by Jody Wallace
He ignored me, so I continued to the porch until I could almost touch the doorbell. Knowing Al, there’d been a camera trained on me from the moment I’d driven down their driveway. I took a deep breath, reached out a finger, and...
The door opened.
“Cleo, what are you doing here?” Lou stood in the foyer of Al’s house with a blue zippered money bag in her hands. Behind her, Jolene’s daughter Rachel balanced a tall stack of brightly colored tins.
“I’m here to see Al.”
“Hey girlfriend!” Rachel exclaimed, her blonde ponytail bouncing. “Want some cookies? It’s for the school’s new digital projectors. Eight bucks a tin.”
Al came out of the living room into the foyer, chewing something I assumed was a cookie. He dusted his hands. “They’re pretty good.”
“No, thank you.” A Lampey offspring had hit me up for a giant tub of cookie dough last week. I’d rather have had the premade version, but the dough fulfilled my chocolate chip quota for the month. “You ladies taking over the fundraising?”
Lou tucked the money bag under her arm. “Just this part. It’s too late for children to be running the roads.” She and Rachel exchanged a glance. “We have a few more tins to deliver. Nice doing business with you, Al.”
“Anytime.” With a genial wave, Al motioned me into the house and Lou and Rachel out of it. He shut the door with an ominous thud and locked it before he activated the security system with a series of electronic beeps. “The Lampey kids must be in year round school. Our girls don’t go back until August.”
“Are they already in bed?”
“They’re supposed to be. Tabby might still be doing the bedtime story.” He glanced up the stairs that led from the foyer to second floor. “Let’s go to my office.”
I’d been to Al’s house once for dinner. His office was their unused, but tastefully decorated, formal dining room, where a laptop, stacks of papers, boxes, gadgets, books and other paraphernalia covered the long cherry table. French doors, painted the same cappuccino and cream as the walls, separated it from the foyer while a hallway branched off to the kitchen. A glistening chandelier sparked tiny prisms all around the room.
The chandelier was off. The only light in the room was a desk lamp. Several china cabinets that matched the table lined the walls, empty of dishes but full of gizmos. Al aimed a remote at a black box on a shelf with some of his daughters’ dancing trophies. “We’re covered. Wish they’d invent a blanket I could use all the time.”
“Wouldn’t the sound drive you nuts?”
“You wouldn’t want to bring a dog around, but I can tune it out. I just can’t hear anything beyond this area when it’s on.” Al leaned against the dark, heavy table, eschewing the chairs. He was dressed in a T-shirt and shorts that resembled swim trunks, but he exuded professionalism. “What is it you need to speak with me about, Ms. Giancarlo?”
“I wanted to talk about my project.”
“You don’t have to hint. The blanket is on and the girls are upstairs.” He slid the remote into a desk organizer and gave me his full attention.
“Okay.” I took a deep breath, remaining beside the half-closed French doors in case I needed to make a quick escape. I’d put myself in too many positions lately where I felt compelled to hover near the exit. “I realized today there are a couple people I haven’t interrogated. People you wouldn’t suspect.”
Al nodded. “Four, I believe. I wondered when you’d get around to this.” He cracked his huge knuckles. Shadows fell across his face as the desk lamp guttered, and I experienced an abrupt bout of dread.
I pushed against the door, preparing to break for my car. Al moved to intercept me, so I froze like a rabbit in the headlights. This had all the makings of the stupid heroine stupidly confronting the villain and getting stupidly bashed in the head for her pains.
He wouldn’t do anything violent with his wife and kids upstairs, would he? If they really were upstairs. I had only his word as proof.
“Ask me.” He flattened his giant hand high on the door and glowered down at me.
“On second thought, this can wait until we’re all together.” I valued my skull’s integrity. If I questioned everyone while we were in the same room, the innocents would protect me from the guilty. And I’d have Samantha bring her gun.
“This is your job, Cleo.” Al poked a threatening finger at me, and then himself. “You. Ask me.”
