Secret Acquisitions

by Raleigh Davis

  Within five seconds, everyone in the room is madly typing away at a terminal, coding like fiends.

  We’re coming for you, I promise January.

  Chapter 28

  The Corvus building is a tower of steel and glass, just like every other office building ever built in the past thirty years. But somehow this particular arrangement of gleaming metal and flashing glass puts me in mind of a coffin.

  Maybe it’s because I’m coming here to bury my company.

  I technically have fifteen minutes before I’m supposed to meet Fuchs, but I don’t wait to go in. I want this over as soon as possible. There’s no point drawing out the suffering.

  My heels click on the pavement, snip snip snip, and I’ve dressed to impress. Not the clothes Mark gave me but something he’s never seen me in before—gray tweed pencil skirt with a kick pleat, a sea-green silk tank that clings to me, and a black woolen jacket in an Edwardian cut. And my shoes are high-heeled patent leather Mary Janes, sexy and severe all at once. I look amazing.

  I feel terrible. But at least my outfit will detract from my ashen expression.

  There’s nothing in the entryway of the Corvus offices except two steel doors and a security desk. There isn’t even a sign announcing what this place is. The guards are wearing black suits with skinny ties and earpieces, like they’re Secret Service or something.

  “Miss?” one says as I approach. There’s a warning there: if you stumbled in here on accident, stumble right back out.

  “I have a meeting with Fuchs.” I don’t let him rattle me—he’s not my opponent.

  He types away at a terminal, which is set into the desk so that I can’t see it. After several long moments, there’s the whirring of a printer and then he hands over a badge, still warm from being printed. It’s got my name and my photo on it, taken when I walked into the building.

  Jesus, this place is already crazy, and I haven’t even walked inside.

  “This is coded to allow you into the conference room on the first floor,” he explains. “And only that room.”

  “And if I need to use the restroom?”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Hold it.”

  The steel doors swing open then with a thick, metallic clatter, like a bank vault opening.

  “Thanks,” I say as I walk in. He doesn’t answer.

  There are no numbers on the doors, no directory in the hallway. Just an endless corridor of closed doors. The massive doors behind me slip shut, and I can feel the HVAC repressurizing, blowing my hair up as it seals us from the outside air.

  I start to shiver although I’m fighting the chills as hard as I can. The temperature must be close to sixty, and with the HVAC blowing, it feels even colder.

  This place is awful and unwelcoming, and when Fuchs buys my company, I’ll have to work here. That’s how it works—big company buys a small company, and everyone at the small company gets cushy jobs and great stock options at big company.

  That will have to be something I negotiate for my team—buyout offers without employment offers. They’ll thank me for it, I’m sure. That’ll be the only thing they’ll be thanking me for in all this.

  I resettle my messenger bag on my shoulder and look right and left down the hall, wondering if I should start trying doors. I finally catch sight of a small, unobtrusive sign to the left: Conference Room. An arrow points me down that hall.

  When I come to the only door that’s labeled—the sign announces I’ve found the conference room—the latch snicks open as soon as I approach.

  I want to wait, to catch my breath, to give one small whimper, but if I hesitate too long, the door will lock again. I have to move forward.

  The room is as sterile as the rest of this building, cold and bare except for a long table and some chairs. In the middle of the table is a bowl of too-perfect apples, red and shiny and completely unappealing.

  Coldest of all is Fuchs’s expression as he waits at the head of the table. Next to him is his horrible assistant, Minerva Dyne, wearing a hint of a smile.

  I’m frightened of Fuchs, but I’m enraged at her. How dare she smile when I’m about to sell away all my dreams?

  So I focus on him, the better to get ahold of myself. He looks… completely normal. I’ve passed thousands of men who look exactly like him on the streets of San Francisco every day, all of them stamped with the generic programmer look.

  He stares back without saying a word. I wonder if I’m anything like what he was expecting. Or maybe he didn’t even form a mental image of me—I might not have even gotten that much consideration from him.

