Lucky Charm

by Valerie Douglas

  A cold chill settled deep in the pit of Genardi’s stomach. “Our information was that he was only some kind of glorified accountant.”

  “You settled for that. He’s a great deal more. Now you tell me that after weeks of concerted effort to breach our security, he’s suddenly stopped?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Genardi said, “He couldn’t go on forever, I thought he’d given up.”

  “It seems unlikely, given his tenacity so far,” the other said. “Your own reports say Parkhurst was a friend. Perhaps he’s merely found a way in.”

  “No one has seen him or heard from him since his attempt in Birmingham,” Genardi said.

  “When the O’Donnell woman helped him leave the building. Perhaps she’s helping him enter.”

  Slowly, Genardi sat up. “That’s easy enough to check. She’s scheduled to be at our Houston site come Monday.”

  “Do that please, Mr. Genardi.”

  For a minute there was silence on the other end and then suddenly the connection was severed.

  Lovell swore, virulently and inventively, for several minutes. Then he asked his secretary to contact one of his investigators and request the man come to his office.

  When the man arrived Lovell’s instructions were terse but clear.

  “Patrick, I want everything there is to know about a Matthew Morrison. He went to college with a man named William Parkhurst, an ex-employee. I need the information ASAP. Ditto for Ariel O’Donnell.”

  How the hell do you fight an enemy when you don’t know who he is? Lovell considered, irate.

  Genardi was a fool, lazy and incompetent.

  Even the most simpleminded knew enough to know thine enemy. It was the only way to defeat them. One had only to consult Sun Tzu’s the Art of War to know this. Not Genardi. He’d taken appearance for fact. Lovell wasn’t that stupid. There was more to Morrison than met the eye. Lovell wanted to know what that was. This had gone on for far too long.

  It was supposed to be simple. It had now become complicated. He should never have allowed Genardi to handle it. Or believed him when he’d said he had it under control.

  The man was a thug.

  Now Lovell would have to look into it himself and decide whether he would handle it himself as he’d handled the reporter and the SEC investigator.

  For some it was money.

  For the idealists there were accidents.

  Chapter Seventeen

  With all due apologies to the folks who lived in the city of Houston and loved it, Ariel looked around and couldn’t find much to recommend it. There might be pretty sections but none she’d seen so far. It seemed like one large suburb with some tall buildings thrown here and there and a cluster in the center. It was hot, humid and flat.

  As a precaution they stayed in a different hotel during the weekend than the one she’d originally reserved in the hope that it might take the stooges a little longer to find them again. Whichever set of them that was. At least one worked for Marathon. Who the other was, they didn’t know but it was likely Genesis.

  Meanwhile they played in the pool, talked endlessly and made love all weekend.

  To prove conspiracy they needed more than one office.

  Houston would be one of them.

  Gary Crocker, the office manager, was a big, bluff man. A little pompous, he seemed more watchful and wary than Beatrice Miller but not too concerned, leaving promptly at five.

  Getting Matthew in was as easy as in New Orleans. There was no sign yet that anyone suspected Ariel of anything.

  Here again was an old-style computer room, large, with banks and racks where computer equipment had once stood, probably an AS 400 before the newer, smaller systems had been introduced. It was a sterile room with a smell that always spoke to Ariel of electronics and dust. Much of it was used for storage of old office furniture, boxes of old paper files that had been scanned but not destroyed.

  The server was a fraction of the size of the one that once had filled the room and occupied a slot meant for something much bigger. Beside it was a large desk where two workstations sat, with keyboards and monitors for access.

  It was the voices in the outer office that warned them. Voices where none should be and they were far too close. There was no time to prepare and virtually no place for Matt to hide.

  Ariel froze, looked around and then at Matt. He nodded and moved nearly silently back among the racks. She quickly flipped her laptop mostly closed so it wouldn’t go into standby and then slid it back on the table behind the monitor. She prayed no one would see it or ask to see the screen and the files displayed there. That many files were just too much to fit on a flash drive. She quickly tucked the one she did have into her bra.

  Looking up as if she’d just noticed the approaching voices, she smiled at Gary, the office manager. The man with him she didn’t know except from the pictures Matt had shown her, but she did know he had cold eyes in a cold face. He was a little on the tall side, broad in the shoulders, with a stocky muscular body beneath his business suit.

  “Hello, Ariel,” Gary said, “this is Thomas Genardi, Vice President and Chief of Security for Marathon Corp.”

  It was clear that Gary was nervous.

  Matthew, listening from behind a bank of empty computer slots went still, crouched within the well of one of the old desks stored in the room. If they started to search, though, he’d have to consider taking the two men out.

  He hoped Ariel had her poker face on. They’d been downloading files onto her laptop. If Genardi asked to see it and knew what it was he was seeing, their chances of getting out of here unscathed were a little slim. He wished he could see.

  Smiling, Ariel held a hand out to Genardi.

  Although she had a firm handshake, Genardi had a bone-crusher. She kept herself from wincing with an effort and saw something move in his eyes, some kind of shadow. He liked using it.

  “Pleased to meet you Mr. Genardi,” she said, keeping her voice neutral.

