The Girl Inside

by Susan Culligan

  “So Josephine, tell me, exactly what kind of predicament have you got yourself embroiled in?”

  Jo was caught off guard. “Predicament, what are you talking about?”

  “Come, come. I didn’t devote my entire life to the study of human behavior to not recognize the signs of the heroine’s quest you have taken upon yourself.”

  “Heroine’s quest? Dad, we’re not in the middle ages. Yes, I’ve probably appeared a little stressed.”

  Joseph raised his eyebrows.

  “OK, more than a little stressed.” Jo paused, weighing the pivotal nature of her next words. “The fact is that I have got myself involved in a situation. It’s to do with work and, well, it’s precarious.”

  “I see,” nodded her father.

  Part of Jo wanted to scream out that he didn’t see, that he couldn’t possibly comprehend the magnitude of the danger or the weight of the knowledge she was carrying through no volition of her own. Instead, their food arrived.

  Jo braced herself for a barrage of questions asking for the details and her internal filters were already busy deciding how much she was willing to reveal, mainly for her parents’ protection. Instead, Joseph Lavelle was pensive for some time and when the conversation was resumed, it did not appear to Jo, on the surface, to even be related.

  Placing his knife and fork down, Joseph leaned toward his daughter. “Tell me Jo, are you passionate about what you are doing? Passionate about how you are living your life?”

  Jo had no immediate reply. It was not a subject she had recently contemplated.

  “It is always important to step back from a situation, no matter how grave or pressing it seems. The situation will not ultimately define your life. Situations come and pass, even your life itself will ultimately pass. The real question is that, out of this journey, with all of its seeming dangers and trials, can you derive some absolute truth or, like most people, are you going to succumb to mediocrity? I’m talking about inner mediocrity, the kind that is separate from the outward trappings of professional or monetary success.”

  Jo was used to such conversations with her father where she felt like he was lecturing to his students, but his tone in this case was more personal, as if it was really important to him that Jo grasped what he was trying to convey.

  Jo found that the message did resonate on a profound level, without the need to confide the specifics of her situation. In essence, her father was challenging her to have the courage to take the right action, setting aside all personal fear of the outcome. In that moment, Jo’s resolve strengthened and the maze of alternative paths narrowed to a few options, all with difficult terrain that she was determined to surmount.

  Her father wasn’t finished. He refilled their glasses.

  “I also have something to confide. I have decided to return to my research and I am nearing completion on my next book on the unveiling of the mythical hero within,” he imparted with understatement that belied the significance of the announcement for the family. “You see I had to step away from the acclaim and persona, which had become both consuming and alluring. I needed to allow space for the subject I was originally passionate about to come back and find me.”

  “Why the change of heart?” asked Jo. “We had all come to think that your decision to leave the field was permanent.”

  “As it turns out, the decision to leave held the key to my return. I had become locked in a kind of intellectual paralysis where I couldn’t see the art for the mechanics that society imposed on it. And your mention of heart is apt. It was your mother who encouraged me to go there, to the heart. You know I’m not one for this new-age pseudo wisdom, but it turns out that our fields of interest are not so far apart. While I attempt to analyze the human condition, she attempts to alleviate its suffering through acceptance. She encouraged me to allow the present, to allow myself the space so that the right action would come to me, in place of this endless searching that drives it away.”

  The check arrived. Joseph conceded gracefully as his daughter stood her ground and insisted on paying.

  “The advice I received was well worth the price of the meal,” she insisted.

  Joseph took her hand, his tone serious. “Jo, your mother and I are helping you the best way we can, by being here for you. I know you have your own reasons for not telling us everything. I trust your judgment, but promise me you won’t take any risks with your own safety.”

  Jo hugged her father, but avoided making any promises she wasn’t certain she could keep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  During the course of their next furtive conversation in the corridors of Butterfly Investments, Adam revealed a strange finding to Jo. After a complete search of every company file directory, including a word search on the content of all files, he could find no reference to Project Hougoumont.

  “Are you sure you got the name right, it’s kind of odd anyway?” Adam asked.

  Jo was adamant, “Yes, I was careful to memorize it, precisely because it is so unusual.”

  “There’s something else odd,” continued Adam, “during my search it became obvious that no files at all had been created or modified by Wright or Bray in the last week or so. Also hardly any e-mails had been sent or received.”

  Jo was perplexed. “Something doesn’t make sense. During our last meeting, Bray seemed to be either taking notes, or working on files or something on his laptop almost the entire time.”

  “Do you remember what kind of laptop it was? Bray has several company ones”

  “Yes. It was an Apple MacBook.”

  “No, you’re wrong,” Adam dismissed.

  “No, I am right. My mother has the same one at home. And even if I were a complete technical idiot, there is also the not-so-subtle Apple logo on it.”

  The terseness in Jo’s voice left no doubt that a decent apology was expected. Adam duly obliged intent on pinning down the technical facts.

  “It’s just that none of Butterfly’s company computers are Macs. Bray must have provided this one himself. It’s certainly not connected to our systems.”

