The Next Big Thing

by Sadie Hayes

  She finally wondered whether he might keep them on his person and went back into the living room. Stuart was splayed on the couch, his right arm stretched down toward the floor and his mouth open wide. Patty looked at Amelia looking at him and the two girls giggled.

  “I think he’s got a key with him,” she whispered.

  Patty tiptoed to his side and reached carefully into his pocket, her right-hand fingers gripping his wallet while she used her left hand to pull the front of the pocket up and extract the billfold. He rustled but didn’t wake. She unfolded the wallet. The cards were carefully inserted into their slots and the bills neatly folded. The bottom credit card slot was empty, though, and she felt down inside and discovered a small memory chip. She took it out triumphantly and handed it to Amelia. “This it?”

  “Hope so!” Amelia went back into the office and inserted it into her computer.

  An Excel file opened with a list of names in one column and combinations in the other. Ted Bristol’s was 31-6-36.

  What was that for? The box had a key lock, not a code. She looked at her watch. Only fifty minutes left. She had to figure this out fast.

  She picked up the metal box labeled “Bristol” again and moved her fingers around it. At the back of the box, down in the corner, she felt a small metal door. She turned the box to get a better look, and slid the metal door open, revealing a combination lock. Of course. The traditional lock was a decoy.

  She entered the code assigned to Bristol and the box’s lid popped open, revealing a pile of compact discs and hard drives, organized quarterly and going back to the 1990s. She pulled them out and started inserting them into her laptop, starting with the most recent and downloading the data one disc at a time.

  She watched the download timer and urged it along, keeping a careful eye on the clock. She had four CDs left when she heard a groan from the front room. Her clock told her she had six minutes left. She stuck in another disk and started putting the others back in place. She was going to have to go without the last three.

  “Amelia, he’s waking up.” Patty was at the office door. “Did you get what you need?”

  “Come on!” Amelia yelled at her computer. It finished uploading the disc’s contents and she snapped it out and put it back into the box as Patty scrambled to the living room. Amelia closed her laptop and slid it back into her oversize purse, then pushed the Bristol box back into its place and hurried back out to the main room toward the front door.

  Wait! She remembered the chip right as she was turning the latch to exit. She sat her laptop down and returned to the office, finding the chip on the desk where she left it. She tiptoed back to Stuart.

  “What are you doing?” Patty whisper-yelled.

  “The chip!” Amelia said, sliding it into place in his wallet. He groaned and slung his arm across his torso, almost knocking her down as he turned onto his side.

  “Forget it,” Patty snapped. “We have to go.”

  Amelia ignored her. “I’m not letting you get in trouble for this,” she snapped back at her friend. Amelia waited a moment before going for his pocket, carefully opening it to make room for the wallet.

  His eyes snapped open and he gripped her shoulders so tight she couldn’t move her arms.

  “Oh, you’re a sneaky little thing, aren’t you, Patricia?”

  Her face went white with fear. She literally couldn’t move under his grip.

  “Wait for me to fall asleep so you can take off my pants?” He grinned greedily and pulled her head down to meet his lips.

  She pushed away with all her strength before his open mouth touched hers. She scrambled off the couch and searched the floor for her shoes. Stuart grunted from the couch, grumbling something about how he couldn’t get up.

  Amelia picked up her bag and followed Patty out to the street, letting the door slam behind them as they ran up Hawthorne to the bus stop. Neither girl exhaled until the bus doors closed, and they looked at each other in shocked triumph.

  Patty burst into laughter, her face exuberant. “Oh my God! We did it!”

  Amelia laughed helplessly, too, and without thinking pulled Patty into a hug. “Thank you so much,” she gasped.

  “No,” Patty said, “thank you—this made it all worth it.”

  They took a seat, ignoring the staring passengers. “Did you get what you need?” Patty asked.

  Amelia glanced at her computer bag, which now had the information she needed to understand Ted Bristol’s full involvement with Doreye, and how to get it back from him. “Yeah,” she said. “We’re good.”

  60

  Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

  “Open it!” Violet encouraged from her side of the table. She was wearing a sleeveless purple sheath dress and a long silver necklace. She’d made up her face and pulled her hair back in a curled ponytail. Her pink lips shimmered in the candlelight, and Adam was having a hard time focusing on anything else.

  Violet had been particularly affectionate and doting lately. They’d even finally made out, and it was awesome. She kissed like someone who really knew what she was doing, and Adam couldn’t stop thinking about taking it to the next level.

  Adam pulled the red ribbon to undo the bow on the gift she’d presented him after the waiter cleared their entrées.

  Violet took another sip of wine and her lips smiled on the edge of the glass as she kept her eyes on Adam’s reaction to her present.

  “You really shouldn’t have done this.” Adam grinned back.

  “Don’t be silly.” Violet shooed the thought away with her long, thin arm. “I’m thrilled to be the one that gets to celebrate with you.”