  He was a hard-faced man, all sharp angles. His cheekbones were sharp, the flesh drawn over them tightly. Beneath a thin moustache his mouth was a slash across his face, drawn down at the corners. He seemed to have perpetually narrowed eyes, looking at everything with suspicion. Even his nose seemed pinched, as if he smelled something he didn’t like but kept smelling it whether he wanted to or not. His eyes were the color of ashes. He had thinning brown hair going to gray at the temples.

  “And you, Ms. O’Donnell,” he said, “or is it Mrs.?”

  This was Texas, his disapproval of the generic title was there, faintly, in his voice.

  “Ms.” she answered.

  Which this man knew, it was something in his eyes. At a guess, he had a full dossier on her.

  “Have you seen your friend Matthew Morrison lately?” he asked.

  Coldness threaded through her. They suspected something but they didn’t know, at least not enough to act on it. This was a trap or a test.

  She shook her head in apparent confusion.

  “I beg your pardon?” she said.

  “Never mind,” he said and waved it away. It was obvious he hadn’t expected her to admit it outright.

  Gary said, “How goes the install?”

  Her hand went up, trying to stop him from saying the words but it was too late.

  “You had to say it, didn’t you?” she said and glanced at the monitor with a sigh. “You had to jinx it.”

  She waited.

  Keep acting normally and don’t give them any more reason to suspect you, she told herself.

  She was vividly aware of Matthew somewhere in the room.

  It had been going so well and it still was.

  Then, of course, as the files scrolled, there was a glitch. She gave Gary a mock glare of reproof. She shook her head, fingers darting over the keyboard and mouse, copying a file from one location to another before she started the whole process all over again.

  “Sorry, Ariel,” Gary said, appropriately apologetic.
>
  She grinned. “No problem. It’s like saying the name of the Scottish play in a theater. Bad juju. All fixed, it should chug right on through from here.”

  With satisfaction, Gary said, “Good. Then we’ll leave you to it.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Genardi,” Ariel called as the two men walked away.

  From the corner of her eye she saw Genardi look back as Gary said, quietly, “See, what did I tell you? It’s fine.”

  Something dark moved in Genardi’s eyes again and then he looked away.

  “Are they gone yet?” Matt whispered.

  Ariel answered softly. “Wait, I haven’t heard the elevators.”

  In the near silence even the slightest sound carried.

  Then came the whir of the elevator arriving, a ding that could be heard clearly above the fans in the computer room. The whine of the elevator descending.

  They waited, listening, but there was no other sound.

  Matt stepped out of hiding as Ariel stood, gesturing him to stay. “Wait.”

  She walked out into the office, doing a quick circuit around the room to be sure they were definitely alone.

  Returning to the computer room, she was grateful to lean into Matt as he wrapped his arms around her.

  “You’re shaking,” he said.

  “That was a bit close,” she said.

  It had been.

  Once she straightened up again, Matthew sat in the chair with Ariel in his lap. “How much longer?”

  “About thirty, thirty-five minutes or so,” she answered. “The files are almost all copied.”

  He looked at her. “What did you think of Genardi?”

  For a minute Ariel hesitated, thinking about the visit and Genardi’s cold gray eyes.

  “He’s a bully, nothing more. He has one of those handshakes that crush your fingers. He does it deliberately. I think it’s a test. He wants to see who winces and who won’t.”

  By now he knew her well enough to know what had happened. “You didn’t.”

  “No, no, I didn’t. He didn’t like it.”

  Matt held her tightly. He hadn’t been able to see either man but he remembered the picture. Although you couldn’t tell as much by voice alone, there was a flatness to Genardi’s voice, a coldness that told Matt enough.

  “No, he didn’t sound like the type who would. Ariel, is there any way you can change your next appointment?”

  She thought about it. “Maybe. To the next in line. Why?”

  “The next in line after Albuquerque is Phoenix, right?”

  Ariel nodded.

  “Can you reschedule Albuquerque? I want to take you home to Phoenix,” he said.

  He’d been thinking about it for a couple of days now.

  At least there on his own ground he might be able to keep her safe or at least a little safer.

  If he could save her job for her so much the better, although that was doubtful if she helped him blow the whistle on Marathon/Genesis.

  “Matthew…”

  A kiss stopped her.

  “I want to do this. If Genardi’s looking at you, he’ll be expecting you in Albuquerque not Phoenix. All I need is three offices to establish enough of a pattern to start an investigation with the SEC, maybe even the FBI, if we can prove fraud.”

  If possible, he wanted to throw them off, buy them some time.

  Legally, Ariel had a right by contract to have a copy of the data for installation purposes. That was what had Marathon and Genesis worried. If she found something questionable, though, that should cover their activity.

  “All right, I’ll try,” Ariel said, “I can complain they aren’t adequately prepared for my arrival. Most of them haven’t been.”

  She paused, grinned wryly. “Watch Albuquerque be the only one of Marathon’s offices that is.”

  They left by the same means as the last, with Matthew riding to the cellar and Ariel riding the elevator to the first floor to enter the parking garage alone.

