“No,” Gertrude said calmly in spite of the anger found in her glare. “You’ve been interviewed, and I’ve found you wanting. You’re not up to the job, young man. Put simply, I just don’t like you.”
The gentleness of the woman’s delivery was chilling. Between her menacing glare and her harsh words, she couldn’t have worked harder to hurt someone’s feelings if she tried.
“I see,” Cyrus said. His disappointment was clear, even in those two words. “You find men intimidating. I understand. But you should make that sort of thing clear for Missus Osbourne. I think it would make it much easier to find a suitable—”
“Intimidating?” Gertrude sputtered. She seemed ready to froth at the mouth with indignation. “Did you just say intimidating!”
“Yes. I’m sorry, I’ll speak up the next time,” Cyrus said with crisp, bell-like enunciation. “I apologize. I didn’t realize you were hard of hearing.”
The old woman’s eyes virtually blazed with electricity, and her pale complexion began to turn pink. When she took two steps in his direction, Cyrus noticed that she leaned upon a cane that was wrapped in the white knuckled grip of her right hand. He hadn’t seen it before because she had taken pains to keep it from his sight line once she had entered the room.
“First of all,” she snarled, “I don’t find you the least bit intimidating. Rude, intrusive, overbearing, and disrespectful—but it will take something much more threatening than you to intimidate me!” Her chin raised in the air. “In addition, I can assure you my hearing is perfectly fine, Goddammit.” That last word was muttered, as if chastising herself for Cyrus being right.
Behind the huffing form of Gertrude Waterford stood Lacy; she had a hand clamped over her mouth and was watching the acidic display in abject horror.
The silence that followed Gertrude’s outburst was almost as unsettling as the outburst itself. For the first few long moments, the old woman glared at Cyrus. She seemed intent on staring him down, as if she were some schoolyard bully. But when he returned her gaze with one that reflected neither anger nor discomfort at what had just happened, he saw her eyes finally shift and fall to the floor.
She stared at his feet for nearly thirty seconds. “I find you unsettling,” she said at last. The venom had disappeared from her voice, and she suddenly sounded very tired.
“It’s been a long time since anyone has stood up to me,” she said. Her eyes rose once more to meet his. “To be honest, I don’t know if they find my accomplishments disquieting, my age, or perhaps just my demeanor. But you’ve got backbone. Are you sure you’d be satisfied just being someone’s assistant? You seem like you’re made of sterner stuff.”
“Someone’s assistant?” Cyrus said with a curious smile. “Not on your life. But you’re hardly just someone. You’ve got four PHD’s, a Nobel Prize, and you’ve been on a first name basis with some of the greatest minds in recent history. I fully expect to get more out of working for you than you will ever get from me,” he grinned.
The old woman smiled. “I think he’s trying to schmooze me,” she said over her shoulder to Lacy.
Lacy, however, just looked back at Cyrus with her mouth agape.
“Sorry, I’ve never been a schmoozer,” Cyrus admitted. “But of all the things you just listed, I’m pretty sure you missed the real reason people find you intimating.”
Gertrude looked back at him and waited for an explanation.
Cyrus shrugged. “Well, you kind of come off like a mean old lady when you want to.”
A hearty laugh burst from Gertrude Waterford’s mouth. Cyrus saw the elderly woman’s frame rock hard on the support of her cane with the impromptu outburst, and while his first instinct was to offer her support, from what he’d just learned of the woman, she would see that as a slight.
He left her to laugh, and in a moment, she steadied herself. For the first time, a true and honest smile spread across the woman’s face. “Alright. You’re hired. But be warned—Missus Osbourne, here, may want to bear your children out of gratitude.”
She turned to Lacy, who still looked uncomfortable with all she’d just witnessed. “You’ve been very patient with an unpleasant old woman,” Gertrude said. “But I appreciate your efforts, truly. You finally found one I didn’t have to throw back.”