“Are you...” I tried to swallow and speak at the same time and ended up choking. Al’s muscles bunched. His hand raised to strike.
I gasped, coughed, and stumbled away before he could get me. He gave chase. When I opened my mouth to shriek, I hacked instead. My eyes teared and I bonked into the table. Al caught up, pounding me on the back.
“You okay?” he asked. “Want a drink of water?”
Koff, koff, koff. Whack, whack, whack. His palm hurt.
“I’m fiiine,” I croaked. My heart raced like that stupid frozen rabbit.
Sliding my butt halfway onto the cluttered table, I edged away from his large, slapping hand. He loomed over me. He might be have several girl children who put barrettes in his hair and used him as a horsie, but he was one of my prime suspects. If he decided to shut me up, he could break me in half.
“D..d...did you d...do it?” I stuttered, watching his face with every ounce of bravery I didn’t possess.
His beady eyes glinted like the proverbial villain. “Do what?”
“Are you the leak?”
“No.” Al crossed his massive arms over the logo on his red T-shirt that read, “World’s Best Dad”. “I am not and have never been disloyal to YuriCorp.”
The air around his face was crystal clear, and by that I mean expensive crystal without any clouds or cracks.
I wanted to sink into the Persian rug with embarrassment and relief. And fear—because I had to ask another question. “Are you sabotaging YuriCorp’s employees or directing anyone to do so?”
“I answered that.”
“I should think it was obvious,” I said in a small voice, “that the leak and saboteur may not be the same person. Yuri told me about Psytech and Baumhauser. How could one person eavesdrop on all three companies and attack consultants? There must be some kind of ring.”
“In that case, no,” Al said. “I’m not a leak, I’m not a saboteur, and all I want is for YuriCorp to be able to return to business as usual with its employees safe on the job. I don’t want employees of the other companies hurt either.”
My knees turned to pudding. It made the rest of me wobble. “Why did you scare me?”
“To teach you a lesson.” He gently guided me to an armchair. “Sit down, Cleo. We should have had a couple sessions about data retrieval when you hired on.”
“Data retrieval. How politically correct of you.” I crumpled into the chair like a stringless puppet.
He hunkered into another chair and scooted toward me until we were almost knee to knee. Aside from briefing me on security protocol, Al and I didn’t interact on a daily basis. With the saboteur at large, his workload was intense, and I had no clear idea what it entailed.
If I’d asked him to instruct me on espionage in the first place, maybe I’d be better at it. I’d been cocky, taking everyone’s word for it, especially my own, that all I needed was my suprasense. It was a blow to realize my only skill was seeing lies. I had no innate subtlety and minimal cleverness.
I might not even be particularly insightful.
“In any game of confidence,” Al began, “test the inner circle first. It’s one of the basic rules of security. Just because we told you whom to trust doesn’t mean anything until you confirm it yourself. Especially not when you come up with zero other explanations.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Was this a test to see how long it took me to ask if you were the bad guy?”
“It’s not a test.”
“I still think it could be Trojan software or spy camera.” With my knowledge of computer security limited
to installing a firewall and using a proxy service to keep my identity private at my former blog, which hadn’t deterred YuriCorp, I figured hackers could steal anything they wanted. Wireless was endemic. Point, click, swipe.
Al gave me the same look he’d given me the fifth time I’d asked if it could be a hacker. “The leak is in the main office, and it’s a person.”
I took a stab in the dark. “Do you know who it is?”
He didn’t answer right away. “We aren’t sure.”
“What?” I yelled, fury surging. “How long have you suspected somebody? Since before I was hired?”
“Don’t wake up the kids,” he chided, straightening. “I’m not authorized to tell you.”
I gripped the arms of my chair so hard it made my knuckles ache. “I am seriously pissed off.”
“That much is clear.”
“Tell me who it is now.” I wanted to hit Al with a baseball bat or a really vicious insult. “If you don’t, I can find out.”
“Do you think you can?” He smiled. “I invite you to try.”
