On the Record- the Complete Collection

by Lee Winter

  Dazed, Lauren steered her wobbly legs toward the kitchen.

  Chapter 11 –

  The Red Files

  For evil geniuses, Duppy and Snakepit looked remarkably like a pair of twenty-year-olds who’d been hibernating in their parents’ basement.

  Lauren stared at one, then the other, trying to work out who’d had his first ever date under Josh’s tutelage. She gave up. They both seemed too abrasive to actually be able to converse with women. Although Duppy had no problem running his eyes over Ayers’s jean-clad ass, much to Lauren’s annoyance. She ground her teeth and shot him a warning look. He ignored her.

  Dipshit.

  Ayers sat gracefully on the striped sofa in Josh’s apartment and looked remarkably well suited to the artistic décor, which burst with colorful material swatches of every texture, sketches of Josh’s handbag designs, and framed iconic fashion magazine covers. She moved one of his more eclectic cushions, replete with gold tassels, and crossed her legs elegantly.

  Lauren sat opposite in a hand-painted armchair that looked like a mad art student had created its abstract design on a dare. She admired Ayers’s curves in pale worn jeans and starched white linen and remembered only too well how that body had felt pressed against hers.

  Breakfast earlier had been a strange affair, involving granola, fruit, and coffee, and classical music which was up just that little bit too loud to comfortably hold a conversation. Instead they’d settled for a lot of silent chewing and furtive, smoldering glances that ended the moment the other’s gaze was caught.

  During the Saab ride over, with more conversation-killing, high-decibel classics, Lauren wondered who else knew Catherine’s secret. Who had been allowed into the inner sanctum? Tad? Her parents?

  “First, we’d like you to crack this laptop so we can see what’s rattling around in the drive,” Ayers began, leaning forward to point to the My Little Pony laptop between them on the low coffee table.

  “Next…” She paused as the two young men snorted and nudged each other. “What’s so funny?” she asked as Duppy snatched up a paper clip and played with it. “I know it looks ridiculous but even so it may contain—”

  “Nah, it’s not that. My little sister’s got one of these Little Pony things, and I can tell by the weight that this one’s got way more than its original specs on board. But, see lady, you don’t need us to hack anything to get into a CD drive.”

  He leaned over the pink device, pointed to a small pinhole under the drive bay, and then pushed a now straightened paper clip in.

  “Anyone want a drink?” Josh returned from the kitchen. He looked around at the expectant faces focused on the small CD door which had popped open. “Ooh, what’d I miss?”

  Duppy pulled something small and flat out of the ejected tray and squinted at it. “Huh. What the fuck is this thing?”

  “Oh,” Lauren muttered. “Uh, Catherine, is that what I think it is?”

  “A SmartPay dongle. Yes.” She leaned forward.

  “A smart what?” Snakepit asked; he plucked it from his friend’s fingers and inspected it closely. “And why’s some random dude stashed it in his drive?”

  “You’ve just stated your mission,” Ayers said. “Find out why it matters and what else is on the computer.”

  “Hey wait up,” Duppy said, fingers feeling around. He flipped the laptop and they saw a small circle of plastic stuck to the underside of the CD tray. He peeled it off.

  Lauren studied it as Duppy held it up to the light and realized why it looked vaguely familiar. “It’s an ID chip. For that dongle. It’s been cut from a SmartPay employee pass. You slide it in the slot at the end.”

  Snakepit’s eyes lit up, and he swiped the device through the dongle. A green light came on.

  “Oh this is cool,” he grinned widely. He took the computer to a small table near the window with better light. “Hey Duppster,” he called, throwing his friend a cable, “plug me in and let’s get cracking.” He laughed, emitting a boyish braying that set Lauren’s nerves on edge.

  Were they nuts trusting their only real lead to these two?

  Ayers stiffened, and Lauren knew she wasn’t the only one having doubts.