  I set my bag on one of the chairs, but I don’t sit down. My legs insist that I need to be ready to fly at a moment’s notice. Only, where would I go?

  Fuchs pushes a set of papers toward me with those little colored signature tags stuck everywhere inside. They’re so bright and cheery, so out of place in this austere room I do a double take.

  “Sign and everything will be taken care of.”

  I jump, because I’ve never heard his voice before. It’s as ordinary as his appearance, although I might be hearing a hint of an accent. Or maybe I’m searching too hard for something sinister about him.

  “What about Grace?”

  There’s a flicker in Minerva’s expression. There’s nothing in Fuchs’s.

  “Her employment won’t be terminated,” he says, “if you sign.”

  “And my team? They want severance packages, not employment offers.”

  Minerva sneers. “We don’t want them. Just you. And the encryption program.” When I don’t move, she goes on, “Their offers are more than generous. They’ll never have to work again.”

  “And they have their own noncompetes,” Fuchs says. “They can never work in cryptology again.”

  I take a sharp breath, but my lungs refuse to fill. I can’t do this, can’t sign and decide their futures for them. They’ll hate me forever.

  But there’s Grace and Chloe on the other side, and if don’t sign, they’ll suffer. Perhaps worse than my team would.

  “And me?” I don’t even care what happens to me, but some instinct, some last flutter of curiosity, has me asking.

  “You’ll work here. On perfecting Ultra.”

  “To what end?”

  “That’s for Corvus to decide.”

  Meaning that I’ll work on something that will never see the light of day.

  I stare at the contract. No matter what it says, I don’t have much leverage here. Not compared to what he’s holding. Still, I can’t bring myself to pick up the pen and end this.

  “My lawyer…” I gesture at the contract even though I’m stalling at this point.

  “Wouldn’t change a thing in this,” Minerva says, smooth and cold as glass.

  “Should I remind you of why you’re signing?” Fuchs asks. “Or give you more reasons to do so?”

  What, like more of the horrid video? Or some evidence that he’s currently spying on Chloe, ready to have all this blow right back at her when the video becomes public?

  I grab the pen. “You were quite convincing in our first conversation.”

  Signing a contract like this is different from signing a credit card slip. A lazy, thoughtless scrawl won’t work. No, you have to sign deliberately so they know it’s your signature and you mean it. I flip to the first sticky note where a line waits for my name. Waits for me to make this all official and ruin everything.

  Too bad I have to ruin everything to save Chloe and Grace.

  I start on January, making the loops of the J and the Y just so rather than losing them in the curves of the other letters. I pause for half a moment, inspect what I’ve done. It certainly looks official. The pen nib sinks back down, ready to start on the H. Ready to end it all.

  Just as I pull the pen into inking the first support of the H, the door bursts open.

  Several things happen at once. Fuchs squeals with rage and surprise, Minerva drops her mask and looks truly afraid, and I toss the pen as far
away from me as I can. It rolls down the length of the conference table, coming to a rest in front of Mark.

  “January.” If he can see anything in the room besides me, I can’t tell. His gaze is open, hungry, and hopeful, and it’s devouring me. “Whatever he’s told you, don’t believe it. Don’t sign. Whatever it is, we can fix it, together. You don’t need to do this.”

  Don’t believe what? My own eyes?

  Before I can answer, the rest of the Bastards come pouring in, followed by my team at Ultra. Doc, not giving a shit that we’re all in a very tense moment here, rushes over to hug me tight.

  “You should have told me,” she whispers in my ear.

  “I couldn’t,” I say miserably.

  She squeezes me again. “We’ll talk. After.”

  She then heads back to rejoin this Justice League Mark has assembled. Seeing the wall of them, resolute and steely eyed, makes my throat close. They’ve come here to save me, only this is the absolute worst thing they could have done. Fuchs isn’t going to react well to this.

  “How did you get in?” he’s demanding, his face a study in frigid rage. “I’m calling security.”