  They were celebrating the new Doreye update, which included a new array designed to capture and transmit user data in a simple form. Violet had supplied him with the code and the instructions, and, just like that, Adam’s revenue-generation problem was solved. The update had been submitted to Apple for their final review before releasing through the App Store, but the guys at Apple had assured Adam that, as the most popular app in history, an approval for Doreye shouldn’t take long.

  “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know.” Adam paused his unwrapping and looked Violet square in the eye. She’d made her eyes look even bigger and brighter than normal, and he stared into them purposefully, trying to capture her full attention so that she would know how much he was starting—he thought—to really love her.

  Her recent affection convinced him that her earlier withdrawing had been his doing. Last month when he felt like they weren’t going anywhere—like it was all flirting and no action—that was all his fault. He’d been hanging on to Lisa, not giving himself fully to Violet, and she’d picked up on that. Now, though, he was done with Lisa Bristol. Violet Weatherford was the new thing. The right girlfriend for the COO of a profitable company. And she was hot.

  “Come on,” she said, reaching across the table and sliding her fingers up his arm, squeezing his bicep affectionately. “Open it!”

  Adam laughed confidently and refocused his attention. “Okay, okay.” He peeled back the paper with a hand sweating nervously from the sensation of her touch and what it implied for later.

  “Paths to Power,” he read the title of the book, “by Jeffrey Pfeffer.” He turned the book over to read its back jacket.

  “He’s a professor at Stanford’s business school. His research is totally brilliant: all about how to create more power for yourself as you build your career.”

  Adam smiled at the book, letting the feeling of power accumulation settle and stir in his veins. He transferred the smile up to Violet and, without thinking, pushed himself across the table and kissed her lips. Her lips responded in kind.

  “Is having a gorgeous girlfriend part of it?” he asked before he sat back.

  “Yes,” she said, “but you must listen to everything she says.”

  “Thank you,” he said as he dropped back into his chair.

  She smiled for a moment, then looked back down at the des
sert menu on the table. “So should we order the chocolate soufflé?”

  “Isn’t it amazing?” Adam wasn’t through reflecting. “To think that this time a year ago—it was just during spring quarter—Amelia and I had just lost our scholarships? That’s why she agreed to join the incubator, you know—so she could stay at Stanford.” He chuckled, thinking back on her pouting. “God, she didn’t want to do it.”

  “Well, she shouldn’t have sent that letter to TechCrunch. For that matter, she shouldn’t have hacked into Gibly,” Violet said without looking up from the menu. “Maybe we should have the panna cotta instead?”

  Adam thought about that objectively: Maybe it was wrong of Amelia to have hacked into Gibly. He could understand Ted’s frustration now, thinking about how upset he’d be if someone hacked into Doreye and jumped to conclusions about its business practices, and then used those presumptions to expose delicate information. He’d be as angry as Ted was at Amelia.

  “Wait.” Something in his brain clicked, and he looked at Violet. “How did you know about Amelia’s letter to TechCrunch?” The whole thing had been anonymous: Amelia had made sure of it.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone knows,” Violet answered without missing a beat. “Where is the waiter? Don’t you have to give twenty minutes’ notice for the soufflé?”

  “Oh.” Adam let that sink in. Everyone knew Amelia had written the article?

  “Can we have the soufflé and the panna cotta?” Violet asked the waiter, smiling at Adam. “And two glasses of something sweet? We’re celebrating.”

  The waiter nodded. “Of course, Mademoiselle,” he said, and took the menu.

  “Why didn’t TechCrunch ever contact her, then?” Wouldn’t Adam have heard if everyone knew?

  “What?” Violet looked irritated. “Are we still talking about this?”

  “I mean, it was all over The Wall Street Journal. If it was common knowledge, why didn’t anyone contact Amelia?”

  “Maybe they did and you just don’t know. She had a habit of keeping secrets from you, didn’t she?” Violet’s voice was starting to lose its casual evenness.

  Adam took a sip of his drink, realizing he was dangerously close to spoiling his chances of hooking up tonight.

  “Not like you’re talking to her these days,” Violet muttered under her breath.

  Adam couldn’t help himself: “And whose fault is that?”

  “Yours, Adam,” Violet snapped, her voice on the edge of desperation and rage. The people at the next table looked up. “It’s your fault,” she hissed. “All of it’s your fault.”

  Adam’s mouth fell open, taken aback by her tone. She’d been sarcastic before, but never mean.

  Her eyes suddenly looked panicked. She quickly pushed herself across the table and kissed his mouth, recovering her old tone. “I’m sorry, Adam,” she tried. “Talking about your sister just … always seems to upset you, and … and I want this night to be perfect. For you.”

  Adam swallowed, pulling his jaw back into place. “Of course,” he said softly.