I was so mad I was bouncing in my seat. He had the gall to smirk at me even though he and Yuri had put me on the front lines of their supra war without giving me enough bullets. Or teaching me to shoot.
“Who is it?” I demanded. Clever, no?
No.
“I’m not authorized to tell you.”
“Is it Samantha? John? Ursula? Jolene? Sheila? Lou? Mike? Yuri? Yuri’s wife?” I rattled off a list of people, hoping for a tweak. If he said no and a mask popped up, I’d have him.
He shrugged. My inner circle had practiced circumventing my ability before they’d kidnapped me. All anyone had to do was refuse to speak. Samantha had demonstrated some aptitude, but Al’s technique put her to shame.
I rested my chin on my fist instead of resting my fist in his face. That would break my knuckles and I’d never punched anyone in my life. “Why the hell couldn’t you bring me to Nashville, say, “Ask this person if he’s a snake,” and be done with it?”
“Calm down, Cleo. We wanted to get you on staff.” Al patted my knee in a fatherly fashion. “You’re a valuable asset.”
“I could be finished sneaking around. I could be a normal consultant.” I tried to stay quiet enough to let sleeping children lie, but my voice rose as I warmed to my topic. “I wouldn’t have to pry into everyone’s life and become public enemy number one with the interviews. Why would you do this to me?”
“It’s not about you, Cleo. It’s about saving people’s lives however we can.”
“Yeah, well.” My stomach churned and my face burned as he pointed out the obvious failing in my motivation. “I’m the one on the chopping block.”
“I’m sorry for your position, but you have to understand ours.” He gestured in the vague direction of YuriCorp. “The company comes first. We can’t put one employee’s well-being ahead of the company.”
“The company would be better off if I’d solved this months ago with one simple question to your suspect.” It rankled so much that they knew who it might be and hadn’t told me. It rankled more that I hadn’t been able to find this person myself.
“Another time-honored strategy for problem-solving,” he said patiently, “is an outside source without preconceived notions.”
A dummy, in other words. I slumped into the padded armchair, my anger fading. “Once you realized I was nowhere closer to finding this person, why didn’t you drop hints?”
“You wouldn’t have searched with an open mind. We don’t believe the leak and the saboteur are the same person either. I’m proud of you for figuring that out.”
I was flattered whether I wanted to be or not. The only people in my life who’d ever been proud of me were Dan and a few of my friends, who were impressed by my ability to correctly “guess” what their date really meant when he said “I’ll call you.”
“Did Yuri tell you my theory that the leak and the saboteur might not be connected? The bad guy could be like me, getting information from YuriCorpers without their knowledge.”
“Hence the picnic.” He grinned at me, his canines prominent and his expression pleased. “You see? We needed you here to point that out. You’ve helped, Cleo.”
Al rarely smiled that broadly and I tried not to stare at his sharp teeth. “I could have done more if you hadn’t handicapped me. You’re sure you’re not evil?” I asked, though I knew he wasn’t. He was the head of security, and he knew something about this espionage stuff.
“I’m on your side. I’m also against the interviews. We shouldn’t reveal what you can do.” He steepled his fingers. “Not all positions at YuriCorp are consulting. The security branch could definitely utilize your unique skills.”
“I was hired to be a consultant.” The thought of my current occupation becoming permanent gave me a shiver that had nothing to do with the fact Al kept his thermostat set on sixty-eight. “I don’t want to do this all the time. I don’t like it.”
“It would get easier.” He leaned forward, his stare intense. “If you agree to work for me, I have influence with Yuri. The interviews don’t have to happen the way he says they do.”
What was this, a coup? Al was willing to muscle Yuri into keeping me a secret, and all I had to do was switch my job title from management consultant to security guard. I didn’t want to do the interviews, but I definitely didn’t want to be a snitch the rest of my life.
“Honestly, Al? I’d rather be a consultant, even if it means everyone finds out,” I said. “I’m not cut out for espionage.”