  “Don’t bother. They already know we’re here.” Mark takes a step toward me, intending to bring me close.

  I step back and shake my head. The look on his face when I do… I have to turn away so I can keep breathing.

  He might be the master deal maker, but he has no idea of the dynamite Fuchs is holding. One wrong move and we all go up in smoke.

  Fuchs has brought his rage back under control and is cold once more. “This is Miss Harris’s decision. You have no part in it.” He turns to me. “Tell them.”

  It takes a massive effort to get the words out. “This is my choice. It’s for the best.”

  “What?” Mark roars like a lion. “After what he’s done? What did he do to you? How could you do this?” His expression turns pleading. “Whatever it is, January, I don’t care. Whatever he has on you or on me—it doesn’t matter.”

  He couldn’t have chosen a better weapon to cut my heart out. I have to wrap my arms around myself to keep all my feelings from spilling out.

  “Are you accusing me of blackmail?” Fuchs is practically daring Mark to say it.

  Mark, of course, takes the bait. “You’re damn right. And I’ve got some blackmail of my own.”

  Oh no. My skin goes cold and I can’t catch my breath. What the hell is Mark talking about?

  If Mark pulls the trigger on his blackmail, Fuchs will retaliate. And Chloe’s life will be ruined all over again.

  “Wait.” I hold out my hands between them as if I might actually stop them. “Mark, please don’t do this.”

  There’s a gasp from everyone else, but Mark is silent, and his face… I think I’ve broken his heart.

  I press on. “I know what I’m doing. It’s still my company. I can do what I want.”

  I can read his face by now, as clearly as I can lines of code. He thought we were in this together, that I’d do the programming and he’d do the deal, and together we’d stop Fuchs.

  But that was when I thought he was a prince among men, above all the horrible things lesser men do.

  He’s not. He used Chloe as surely as the rest of them did. I’m all alone again, even with over a dozen people in this conference room who’ve come to save me.

  “I’ll sign,” I say to Fuchs.

  But before I can grab the pen again, Mark is talking. “If you don’t let her go, we’ll tell everyone about your housekeeper. And leak the video we have.”

  Oh God, no. I put a hand to my chest as my heart threatens to burst out of my rib cage. Fuchs is going to release his own video then, and Chloe will be hurt all over again. And Grace… Who knows what Fuchs will do to her now?

  Mark looks triumphant, thinking he’s won, that he’s outdealt Fuchs. And Fuchs…

  The rage on his face is something to behold. I’m terrified, and he hasn’t even moved a muscle. Whatever is going on with the housekeeper, it’s clearly not something he wanted anyone to ever know.

  “I’ve changed my mind.” Fuchs bites that off and spits it out. “I don’t want to buy your company—you don’t deserve my money. Instead, I’m going to bury your company and leave you penniless.”

  Everyone starts shouting, me in protest and everyone else in victory. Minerva is the only quiet one. She looks like she’s filing something away—maybe the tidbit about the housekeeper.

  Fuchs takes no notice of any of it. He presses a button under the table and a voice says, “Yes?” from the ceiling.

  “Tell Grace that she’s terminated. Escort her to the lobby and see to it that her belongings are packed and sent on to her. Do not under any circumstances allow her to access her desk or her quarters.”

  “Wait.” I lift my palm, not looking at my team or the Bastards. “We can still make a deal. Grace doesn’t need to be punished.”

  “Yes, she does.” Fuchs’s gaze rakes everyone. “You all do and you all will be.”

  Hell. Desperation jumps into my throat. “I’ll leak those documents.”

  It’s the only threat I have left, a tiny stone compared to what Fuchs will throw at me.

  “And I’ll send Grace to jail,” he says, completely unmoved. “For a very long time.”

  My shoulders slump. At least he’s not going to press charges. One minuscule win in all this mess. Except he said we had to be punished. “And the video?”

