“Mr. Montgomery. I know how it looks. Sensitive information that I had no business seeing was found on my computer.”
“Damn right it was,” Montgomery boomed. “I’m just glad Miles brought it to my attention. He happened to be in IT when Steve Poole brought your machine down.”
Miles. He had to be behind this whole thing. In the corner of her eye, Maggie could see Miles puffing up, his back practically arching under the rare strokes his father was giving him. He glanced around the room to make sure people were paying attention to him.
“Be that as it may,” Maggie said, “I assure you, I didn’t put the information on my computer. The file downloaded itself onto my desktop when I opened an attachment that was emailed to me.”
Montgomery looked at her as if she’d sprouted another head. “You’re saying it’s your computer’s fault? Your computer ate your ethics?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m saying that a virus infected my computer and downloaded the files you found.”
“If Rx had a virus, IT would have informed me.” Montgomery looked at the other men. “Anyone else catch a virus that made their computer steal corporate secrets?” No one said anything. “I didn’t think so.”
“I’m not saying it’s a company-wide problem,” Maggie said, trying to remain calm. “I think the virus was sent to my computer intentionally to make me look bad.”
As soon as it was out of her mouth, she knew how it sounded. Hi, I’m paranoid and everyone’s out to get me. Want to hear my theories about Lee Harvey Oswald?
“Well, the ‘looking bad’ part has been an unbridled success, Ms. O’Malley,” Montgomery said. “But let’s be serious. You’re not really suggesting you’ve been set up, are you?”
Maggie bristled. “All I know is that I opened a document, my computer locked up and these documents downloaded themselves onto my desktop. It seems intentional.”
Montgomery waved a hand, swatting her comment as if it were an annoying fly. “Even if your computer was infected with a virus in some sort of conspiracy against you…” He paused, smiling. “There’s still the small matter of the items that were found in your desk.” The smile widened into a grin, a red gash against greasepaint-white skin.
“My desk?” Maggie heard herself say.
Montgomery wheeled his girth away from his desk. He yanked the top drawer open and produced a small black cloth bag with game show panache. He shook the bag.
“A most interesting inventory,” he said. He opened the bag and placed the contents on his desk one at a time as if he were doling out Twinkies to fat camp kids. “Let’s see here. We have the usual office supplies, lipstick, tampons.” Maggie felt her face grow hot. “An alarming amount of over-the-counter medications and this little treasure.” He paused and shook the bag. Something clattered inside. “A whole pharmacy’s worth of Oxycodone and Valium.”
“But those aren’t mine,” Maggie cried.
“I’ve got to agree, Mr. Montgomery,” Ethan piped in. “I know Ms. O’Malley well, as does Jon.” Jon nodded his assent. “This has to be some kind of mistake. These don’t belong to her.”
Montgomery held up his hand. “It’s no mistake that Ms. O’Malley has a reputation for not being shy about self-medicating. By all reports, she’s a walking dispensary, popping pills like Tic-Tacs.”
“Pepto and Tylenol maybe,” Maggie said, “but that’s it.”
Montgomery grunted. “You’re telling me you’ve never seen these bottles?”
Maggie squared her shoulders. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
Montgomery continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “What interests me is that the drugs bear no patient identification of any kind. Like the kind you might find at a hospital or a lab. Curious, don’t you think? In fact, we’ve had some…inventory irregularities in some of our development areas lately. Missing medication. That kind of thing.”
Maggie felt her face grow hot. “Are you suggesting that I stole these drugs from Rx?” she demanded. “That doesn’t even make sense. We don’t make these medications.”
Montgomery laced his hands on his desk. “I’m not suggesting anything, Ms. O’Malley. I’m just sharing my innermost thoughts.” He hefted himself from his office chair, which groaned in relief. “I haven’t even shown you my favorite item. A veritable pièce de résistance.” Montgomery upended the bag. A small leather case tumbled out. Montgomery opened it slowly, delicately, and showed the contents to Maggie: a hypodermic needle.