In an odd display of respect, and possibly support, Gertrude shook Lacy’s hand before shuffling off into the next room.
As soon as she was gone, Lacy stepped closer to Cyrus and only dared to whisper the words that were on her mind. “I don’t know how you did that, but I can’t thank you enough. I just hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
Boone’s voice echoed in Cyrus’s ear only a breath later. “You’re something else, kid. Good work. Now the real fun starts.”
Chapter 7
The Templeton Tower Building
Hennings, South Carolina
8:11 a.m.
Ashley was just pulling her crimson hair into a ponytail as she walked into the sitting room of her condo. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she was relieved that there was still time to spare. There was an online conference call scheduled for 9 a.m., which meant she had plenty of time to open up her laptop and launch Skype before the meeting began. Stopping in front of the sliding glass door on the north wall, she slid the vertical blinds aside and felt the warmth of the morning sun as the room filled with natural light. A massive floor-to-ceiling bookcase consumed the entire east wall of the open plan apartment. It stretched from the corner of the north wall and ended just short of the breakfast counter that marked the boundary of the kitchen.
Drawn by the smell of the morning’s freshly brewed coffee, the kitchen was Ashley’s next stop. She poured a cup, added two cubes of sugar and stirred the thick blend, while looking back across the apartment and out through the glass doors. It was a bright sunny morning, and she was contemplating the merits of participating in the teleconference from the patio.
There were those who would’ve harshly criticized Ashley’s lifestyle. At twenty-four years of age, she lived on the sixth floor of a high security apartment building in the middle of the city’s downtown. No close friends remained in her life, and she seldom left the apartment. Still, she was no shut-in. Working a full time job from the comfort of her own home, she was a technical editor for a company specializing in the documentation for industrial products. Basically, she was responsible for the accuracy of the documentation that was included with high-end medical and scientific research equipment. It was an ideal vocation for someone with her special needs. She could work in the privacy and seclusion of her home, consulting with professional contacts and using her laptop as a communications buffer. The web, email, Skype, and instant messenger were the tools that made her work possible. As far as the people she worked with were concerned, most didn’t even know what city she lived in, let alone that she rarely left her home.
It was a beautiful day. The patio it is, Ashley decided. She collected her laptop from the table at the end of the sofa and headed outside. The moment her bare feet met the cool tile of the patio, she knew she’d made the right decision. Placing her MacBook on the wrought iron table, she walked to the edge of the balcony with coffee cup in hand.
The Templeton Tower Building wasn’t a skyscraper, by any means. But in Hennings, South Carolina, even the tallest buildings in downtown didn’t climb much higher than five floors—which basically meant that the view from her sixth floor balcony was impressive. She could look out over downtown without the rest of the city looking in on her.
Leaving her coffee on the table beside her computer, Ashley glanced at her watch once more. Deciding that she should make final preparations, she headed back inside. Her current work in progress was the literature accompanying a next generation DNA sequencer. And while she found the documentation portion of her work to be dry and boring, chances to play with cutting edge hardware like the sequencer were enough to keep things interesting. Sure, she was only proofing the technical literatur
e, but it was interesting because it hinted at what was happening on the forefront of science. While others could read all day about how something was supposed to work in theory, she immersed herself in the marrow of these high-tech devices and how they actually functioned.
Realizing that today’s conference call was a video Skype, Ashley stepped in front of a mirror to give herself a critical glance. It wasn’t often that she had to worry about making herself presentable, but certain situations were an exception. Not that she was dressed much different most days. On a typical day she donned t-shirt and jeans, or perhaps a sweater depending on the weather. Today it was a dark blouse and matching slacks—and bare feet as usual. She enjoyed the feel of her home’s hardwood floors beneath her naked feet. It was a sensation that never got old.