  Jo and Adam hardly needed to articulate their inevitable, but dangerous next move. They would have to find a means to gain access to Bray’s laptop.

  On returning to her department and glancing through Bray’s office window Jo noticed that the MacBook in question was sitting on his desk. She also gleaned from Bray’s secretary that he wasn’t expected back in the office for several hours.

  Quickly concocting a plan, Jo hurried to a nearby day spa and bought a gift certificate on which she hand wrote an expiration date of the same day.

  Back at the office, Jo approached Amanda, who appeared to be transferring business card information from a rolodex to her computer at a pace that would guarantee she would still be gainfully employed doing the same task well into the next decade.

  Jo produced the gift certificate and laid it in front of Bray’s secretary.

  “Hi Amanda, sorry to interrupt. The thing is, my Mum gave me this spa certificate as a new job present when I started, but things have been so busy I haven’t had time to use it. The bad news is that it expires today, but I have this huge report that Bray wants by the time he gets back. I’d hate to see it go to waste. Are you interested?”

  Amanda picked up the certificate with little sign of the interest Jo was hoping for.

  “I’ve never heard of this place. Besides, I’m supposed to stay at my desk to take Dr. Bray’s calls.”

  “Oh, trust me, the spa is wonderful and it’s only about five minutes away. They do great manicures.” Jo looked down to see Amanda tapping her perfect false nails with apparently freshly applied polish.

  Jo produced the spa brochure and began reading off the sales pitch, culminating in the list of services provided. Jo was beginning to despair of finding a way to penetrate Amanda’s surprisingly robust work ethic, when she saw the secretary’s interest pique at the mention of the latest in sunless tanning services. Noticing that Amanda’s comple
xion was impressively bronzed for a November in the UK, Jo increased her efforts.

  While Jo thought that the procedure, from its description, sounded rather disturbing and akin to being spray painted like a car, outwardly she enthused to the secretary about all the great things she had read about it, and how all the celebrities were raving about its results.

  At the end of the spiel, Jo could sense that the secretary was almost convinced, but not entirely. She finally opted for the surefire closing technique of flattery; a weapon often described by her father in his work as yielding far quicker results on the human disposition than any sword.

  “Look, Amanda, I always see you working so hard for the group and you probably don’t think anyone notices or appreciates it. But I do. You are so good at what you do and bring so much to this department with your great personality. Not to mention your incredible sense of style, in fact I have been meaning to ask where you shop. Anyway, you deserve this, a couple of hours to yourself. Please take it as a big thank-you from me.”

  “I don’t know. I really shouldn’t leave,” said Amanda, already reaching for her purse. “What about the phone calls?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Forward your extension to mine and I’ll make sure to pick up the calls and take messages before they go to voice mail. Bray will never know,” assured Jo. “Are there any calls he’s waiting for in particular?”

  “Yes,” said Amanda checking her notes, “he is expecting a call from a Nina Hasleet. He’s supposed to be back in time for it, but if she calls early I’m supposed to transfer it to his cell.”

  “Consider it done. If the call comes through, I’ll forward it to your desk phone and then to Bray. He’ll never suspect it’s not you doing it. And enjoy,” said Jo, ushering Amanda out of the department before the assistant could realize that Bray’s office door had been left ajar.

  Jo moved quickly. She called Adam, who promptly arrived to remove the laptop from Bray’s office. No one in the department appeared to notice his visit. MBA qualification or not, IT support tended to be viewed as part of the background.

  Jo anxiously awaited the return of Adam and the laptop. She only had to endure twenty minutes of suspense. Adam replaced the computer and arrived in Jo’s office with some spurious software to install.

  “You’re a fast mover,” admired Jo.

  “A little too fast for you, as I recall.”

  “Did you have to bring that up?” said Jo playfully pushing Adam, but with her cheeks reddening.

  Adam laughed. “After everything you’ve dragged me into, I think I’m entitled to bring anything up. Anyway, I think we both know where your interest lies.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” retorted Jo.

  “I hope you’re a better liar if you’re ever quizzed by Bray. Anyway, let’s talk about these files shall we?”

  “Yes, let’s,” said Jo, closing her office door and glad to close this topic of conversation. “What did you find?”

  Adam sat down at Jo’s computer appearing to work, while Jo went through the motions of organizing the files on her desk. Both kept their faces turned away from the glass wall and spoke in lowered voices.

  “Well I managed to access all the files within a couple of minutes,” began Adam.

  “I thought you said that only happened in the movies,” said Jo.

  “Accessing password protected files in two minutes only happens in the movies. In this case any kind of passwords were sadly lacking even to wake up his computer. Sadly for Bray, I mean. That’ll teach him to go outside the system.”

  “That seems pretty negligent on his part. Why no passwords?”

  Adam shrugged. “For a start he probably wasn’t contemplating his private laptop being stolen to download its contents, and a Cambridge professorship and millions of pounds in the bank don’t necessarily buy you common sense or basic technical know-how. Do you know how many calls I get from you professionals who have trouble locating the on switch for their computer?”