  “Hey,” Josh whispered as he dropped between the two women and perched on the edge of his coffee table. “Stop panicking. I know they look a bit amateur, but they really know their stuff. Snakepit’s got a degree in computer science and programming from MIT.”

  Lauren did a double take at the young hacker who looked swamped by his gray Fallout: New Vegas T-shirt. “Did he graduate at fourteen or something?”

  “Close,” Josh said. “Fifteen. And Duppy’s golden on other stuff you really don’t want to know about. Like getting into and out of places he really shouldn’t.”

  The two men had accessed the laptop now, and Snakepit was feverishly tapping away in front of a screen that looked like just strings of letters and numbers to Lauren.

  “Shit!” Duppy said, thumping his friend. “Check those fucking specs out!”

  Snakepit whistled. “I’ve never seen anyone overclock a machine like this. How hasn’t he fried its brains out? Do you think he—”

  “Uh guys,” Lauren interrupted. “Can you remember it’s not how he souped it up, but why?”

  Duppy gave her a dark look, then moved on. They worked steadily, talking to each other in half sentences. Ayers headed into the kitchen to take a call. Duppy, looking like a dog with its tongue lolling out a car window, promptly swivelled to examine her ass again. Lauren contemplated tossing a few of Josh’s pointier handbags at his smarmy face. Unfortunately, she needed his eyeballs—wandering or otherwise.

  “Hey can you guys do a pizza run?” Snakepit asked without looking up. His fingers flew, focus intense. “We think better with pizza.”

  “Pizza?” Lauren repeated. “You know it’s not even ten yet?”

  There was a silence as Snakepit and Duppy turned to stare at her. She couldn’t help but notice the work had instantly stopped.

  “Okay, right, yeah.” She threw her hands up in surrender and stood. “Pizza. What type?” she asked, trying hard to tune out the voice on the phone behind her.

  Because Ayer’s husky professional voice was in no way sexy. At all.

  “Everything meat,” Snakepit grunted. “Oh and while you’re there, bring us back a shitload of peace and quiet. ’Kay?”

  Duppy snorted and high fived him. Lauren glared at their backs as she trudged to the door. Josh padded up beside her in scarlet Marc Jacobs socks. Cashmere. New.

  “Sorry about them,” he said quietly. “They’re barely house trained, let alone socially trained. I can only do so much, and they get really weird around the opposite sex. Tell you what, why don’t I call for the pizza and you two disappear for a bit? Let them get on with it.”

  “Okay but what if—” Lauren began as her gaze darted to the laptop.

  “I’ll call you if they figure out anything important, promise?”

  “Okay,” Lauren said and caught Ayers’s eye to wave her over. She nodded and lifted a one-sec finger as she finished her call.

  “Thanks, Josh.”

  “No problem. Oh by the way,” he lowered his voice even further. “I can’t help but notice you’re on a first name basis with Lady Voldemort now.” His attention went to the woman in his kitchen scribbling down a note.

  “Yeah well,” Lauren muttered as she stole another look at her, “Ayers is such a mouthful.”

  “Uh huh,” Josh said. His expression turned serious just as Ayers finished her call and headed back to the main room.

  “Look, hon, about Tad,” Josh whispered hurriedly, “Ayers is his aunt. That’s why he told me he just used her to be seen at parties and that she loved him. He thought I already knew. So it was a bit of crossed wires.”

  “Yeah, I know. She told me this morning. Sorry I ju
mped to conclusions.”

  “She told you?” Joshua watched her sharply as he opened his apartment door. “She who famously never explains herself and gives you static for breathing too loudly, told you?”

  “Yes and stop looking at me like that.” She gently slapped his bicep. “It’s no big mystery. We’ve just reached an understanding. There’re only so many insults we could dream up to hurl at each other. So we’ve plateaued on a truce.”

  “Hey! Shut the damn door! You’re letting in a draft.”

  Duppy. Lauren resisted the urge to clip the ogling little creep around the ear—with her boot.

  “We’re just leaving,” she said as pleasantly as she could muster. She moved aside to make room as Ayers joined them at the door.