He shook his head. “They won’t just find out, Cleo. Once your ability goes public, you’ll get offers left and right. Yuri will, too. He’ll bump you out of regular consulting and into our exclusive branch. Half of Arlin’s assignments are exclusives.”
John had mentioned YuriCorp had patented one aspect of his suprasense but not that we had a branch for specialized tasks. I guess they’d patent...me. “Do we have a lot of exclusives?”
“Not as many as we did. Many of them are consultants, too.” He scratched his scalp through his military style buzz cut. “Adam Donning was one.”
“Oh. Gosh.” I coughed into my fist and changed the subject. “Will you come with me when I question the others?”
“No,” Al said. “Nobody’s going to hurt you, Cleo. Don’t be such a chicken.”
But I was a chicken, and chickens didn’t make good spies. The trail of feathers was a dead giveaway.
Which is exactly what I told Al. After he forced a box of cookies on me, he told me I’d better hurry up and find the weaknesses in YuriCorp’s chain of information or my bravery was going to be sorely tested.
I suspected I’d fail that test.
Chapter 17
Two Down, Hell to Go
John was due home from Atlanta next weekend. I had to interview him before I could accuse Yuri of demolishing his own company. It might be a challenge to corner John, all things considered. If he’d been the leak all this time, he had compelling reasons to avoid me that went beyond my personality.
While that possibility soothed my feminine ego, it bruised my supra one. How could I have missed that? I couldn’t imagine John, of all people, was a traitor. If it wasn’t Al or Sam and they insisted it wasn’t Yuri... Process of elimination. However, Al hadn’t said the suspect was one of the final four. For all I knew, it was somebody I’d already crossed off my list.
Or two somebodies. Or four. Dammit, I hated this job! Why couldn’t Al and Yuri just tell me the ringer? Samantha wouldn’t tell me either. Like Al, she claimed she wasn’t authorized.
Unlike Al, she didn’t ply me with cookies.
As another peace offering, Al supplied me with a print-out of which YuriCorp family members were supras and which were in the “norms who know” Registry database to study before the picnic. It had photos and everything. I’d rather have had the identity of the known leak.
My indignation ebbed and flowed like my weight. I was light every
morning, but by the end of the day, I’d gained six pounds of pissed. It made my evening Q&A sessions with my fellow employees interesting, that’s for sure. And oh joy, my friend had recovered from my zing about her crumbling relationship with downtown Bob enough to leave me a note that said, “If you don’t stop poking your nose into everyone’s business, you’ll be sorry.”
If I weren’t so worried about the fact nobody was making any headway finding the bad guys, least of all me, I’d have quit my job and disappeared to Canada or the Everglades or the Mall of America. We were all in this now, which is why it was such a crock of crap my so-called team wouldn’t give me the one single lead any of us had.
Two more weeks. Two more weeks. How was I going to find the mole in two weeks?
~ * ~
“Stay back! I don’t feel like getting poked today.” I whisked away from Beau around the tall, black-topped lab table. He brandished a needle and a short rubber tourniquet.
“That’s not what I hear.” He waggled the needle. “What exactly have you been telling people?”
I thought about the tales I’d concocted for Samantha, Ursula and Lou last Friday and blushed. Conscious of Jolene in the back office, I said, “I didn’t want people to know how lousy you are in bed, so I lied.”
Beau smiled. “Relax and let me stick you.”
“Not today, I have a headache.” I thought about fading my way out of it and decided against it. For now.
I couldn’t believe how much our back and forth the past couple days had resembled flirtation—and how similar it was to our conversations prior to Beau’s burnout. I hadn’t been consciously flirting with him, and I hated it when my subconscious ruled my behavior.
The rumors of our relationship, though, had made a difference in the traffic to the lab. There was more, people hoping to catch Beau and myself in something illicit. We were the hottest gossip item to hit the circuit my whole time here. I’d even heard that I’d demanded Beau hide his sexy magnificence so I wouldn’t have to fight off the competition.