“That isn’t mine, either!” Maggie’s voice teetered on the brink of hysteria. She caught Ethan’s eye. He looked sick.
“That’s what they all say. But heroin is making a comeback.”
Miles made a subtle tsk-tsk motion with his fingers.
Maggie shook with anger. She’d never hated anyone before, but by God, she hated Miles. In the ancient, reptilian part of her brain, she imagined bashing his smug face against his father’s polished desk, his nose coming away splintered and bloody. He was behind this setup. The virus. The printer. The planted drugs. He was behind it all. He wanted to destroy her the first moment they met. She could feel it in their first handshake, in the grinding of flesh against bone that crushed her fingers against her mother’s ring. She wasn’t sure why. She was just sure it was true.
“That isn’t mine,” Maggie repeated. “I’m not a liar, I’m not a spy and I’m not junkie. This is all a setup.”
James Montgomery held up a hand. “Oh, right. The conspiracy. I’d almost forgotten.”
Maggie opened her mouth, but Roy interrupted with a loud cough. He was wearing his best TV-dad face, the kind Mr. Cleaver would use when Wally or the Beav were caught doing something they shouldn’t. “Maggie,” he began carefully. “Until we get this all sorted out, we’re going to have to ask you to take a…leave of absence.”
“A leave of absence?” She could feel her fingernails digging into the palms of her hand, her heart thud heavily in her chest, a boxer ready to be let loose in the ring. “But none of this is true. I’ve done nothing wrong. It’s a big…” She stopped herself, choosing her words carefully. “A big mix-up.”
Roy continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “You don’t need to box anything up. We’re keeping everything for—” The unspoken word “evidence” shimmered in the air between them. “For…the time being. Miles here will escort you to your car.”
Maggie turned slowly to meet Miles’s gaze. His lips disappeared as the shark grin swallowed his face. His eyes were cold beneath his baseball cap. “Let’s go,” he said.
“But—” Maggie looked around the room, imploring someone, anyone, to stand up for her. To stop the madness, halt this miscarriage of justice.
Jon worried his cane, but looked away. Roy rubbed the back of his neck. Ethan seemed dazed, his mouth half-open, his eyes full of shock, concern and something else Maggie couldn’t place.
“Hang on, now,” Ethan stammered. “Isn’t this a bit extreme?”
Miles rounded on Ethan, “Extreme? Putting someone who has unauthorized information on her computer and illicit drugs in her desk on a leave of absence is extreme?”
“There’s no proof—” Ethan began.
“I’ll talk with you about your insubordinate attitude later, Mr. Clark,” Montgomery hissed. “Meanwhile, I wish you all the best, Ms. O’Malley. Goodbye and good luck.”
Chapter 26
Miles opened the office door. Maggie stood and walked into the hallway with as much dignity as she could muster. Miles grabbed her elbow to guide her along the maze of cubicles and office machines. Maggie tried to shake him off, but his grip tightened, digging into the fabric of her blouse.
“I need to stop by my desk,” Maggie said.
Miles smirked. “I’ll bet you do,” he said. He leaned in. Maggie could feel his hot breath on her ear. “But that’s not going to happen.”
>
Maggie wrenched her arm away and hurried toward the elevator, half-running, half-walking. Miles was right on her heels. She did not want to be alone in the elevator with Miles. She looked at the door to the stairwell. Or alone on the stairs with him. A stream of bile pushed into her stomach and up her throat.
“Roselyn, Zartar,” she called into the maze of cubicles.
“Shut up,” Miles hissed. He’d caught up with her and re-administered his death grip on her bicep.
“Roselyn!” Maggie called louder, keeping her eyes on Miles. “Zartar!”
Roselyn hurried around the corner, followed by Zartar, who was drinking another Diet Mountain Dew. Zartar took in Miles’s grip on Maggie’s arm, her friend’s wide eyes.