  It was a good thing they hadn’t taken the chance.

  Genardi waited, sitting on one of the smoker’s benches with a cigar. “Ms. O’Donnell.”

  He was curious. Although he’d read the file on her and knew her height, that straight back when she’d been sitting had made her seem taller at first. This was the woman that everyone was so concerned about. Definitely a sweet piece. Such a little thing but she hadn’t flinched, hadn’t so much as twitched when he’d shaken hands with her. That made him even more curious.

  It gave Ariel a chill to see him, although she wouldn’t let him see that.

  This man could kill, she could sense it. He had the capacity to be both cruel and mean, there was a streak of viciousness in him as wide as the stripe on a skunk’s back. He wasn’t only capable of hurting someone he would do it slowly and enjoy it.

  She nodded. “Hello again, Mr. Genardi.”

  “May I see your backpack, Ms. O’Donnell?”

  Shrugging it off and handing it to him, she said, “You’re the VP of Security, you have that right.”

  Genardi looked at it. There would be nothing there he knew because she’d handed it over too easily.

  “I won’t find anything, will I?”

  No, you won’t, Ariel thought because it would take another computer nerd to find those files. I’m good at what I do, she thought but didn’t say.

  What she did say was, “There’s nothing to find. I don’t know what it is you’re looking for.”

  Genardi handed the backpack back to her. “If you see your friend Mr. Morrison, tell him I wish him good luck.”

  It was a shot in the dark as far as Genardi was concerned as had been his comment earlier.

  She gestured helplessly. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Good night.”

  He held out his hand to her.

  Ariel took it because she had to, because it was expected and polite. He knew that and took advantage of it. He squeezed more tightly this time and held it, his eyes intent on her face. She could feel the bones in her hand grind together. This time she let him see her wince.

  “Are you sure there isn’t something you want to tell me?”

  Much better, Genardi thought, seeing her eyes widen and feeling her hand give beneath his own.

  This time Ariel winced, as the bones ground in her hand.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, “There’s nothing. I don’t know what you want.”

  Tightening his grip, Genardi looked around the parking garage.

  He saw nothing and no one. There was no sign of Matthew Morrison.

  Satisfied, he let go and walked away.

  Lovell was worried about nothing.

  Morrison had finally given up and gone home, that was all.

  Watching from the shadows, somehow it didn’t surprise Matt to find Genardi lying in wait by the exit, waiting for Ariel.

  From the moment Matt saw the man he knew how it would go, what Genardi would do.

  It took everything he had to sit by and do nothing, knowing Genardi was probably going to scare and possibly hurt her. It took every ounce of willpower to keep from getting up and pounding the shit out of the man. Which was exactly what Lovell wanted, a trap that would catch both of them, with his boys waiting nearby. Instead he watched, his jaw tight, from the cover of a pillar near the car. Not in it, in case Genardi wanted to search it.

  He watched as Genardi held out his hand and Ariel took it. He watched the tension in Genardi’s shoulders and saw Ariel flinch. Words were exchanged. Then Genardi left.

  “Are you all right?” he asked as she slid into the car beside him.

  He took her hand.

  There were red marks on it from Genardi’s grip.

  “I’m fine,” Ariel said softly and glanced back to where Genardi had been. “He likes to hurt people does Mr. Genardi. Remember what I said about some people having the capacity to kill? He does. I have to admit, Matthew, that he scares me.”

&nb
sp; Matt looked into her eyes and saw the fear there.

  He wrapped his arms around her and Ariel curled into him as if she were cold.

  Giving her a level look, Matt said, “If he stays, you go.”

  His tone was flat, he would brook no argument on this. Having seen the look of cold calculation in Genardi’s eyes, Ariel had no intention of giving him any.

  Lovell looked at Patrick. From the look on his subordinate’s face, Lovell knew he wouldn’t like what he was about to see. The reports appeared on his computer screen.

  He chose the one on Morrison first as he was the more immediate danger.

  Scrolling through the pages, he scanned them quickly, pertinent information jumping out at him.

  There were no wasted words. Patrick knew better.

  Lovell was furious.

  He hit speed dial as he forwarded a copy of the report to Genardi.

  This was a disaster.

  “Idiots,” he muttered. “Patrick, shred those files.”

  The man nodded, gathered up the hard copies and hurried out.

  “Mr. Maxwell’s office.”

  “This is Jonathan Lovell, I need an appointment to see Mr. Maxwell as soon as possible. Tell him our little problem has escalated into a very big problem.”

  “Hold on please,” the secretary said. “I’ll see if the Chairman is available to speak with you.”

  Then Maxwell’s voice was on the phone, surprising him very little. “How bad is it?”

  “Matthew Morrison is chief investigator for a private investigation company called Morrison Investigations based out of Phoenix. They specialize in corporate and industrial inquiries. He’s their primary investigator.”

  Weldon swore vividly. “Why didn’t we pick up on this sooner?”

  “My fault, I relied on Genardi’s information without knowing he hadn’t done a thorough background check.”

  There was a brief silence.

  Then Maxwell said, “We’ll contact our counterparts at Marathon and be back in touch.”