to Paris. At least they had tickets to be. Let's see if they boarded. The passenger log says they did, but on a later flight. For some reason they flew from here to Vegas to New York before getting on a plane to Paris. They’re due to arrive soon.” She checked her watch. Meanwhile, Bart worked his own keyboard with renewed zeal.
“Hot damn! I found the little beauty!”
“The what?”
“Ivan’s Ferrari. I hacked into the security cameras at the airport. He pulled in at 4:15. Level 3, Row B.” Bart wrote the information down and grinned at Sally. “The car is in short term parking, but he went to Paris.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t use valet. He loves that thing.”
“Ivan might not be planning to come back any time soon. Maybe he saved enough cash to buy a new car? Ten new cars?”
“Are you guessing or hoping?"
Bart feigned preoccupation and ignored her.
“I think I’ll tag the location and check up on the little red Ferrari from time to time. It’s the least I can do for a colleague who had to leave his fine ride in a precarious location. I’d hate to have someone steal it.”
“Someone?” Sally got up and resumed walking her pattern around the room.
“Sure. Airport garages are notorious for high levels of theft. With a fine car like Ivan's you can't be too careful.”
“I’m sure airport security does a fine job.”
“Hey, I’m just sayin’. I’m sure Ivan would do the same for me.”
“What? Hack into the airport's security system to keep tabs on your ten year old Outback? Of course he would.” Sally laughed out loud.
“WHOA BABY! Here it is.”
“What?”
“One of Ilya’s email accounts. I think I’m in.”
“’I think I’m in?’ Bart, either you are or you aren’t. At your age you should be able to tell.” She gave a sly, suggestive laugh. For someone who hated cussing Sally’s humor tended to drift toward the gutter.
“I am definitely in!”
“That’s more like it, big boy!”
Considering their recent fight Bart could only stare at her in utter exasperation.
“Can't be this easy,” he muttered as his fingers flew over the keys.
“What?” Sally moved to a position behind Zeigler and looked over his shoulder.
“Here." Bart pointed at the screen. "Ilya sent a large file to a foreign address minutes after the market collapse started. Didn't think he'd be so sloppy.”
“Let’s not forget, we’re talking about Ilya. Sometimes he's naïve. In fact, that’s an understatement, but I’m sure we won’t find a trace of Ivan.”
“OK. I'll save this on my flash drive and we’re done. Now, what do we have here?"
Bart opened the file on his computer and was shocked. The source code appeared to be an elegant, sophisticated piece of work. He wondered if it would align with the notion Sally shared earlier. The data might take days to go through, maybe longer, but their excitement only increased.
“Did you send me a copy?” Sally sat back down at her laptop.
“Sure did, dear.”
Sally thought about firing off a snappy retort, but Bart remained absorbed and paid little attention. Sally suddenly realized she hadn’t eaten since around noon the day before.
“I’m going down to the café. Do you want anything?”
“"Please. How about a latte and a chocolate croissant, or donut or cookie or, all three? Whatever.” Again, Bart didn’t turn from his work.
“Sure. A One Step Special coming right up.”
“One Step Special?”
“Yeah, one step closer to death. How can you eat such junk?”
“How can you not?”
Sally headed out the door without responding. Bart watched through the glass office wall as she walked away. Barefoot, in her four hundred dollar dress, her cute butt twitched back and forth in a seductive way. Back and forth; the same as her personality. She was mesmerizing and maddening. “Why here? Why me?” he wondered. By the time she looked back Bart’s gaze was refocused on his notebook.
Fifteen minutes later Sally returned, but it seemed like seconds to Bart who was immersed in his work. She waltzed through the door balancing two trays.
“Here you go, sport. Your One Step Special.”
Bart's tray held a large latte, a croissant, a donut, and three chocolate chip cookies. Sally's held a salad Nicoise and a cup of green tea.
“Ah, what have we here? A healthy green salad just like mother used to make! Thank you.” Bart started to reach for the salad.
“You’re welcome, but if you touch my salad I’ll kill you a whole lot faster than the junk you eat.”
“I wouldn’t think of touching your fine salad,” Bart said with a salacious laugh.
“You're very wise, Mr. Zeigler." Or are you?
Neither one took more than a few bits before tearing back into their work.
11.
Monday