“What’s up?” Zartar asked. Her voice was calm. Her body language said she was ready for a fight.
“I’m being placed on leave and escorted from the building,” Maggie said, again wrenching her arm free. “Can you guys come with me to the parking lot to make sure—” I don’t get chopped up into tiny pieces “—my car starts?”
The women followed Maggie and Miles and the four rode the elevator to the first floor. Miles stood in front. Zartar stood behind him, making gestures about the size of Miles’s penis, how he uses his genitals in his spare time and what she wanted to do to his neck. When they reached the lobby, Miles walked the women to the glass doors, which opened automatically as if awed by his amazingness.
“Goodbye, Maggie,” he said. “I don’t think you’ll be back here, but I’m sure I’ll see you…around.” His eyes crawled over her body.
“Only in your wet dreams,” Zartar hissed. She let loose a stream of Armenian, which Maggie guessed weren’t directions to the bus station.
Miles turned to Maggie. “Remember what my dad said, Maggie. Be careful. It’s a dangerous world out there.” He strode back toward the building, kicking gravel as he went.
“What happened? Why did you get placed on leave?” Roselyn asked when he was out of earshot.
Maggie shook her head and led the women to her car. “‘On leave’ is code for ‘fired.’ And I don’t even know where to begin. I’m not sure you’ll even believe me.”
Zartar raised an eyebrow. “Try us.”
Maggie summarized yesterday’s IT fiasco and the morning’s scene in Montgomery’s office.
Roselyn put her hand to her heart, which was hidden behind a rust-colored polyester vest. “They can’t just get rid of you like this. What are you going to do? What can we do?”
“I don’t know,” Maggie admitted. “But when I do, you’ll be the first to hear.”
“One thing you need to do is be careful,” Zartar said. She looked at Maggie hard. “There are a lot of bad people out there.”
Maggie reached out and grabbed Zartar’s hand, then pulled her in for a hug. Zartar squeezed her tightly, then broke away. “Don’t worry about me,” Maggie said.
“Who’s worrying?” Zartar reached into her lab coat, pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses and put them on. “I’m just trying to avoid having to bail your sorry ass out.”
Roselyn gave Maggie a small, shy hug. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. You’ll be back here in no time. I’ll see if I can help clean out your desk and get everything boxed up for you.”
“In alphabetical order?” Maggie asked with a wan smile, knowing Rx would let her do no such thing.
“Unless you want it by color and function.”
Maggie gave her another hug, then opened the door, slid onto the bench seat and started the engine. She cranked down the window. “See you ladies soon,” she called as she pulled slowly away. “That’s a promise.”
Zartar clicked her heels together and gave Maggie a regal salute. It was something Ethan would’ve done. The thought made her heart ache. She managed a small smile and waved.
Maggie took a side street and drove aimlessly for a few minutes, then pulled over in front of a small white bungalow at the end of a cul-de-sac. She rescued her phone from the bottom of her purse and called Constantine.
“What’s your vector, Victor?” Constantine quoted from Airplane!
Maggie could feel her throat closing up. Don’t. Don’t get emotional. Don’t lose control. Don’t think about Pop and the restaurant and your career and…
“Maggie?”
“Constantine.” Maggie’s voice cracked.
“Maggie? Are you all right?” He sounded alarmed.
Maggie swallowed hard and dug the nail of her forefinger into the cuticle of her thumb. A woman in her eighties, a dead ringer for an old saddle, or with enough moisturizer, the Marlboro Man, stared at Maggie from a flower bed near the driveway. “I’m fine,” Maggie choked out.
“Really? Because you pretty much sound like the opposite of fine.”
“I’m okay. Upset, but okay. I just got fired. Or placed on leave. Whatever.”
“Shit. Over that virus that unloaded all that stuff on your computer?”
“That was part of it.”
“Part of it? What was the rest of it? I thought you were a pharmaceutical superstar like Beaker from the Muppet Show. What was so bad they had to fire you?”