  Fuchs doesn’t answer me. Instead, he goes for the door, Minerva tripping at his heels. Without a word, he leaves.

  I get the message though. He’s going to bury my company, kick my friend out of the country, and maybe, just maybe, release that video and ruin even more lives.

  There’s dead silence in the conference room. I can tell they’re all waiting for an explanation, for me to give them some meaning here.

  But I can’t. Not right now. I can only do one thing, the thing I set out to do from the very beginning: go get Grace and take her from here.

  Chapter 29

  I can’t look at Mark.

  He’s driving us to the hotel where we’ll put Grace for the night. Grace and I are in the back seat, talking quietly together. I can still hardly believe she’s here and that things went so terribly wrong. Which I’ve said multiple times, but I say it again now.

  “I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.” I squeeze my fingers hard together as my stomach turns. The guilt is so thick in me it’s coating my tongue, sour as rotten milk.

  Grace shakes her head wearily. “I knew something like this would have to happen. I couldn’t stay there and keep working on that horrible program.”

  “We’ll figure out a way for you to stay. Mark—the Bastards know some excellent immigration lawyers.”

  “That’s right.” Mark’s gaze is hard on us, watching through the rearview mirror, so tight I can feel it even though I refuse to look up. “Don’t worry at all about that right now.”

  “Even if I can stay, I’ll never find work again. Not once Fuchs is done trashing my name.”

  I reach out for Grace’s hand. “You can work for me. At Ultra.”

  “That’s right—you started an encryption company.” She shakes her head with the hint of a smile. “I can hardly believe it.”

  “It’s true,” Mark says, the edges of his voice ragged with strain. “We’ve got a working prototype, and we’ll be presenting to the CEO of Pixio tomorrow.”

  “What?” My gaze snaps to his in the mirror. “When was that arranged?”

  “When you disappeared.” He says it smoothly enough, but it bites anyway. “I figured that Fuchs had threatened you with something, so I thought it best to move quickly on the Ultra sale to Pixio.”

  My face floods with heat as I drop my head, studying my lap.

  “So what was it?” It’s more of a demand than a request. Mark, the master of the universe, is back.

  The images from the video flood my mind, stiffen my joints. I c
an’t talk about that, not with Grace here.

  “Later,” I mumble.

  “Fine. We’ll discuss it at the office. Along with the plan for tomorrow. You know that everyone’s working their ass off for this?”

  Shit, he’s pissed at me. He has the right, because I did disappear and almost sell my company, but… he also doesn’t, because he fucked Chloe, made a video of it, possibly ruined her life in college and might do it again.

  “I didn’t arrange this meeting.” I make my voice and gaze cold, because I’m getting pissed too.

  “What the fuck is going—”

  “I want to help.” Grace cuts across Mark’s anger. “With the demonstration for tomorrow.”

  I blink at her. “No, you should get some rest. You’ve had…” I stop, because I don’t need to tell her how shitty her day has been. “We can handle it.”

  “I want to. Fuchs is trying to ruin my life—I want to help you stop him.” She shrugs. “Otherwise I’ll just spend all night watching Futurama.”

  I smile through my pain, because Grace is such a lovely person and I’ve ruined everything for her, and she still wants to help. “Great.” I swallow down some tears. “Doc could always use another debugger.”

  “Doc?”

  Oh yeah, Grace has no idea who anyone is. I spend the rest of the ride filling her in so that by the time we pull up to the Bastards’ secure building, she’s up to speed enough to bound out of the car and say, “I’ll go find Doc and get started.”

  Leaving Mark and me alone. Together.

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you? After everything we’ve shared”—his voice stumbles—“you’re going to cut me out. Again.”

  I want to. I want to tell him it will never work, that we tried and too bad, that I had the right idea in college when I rejected him…

  No. That’s a lie. That’s the easy route, which the cowardly part of my heart wants to take, not all of me.

  The rest of me wants to do the dangerous thing and finally, finally, trust him even though everything is telling me I shouldn’t.