  “And I heard what Joshy said about calling you later if we find anything,” Duppy hollered again. “Get a clue, you two! Don’t use your cells to say anything. You don’t know who the fuck’s listening.”

  Josh rolled his eyes. “Ooh! It’s like James Bond around here. Hey, before I forget.” He rummaged around his jacket pocket, then dropped a card into her hand. “For when you catch up with the cops for their report. Here’s who to call. And I secured your place from any opportunistic thieves. You’ll see. Bye, lovelies.”

  He glanced at them both with a thoughtful expression then waggled his fingers and closed the door behind them.

  They stared at each other and digested Duppy’s warning as the lock clunked into place.

  “You know,” Lauren said, “I’d been wondering last night how that black SUV knew exactly where we were before it started chasing us…” She petered out. Maybe it was paranoia.

  Ayers tilted her head. “The thought occurred to me as well. You told Joshua we were outside that club and gave its address. And suddenly someone appears minutes later?”

  “They can track cells these days, right?” Lauren asked, biting her lip.

  “Yes and no. There’s some basic, common detection technology that can track signals to the general area where cell towers are picking up a phone’s signals. I used to have drinks with an FBI agent who told me that the tech could get them within 165 feet.”

  “An FBI agent? What’s his name? Anyone important?”

  “Ashlee.”

  Lauren felt an unexpected flare of jealousy.

  “Just drinks,” Ayers said lightly, as if reading her mind. “She was a contact—or rather her husband was. He’s a senator’s aide. Anyway we’d been discussing the Patriot Act one night, and she explained there are also some complicated, invasive—and now terrifyingly legal—ways to be really accurate at tracking a cell phone. As in pinpoint accurate. But for those options an agency needs time, resources, and a high-value target. I doubt we’re exactly high value.”

  “But you think we’re of value enough that someone worked out roughly where we were and had someone cruise around in the vicinity and wait for more information to find us?” Lauren asked, appalled.

  “It makes sense. Because ten minutes after you said where we were, there they were.”

  Lauren shivered. “Creepy.”

  “It’s the tip of the iceberg on creepy,” Ayers said. “But that’s a Big Brother horror story for another day. As for last night, it proves that, whoever this is, they’re organized, there are clearly more than just the two men involved, and our cells can no longer be considered safe.”

  “Yeah. Hate to admit it, but cyber-asshole had a point.”

  Ayers adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “By the way, the editor just called. A press release was emailed to the Daily Sentinel, addressed to us from Governor Freeman’s office. Neil says the gist is that Freeman’s people are withdrawing the earlier press release as an administrative error.”

  “The one about the missing hundred grand? Saying they were investigating it?”

  “Yes. The one that confirms the theft took place,” Ayers said.

  “Did they say why?”

  “An intern supposedly sent it out in error.”

  Lauren laughed. “We’re expected to fall for that?”

  “I doubt they care if we do or don’t. But now we can no longer say there’s a confirmed theft of government funds, even if that’s what happened. We’ll have to prove it all ourselves.”

  “So why now?” Lauren asked. “What’s changed?”

  “That’s a good question. Maybe their internal investigators found something?” Ayers said and then frowned, staring just past Lauren’s shoulder. “Isn’t that your apartment?” She pointed.

  Lauren turned and did a double take.

  “Ah,” she said with a grin. A sign taped to the door with Josh’s loopy all caps penmanship.

  Danger—Gas leak. Enter and you will die a most horrific death.

  Lauren walked over and nudged open her busted door with her boot. She sucked in a bracing breath and glanced at Ayers. “I should check out the damage and call a locksmith.”

  Ayers hesitated, as if unsure whether she was welcome to view the aftermath. Lauren widened the door in invitation and entered.

  She looked around. Things had been tossed about, although, as Josh had noted, nothing obvious appeared to be missing. TV, stereo, books, and DVDs were all in the same place. So the thieves were either really picky or looking for something else. She caught Ayers contemplating the near-new LCD TV which hadn’t been touched, and knew she wasn’t alone in her suspicions.