  “Fair point. So, anything interesting?”

  “I’m not sure. You may have a better idea. Here, I’ve saved all the files from Bray’s laptop on this USB key. Come around here and I’ll open them up on your screen.”

  Jo and Adam huddled over the computer, obscuring any view of the monitor from outside. Jo scanned the directories and opened up specific documents and spreadsheets. Most of them contained some reference to Project Hougoumont, although none of the information proved particularly definitive.

  Some files contained lists of companies that Jo recognized as being part of the nanotechnology sector. Jo also came across some general information on the industry, including investment pros and cons, that had been written up several days previously, confirming her suspicion that much of the work she had been assigned wasn’t required by her bosses.

  It was evident that information was being gathered for some kind of investment decision or strategy, but there was no mention of specific trades or Butterfly accounts set up to execute the plan. There were also a series of e-mails, all between Bray, Wright, Ives and Conner, each of which was brief and obscure in their subject matter.

  Adam removed the USB key and ensured that no trace of the files remained on Jo’s computer.

  Jo found that the forwarded calls for Bray were surprisingly sparse, although she surmised that the fact that Butterfly had no clients no doubt contributed to such a low volume. Bray’s tailor shop called to confirm a fitting appointment for his suit and the head of the board at a prominent art museum requested that Bray confirm his sponsorship commitment for the upcoming Modigliani exhibit. The third call was distinctly different.

  On the other end of the line was a nervous female voice.

  “Can I speak with Dr. Bray, please?”

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Bray isn’t available right now,” replied Jo in her best secretarial sing song intonation, “but I would be happy to take a message.”

  “When will he be back?”

  “According to his schedule, around six o’clock. Can he call you then?”

  “No, that was when I said I’d call, but now I have to be at home then. I don’t want him calling there.” The woman appeared to be muttering more to herself and Jo had trouble with hearing her.

  “I’m sorry. The line wasn’t clear. Did you say you’d rather leave a message?”

  “No, not really. Is there another number I can call him on? It’s really important that I speak with him today.”

  “I see. Excuse me, but I didn’t catch your name.”

  “It’s Nina. Nina Hasleet,” came the almost inaudible reply. Something about the woman’s nervousness prompted Jo to want to know more.

  “Oh, Miss Hasleet I’m just looking at the notes Dr. Bray left for me and there’s an instruction here that says if you were to call then I am to take a message.”

  “Really? His instructions to me were clear about only talking to him.”

  “Well these instructions are clear too and he only left them about an hour ago. But it’s your choice of course. I’ll just let him know you called shall I and you can try again tomorrow? Oh, I have a call on the other line coming through.”

  “Wait.” Nina hesitated a final time, but then continued. “Look, just tell him that the party is scheduled for tomorrow.”

  “Is this an event that Dr. Bray is invited to?”

  “Just give him the message. Please.” Nina hung up.

  For several minutes, Jo stared at the brief message she had written, but failed to make any connection with the name of Nina Hasleet or to the significance of a party the following day.

  When Amanda returned, Jo gave her the messages, suggesting that Amanda re-write them in her own handwriting. Amanda scanned them and stopped at the sight of Nina Hasleet’s name.

  “Didn’t you forward this to Bray’s cell?” she asked.

  “Oh, no I completely forgot. I’m sorry, there were so many.”

  Amanda stared down at the three phone message slips in
her hand.

  “I mean with my calls too. As you can see, I’d make a terrible assistant.”

  Amanda looked irritated, “Well I hope this wasn’t really important.”

  “It didn’t sound like it. I don’t think it was even business related. By the way, your tan is fantastic. You look like you just spent two weeks in Barbados.”

  “You think so?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Amanda appeared to brighten with the compliment and the fact that she had found an accomplice in covering up her afternoon’s activities. The phone message mistake seemed to be forgiven.

  Jo finished her reports on the nanotechnology firms and placed them on Bray’s desk, unconvinced that they would ever be read.

  Outside the office, Jo checked in with Amy, who was making good progress on the Whitfield Bowes files. Jo gave her the new project name, Hougoumont, and asked Amy to add it to the searches she was conducting.

  Finally Jo called Ben.

  “What’s up?” answered Ben.

  “Look, there seems to be a lot of focus at Butterfly on the nanotechnology sector right now. I just want you to keep you press radar alert for any unusual stories that might be related.”

  “Will do.” He paused. “And how are you doing?”

  “Hanging in there I suppose.”

  “Well keep hanging. One way or another, this thing has to end pretty soon.”

  “Yeah, it’s the one way or another that scares me.”

  “I’ll protect you.”

  “Thanks, I feel better.”

  And Jo found that she did.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  When Jo arrived in the office the next morning, Bray requested that she immediately accompany him to a trading floor briefing on the nanotechnology trades the firm had decided to execute.

  “And by the way,” said Bray on their walk to the floor, “you’ll be doing most of the presentation.” He handed Jo several of the reports she had put on his desk the previous day.