At five-foot-six, Ashley still maintained the same trim 110 pound figure that she had in her teens. Since she wasn’t one to leave the house, her daily exercise routine involved alternating between a treadmill and a stationary bike. And although she could be technically classified as a shut-in, she had a personal routine that was well suited for her lifestyle. She was always up with the sunrise for an hour-long workout and a shower before breakfast. Then, an eight-hour workday followed during the week. Weekends started the same way, but in place of work she often read or worked on one of several hobbies.
The only regular person–to-person contact she had was with her grandmother, who she saw at least a couple of times a week. Aside from her grandmother, she had only her brother. He had been unusually absent though, in recent months.
The few close friendships she’d maintained throughout school had somehow fizzled in the years since graduation. It was to be expected, she realized. It had only ever been a matter of time. She’d never had the type of friends other people did. Given her condition, it was simply impossible. On the outside she was by all rights a very attractive young woman. Had it not been for her affliction, she would’ve been the same as any other pretty twenty-something woman living in the city. But she’d never been normal. And while her grandmother called it a gift, Ashley had never considered the ability to hear the thoughts of others to be anything but a disorder.
Chapter 8
The Feedmount Building
Hennings, South Carolina
5:22 p.m.
A suit and tie was about as far from his daily wardrobe as he could get, but Cyrus had settled into a routine. His first week-and-a-half had passed without incident. With his responsibilities limited to screening phone calls and managing the few appointments which constituted Gertrude Waterford’s calendar, he was beginning to think that the security clearance requirements were in place more to appease Waterford’s ego than anything else. So far, nothing he had seen or heard warranted discretion beyond that of a garden-variety office temp.
Still, Cyrus couldn’t shake the feeling that Gertrude was continuing to vet him in some way. Certainly nothing challenging had been sent his way, and there was an undeniable feeling that he was being watched. Maybe not directly, but he knew he was being monitored—which mattered little since he had no intention of lowering his guard.
Gertrude Waterford’s office was on the third floor of the Feedmount Building in downtown Hennings, South Carolina. Though Hennings was a small city by many measures, it did manage to boast a highly regarded science and technology center that had grown to encompass the majority of five square blocks near the center of downtown. The Feedmount Building was the city’s second tallest, boasting sixteen floors.
Sitting at a wide desk immediately outside the pair of French doors that led to Waterford’s office, Cyrus could easily overhear any conversation she had on the phone. Interestingly, she seemed to prefer Internet based phone and video conferences whenever possible, choosing to use the speakers and microphone in her iMac in most cases. It worked well for him. Since she never closed the office doors, it made keeping tabs on her that much easier.
Behind him, the wide glass floor-to-ceiling window offered an amazing view of East Dacy Avenue three stories below. A great view, but a potential security issue as well. That was why Cyrus had been forced to sneak into the office on his second night as Waterford’s assistant and apply a transparent treatment to the inside of the exterior windows. The result wasn’t as good as replacing the windowpanes with fully reinforced bulletproof glass, but it was the next best thing. The treatment added support and stability to even the oversized sheets of glass and would make them impenetrable to anything short of at least the first few rounds as large as 30mm.
Still, for being a week-and-a-half into the job, Cyrus knew that Gertrude was still holding out on him. After all, her specialty was in Applied Neuroscience, and he had yet to hear of any lab or testing group. Her office was all he had seen of her operation. Such compartmentalization proved that she was a cautious, and perhaps paranoid woman. There was a good chance that he wouldn’t see where she conducted her actual experiments until he had passed some, as of yet, unspecified test. Until that time, he knew that he had to protect a woman who, one, didn’t know she was being protected; two, didn’t know she was in danger; and, three, didn’t trust him any more than she did the mailman or pizza delivery guy.
Waterford walked out of her office and stopped in front of Cyrus’s desk. Abandoning the report he’d been typing, he looked up at her expectantly. He’d heard less than usual from the woman over the course of the afternoon and her appearance at his desk was unusual. It was more typical of her to summon him.