  She headed into her bedroom and stopped cold as she saw the drawers had been opened, and her undergarments flung about on the floor.

  “Those bastards,” she said angrily and stalked past a startled Ayers only to return moments later with her laundry hamper. She crouched, balled up her bras and panties, and tossed them into the bag viciously. “Think they got off on it?” she growled. “Going through a woman’s private things?”

  She stood, glaring at the mess that was her sanctuary. Ayers approached silently from behind; her familiar scent startled Lauren out of her fury.

  “Hey,” she said gently. “They were professionals most likely. This was probably just a job for them. I doubt it was anything personal.”

  “Doesn’t help.” Lauren inhaled uneasily. “But thanks for trying.”

  Lauren stepped back and looked at her bed. The mattress had been flipped and sheets were half on the floor, half under it. She sighed and perched on the corner of her bed and stared morosely at the wall.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ayers lean against the doorframe as she scanned her room with her usual intensity, taking in the knickknacks, softball trophies, and a framed journalistic award she’d won back home about teaching conditions in rural schools.

  Lauren examined a dust bunny with more interest than it deserved.

  “I’d offer you something to drink,” she said, “but I ran out of coffee a week ago. I have water though.”

  “That’s fine. I’m not thirsty.”

  Ayers’s gaze eventually settled on the framed, signed poster that took pride of place on the far wall.

  “Women’s soccer?” Ayers murmured after a beat. “A bit clichéd isn’t it?”

  Lauren rolled her eyes. “You know it’s rude to invite yourself into a girl’s bedroom then critique how gay her stuff is. Especially if you’ve just kissed said girl in the gayest possible way.”

  Ayers’s cheeks reddened. “Touché.”

  The oppressive silence fell between them again. Lauren stared at the intriguing woman leaning against her door frame who was no longer meeting her gaze.

  “Does Tad know?” she asked suddenly. “About you?”

  Ayers sighed.

  “Tad and I don’t have a huge amount of common ground or in-depth discussions about anything.”

  “Well, you have one thing in common.”

  A warning glare was her only answer.

  Lauren sighed
. “Okay, you’re right, enough of the small talk. I’ll cut to the party-sized elephant in the room then. Why did you kiss me?”

  “Lauren.” Ayers sighed.

  “Don’t give me that world-weary, this-is-beneath-me crap. In case you forgot, you kissed me.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  More silence.

  Lauren shook her head. “Okay, I’ll get you started. You were explaining. Your situation. Via lips and hips. That was very innovative, by the way. Interactive.”

  Ayers regarded her coolly. “Are you done yet?”

  “Not by a long shot.” Lauren leaned back on her elbows and watched her closely. “But I do like your explanations. In case you were wondering.”

  “Well I’m very sure I’m done explaining,” she replied tersely. “Especially since everything’s just a joke to you.” She straightened as if about to leave.

  “Um Catherine?” Lauren said, forestalling her. “Thanks for telling me. Or, ah, whatever you’d call our conversation this morning.”

  Ayers affected a pained expression.

  “Sorry,” Lauren said with a wince. “I’m not trying to be a smart-ass, although I know you think I am. I mean it. Thanks for sharing. And taking a risk.”

  Ayers’s wary, hooded gaze greeted her.

  “It’s hard,” Lauren continued, willing her to see her sincerity, “in our industry. Men’s are the loudest voices. It can be difficult to cut through, get taken seriously. It’s much harder when you’re a member of two minorities. Of course I get that.

  “So to be dealing with that and running a bureau in Washington as well? A place crawling with people who love to sniff out secrets and weak spots? That’s really hard. I know you’ve gotten used to not trusting anyone. So what I meant before was thanks—thanks for trusting me with your secret. Okay?”

  Ayers had listened silently. She opened her mouth to reply when her cell lit up. Its ring pierced the room. She snapped her mouth closed, gave Lauren a small nod, and swept out to take the call.