Maggie massaged her eyelids. “The drugs they found in my desk.”
“What?”
“A large stash of prescription medications. Plus a nice little heroin starter kit. All of which makes me look like a drug-using, secret-stealing, corporate-spying junkie. Not exactly promotion material.”
“Double shit.”
“You’re telling me.” She watched the woman hack at the flower bed and pull weeds with the fervor of one eradicating an alien species.
“You think the whole thing’s a setup because you know about the treatment for whatever-it’s-called? There’s also the stuff you stole out of Ethan’s man-purse. He has to know it’s gone and that you were around when it disappeared.”
“Ethan doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Right,” he scoffed. “Because you know him so well.”
Maggie felt her cheeks grow hot. She opened her mouth to retort when call waiting beeped. It was Ethan.
“Call you back,” she told Constantine, then clicked over. “Ethan?”
“Are you all right?” Ethan sounded frantic with worry.
“I’m fine. Mad, but fine.”
“When I saw Miles grab your arm to escort you out of the building…” He exhaled loudly. “I thought I was going to lose my mind. Miles didn’t…” A pause. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Zartar and Roselyn walked me to my car. Miles was his usual assface self, but that was it.”
“Maggie, things have gotten so…God, I don’t know. The computer files. The drugs in your desk…”
“I’m not a corporate mole, and those drugs aren’t mine,” Maggie said tightly.
“I know, I know. It’s all so…dammit.” The line went quiet for a moment. “Don’t worry. I’ll find out what’s going on and put a stop to it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
He cut the connection. Maggie hugged the phone to her chest. She imagined Ethan marching into Montgomery’s office, asserting her innocence, demanding she immediately be reinstated. She pictured her in his arms, sheltered, protected, listening as he explained the report in his messenger bag, his meeting with Zartar, his plan to help bring the GN cure to light…
The reverie was interrupted by the Rockford Files ring of her phone.
“What gives?” Constantine said. “You call me with the waterworks on, then hang up on me?”
“Sorry. It was Ethan, and I really needed to talk with him.”
“What did our Boy Wonder have to say?”
Maggie clenched her teeth. “God, Constantine, what is your problem with Ethan?”
“No problem,” Constantine said. “Other than I do
n’t trust him as far as I can throw him. And you’ve seen me throw stuff. We’re talking feet. Maybe inches.”
“What do you mean you don’t trust him? You don’t even know him.”
“And you do? Come on, Maggie. You’ve gone out with the guy, what, twice? And on one of those dates you discovered that he stole a secret file from your desk. I’d wager he’s also hiding intermittent flossing habits and a Howard Dean bumper sticker. Plus, he’s management, and management is probably involved in the GN cover-up and God knows what else. Face it, Maggie, you don’t really know him. And you see only what you want to see: that he’s rich, powerful and handsome.”
Maggie balled her hand into a fist and hit the steering wheel. She could feel the gardener watching her. “This is what you think of me? That I’m so shallow that all I care about are his money, power and looks?”
“And his rugby trophies. I’m sure he has some scattered artfully around his office.”
Maggie’s temper flared. “You know what? Forget it. I know Ethan, you don’t. So don’t worry about him, or me, for that matter. I can take care of myself.” She was holding the phone so hard her fingers cramped. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Maggie dropped the phone in her lap and burst into tears. She sat crying in her car until the elderly woman had freed her flowerbeds from botanical insurgents. The shadows grew tall and gangly.
Maggie wiped her eyes, popped open the glove box, liberated a bottle of ibuprofen and swallowed two pills without water. She closed her eyes. Remembered Montgomery’s accusations of drug abuse. Saw the hypodermic needle in her mind’s eye. With a sigh, Maggie started her car and pulled into the lane, unsure where she should go.
Her apartment was the most obvious choice. She made her way there slowly, her mind buzzing with the words of their argument, her heart aching over the pain she’d caused and the hurt she felt.
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