“Did the delivery from Wenzeler Labs arrive yet?” Gertrude asked. She pulled the bifocals from her nose and proceeded to clean them with the corner of her cardigan.
“No. I ran the tracking a little while ago. According to FedEx, they are scheduled for delivery tomorrow before 11 a.m.” Cyrus could tell she had more on her mind. He had sent her the tracking update when it had come in around noon, so she already knew the status of the delivery just as well as he did.
“Alright,” she replied quietly. There was a faraway look in her eye, but it quickly passed, as she slipped the glasses back on and offered a small smile. “I’ll be having dinner with my granddaughter this evening,” she began. She looked at her wristwatch as if trying to make a decision.
“No problem,” Cyrus offered. “Where would you like me to make the reservation?”
Gertrude looked up again with question in her eyes. “Oh, no. No reservation for tonight. Actually, she will be making dinner. She asked that you join us. I’m sorry for the short notice.”
Though Cyrus did his best to hide his surprise, he must not have been successful. After their chilling introduction, Gertrude had become significantly more civil in her interactions with Cyrus. Still, he would hardly call the woman friendly. The invitation to dinner caught him entirely off-guard.
“If it’s a problem,” Gertrude began, “I could phone Ashley. I’m sure we could reschedule for another evening.”
“No,” Cyrus smiled as he rose from his chair. “No problem at all. I just hate to impose.”
“Ashley is interested in meeting you. Since we’ll be spending a great deal of time together, I think she wants to know who’s looking out for her grandmother. A little over protective, I know, but she’s a sweet girl. How could I say no?”
“Absolutely,” Cyrus stammered. “That sounds great.”
“Splendid. If it’s alright with you, we can leave right from the office. Say, six o’clock?”
Chapter 9
Hennings, South Carolina
6:09 p.m.
From her seat in the back of the Lincoln Town Car, Gertrude Waterford watched the city slip quietly past her window. Dusk was already settling over the city streets, and even rush hour wasn’t a terrible undertaking in this part of town. Plus, she had the added advantage of her office being only a few miles from her condo.
Still, the last week-and-a-half had been an inconvenience. She wasn’t accustomed to spending nearly as much time in the office, preferring to spend the majority of it at the l
ab. All the same, she knew better than to rush things. She didn’t dare bring her new assistant so deep into the fold too quickly. Certainly, all of his clearances and references had checked out. But given her past experience, it was of critical importance not to move too quickly. Even taking the boy to see her granddaughter, Ashley, was a calculated risk. But so far everything she’d seen of the young man was encouraging. Provided that he was everything he seemed to be, she should be able to take the next step and finally get back to work.
That she needed an assistant at all was a concession Gertrude had been slow in coming to terms with. While her mind was as sharp and agile as ever, her body simply wasn’t what it had once been. It seemed that the years had finally caught up with her. But having the extra hand would be a good thing, she realized, provided that her latest round of tests went as well in the trial stage as they had in the simulations.
No, she reminded herself. One thing at a time. They needed to get through dinner first. She had to be certain that young Cyrus Cooper was really the fledgling ladder climber that he appeared to be. Given his age, Gertrude couldn’t imagine him as anything else. Still, it was a strange world and, as often as not, people were not who or what they appeared. That’s where Ashley came in. If the boy was anything less than what he’d claimed, Ashley would know it in short order. Her darling granddaughter was also her secret weapon, her ace in the hole, in so many ways.
…And her single greatest accomplishment.
“Why don’t you pull over at this little place up ahead,” Gertrude said to Cyrus from the backseat. “I want to pick up a bottle of wine for tonight.”
Looking up from the steering wheel, Cyrus caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “Costello’s Market?” he clarified.
She smiled. The boy didn’t waste time or words. It was a precision she could appreciate. And he’d proven himself to have guts. She truly hoped he was on the level. “Yes, that would be perfect.”
Dangerous Minds: A Cyrus Cooper Thriller: Book One Page 6