  The waiter arrived with their dessert and two cocktail concoctions, and Violet lifted hers in a toast: “To Adam, and Doreye, and your new revenue.”

  Adam clinked her glass and took a deep sip, willing the drink to return him to his previous state of blissful confidence.

  As he put down his drink, though, he caught Violet looking over his shoulder.

  “Oh, Mr. Dory, you have not been following the advice I gave you at our lunch,” a gruff voice Adam recognized whispered into his ear. Adam, startled, turned to find an old man he quickly registered as Professor Marsh pulling a chair up to the table. Marsh took a seat between Violet and himself.

  Violet looked quizzically at the man, studying his face. “From campus the other day,” she whispered to herself. She looked nauseous.

  She hurriedly grabbed her purse and pulled out her iPhone, lifting the cover off it and staring at a tiny sticker on the back. She glanced up at Marsh, serious. Her chest heaved with panic.

  “As they say in the movies, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Marsh said quietly but firmly.

  Adam watched Violet’s eyes dart, like a chess player deciding her next move. Finally she picked her chin up and looked at Marsh directly. “Sir, we are trying to have dinner, if you don’t mind.”

  “Professor Marsh, what are you doing here?” Adam was beyond confused.

  “There is a car waiting for you outside, Miss … Weatherford?” Marsh opened up his tweed jacket and removed a card from his wallet. Once he slid it across the table Adam could see that it had Marsh’s photo and said in large letters CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY. He looked up at Marsh in shock: Were the rumors about him true?

  “You have nothing,” Violet said as if reading a line, the color only half returning to her cheeks. “Even with your stupid tracking chip.” She gestured to the phone. “Kudos for the clever move, though.” She lifted her cocktail.

  “I thought so,” Marsh said, grinning and chuckling softly. “But you’re wrong: I do have something. We know you work for VIPER, and we have quite a few questions to ask you.”

  Adam’s heart raced: Was Marsh a CIA agent spying on Violet? His brain searched for where he’d heard of VIPER. As if clicking through memories of the past year, Adam suddenly registered the name: VIPER was the company Amelia uncovered as making mystery payments for Gibly.

  “VIPER,” he repeated aloud.

  “Mr. Dory,” Marsh said, turning to Adam, “have you ever asked your friend here about her friends back in England? We have reason to believe that VIPER is engaged in activities that might be considered cyberterrorism.”

  Adam looked at Violet, horrified. “But Violet works for Aleister,” he tried. “The company who Doreye just…” Was VIPER the data buyer she’d arranged?

  She was paying him no attention, though, instead staring at Marsh with her jaw set, studying his face and weighing her options.

  Finally she stood smoothly and calmly from her seat. She brushed the front of her dress and folded her napkin and lifted her jacket from the back of the chair around her shoulders.

  “Well?” she said to Marsh, who rose to escort her. He held her elbow firmly but gently out the door.

  It didn’t occur to Adam to tell them to wait until they were already gone, and he sat, stunned, staring at the white tablecloth. He hadn’t ever questioned Violet’s code or her buyer. But if the buyer was VIPER, and Apple approved the updated app, then Doreye would be capable of doing exactly what Amelia risked everything to keep Gibly from doing. He had to stop his new app from being released. And fast.

  “I’ll take this whenever you’re ready,” the waitress whispered quietly, sliding a silver tray with the dinner bill next to his half-eaten soufflé.

  61

  The Shell Game

  The door slammed and Amelia jumped. She was still on a nervous high from the evening with Stuart, and sitting here with Dawson, a paroled criminal, reading confidential financial statements she’d stolen from an accountant she drugged in his own home while her friend posed as a prostitute wasn’t making her any less paranoid.

  “Amelia?” Patty’s voice called as her head popped through the door. “I hope sushi’s okay.” She entered the room with two bags of takeout in hand.

  “This is Mr. Dawson,” Amelia told Patty, indicating her foster father, who stood up to shake her hand.

  “Patty Hawkins.” She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Pleasure’s all mine,” he returned. “Do you really know this guy?” He tilted his forehead to the evidence he and Amelia were plowing through.

  “Who? Ted Bristol? Yeah, we’re old family friends. He coached my first-grade soccer team.” Family relation or no, she couldn’t resist a scandal: Her eyes got wide and she blurted excitedly, sitting down on the floor beside Amelia and adjusting her skirt, “What’d you find on him?”

  Dawson crossed his arms and stroked his chin theatrically. “Well, so f
ar, insider trading and a lot of draft bankruptcy filings.”

  “Bankruptcy filings?” Patty’s brow furrowed. “Ted’s not bankrupt.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Dawson mused, handing her a sheet of paper as he continued, “Turns out just before the Gibly sale was announced to the public, Ted Bristol spent all of his money—literally every last available cent—propping up the company.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, according to this e-mail here”—Dawson pointed at another sheet of paper—“he confirmed the terms of the sale with the Aleister Corporation at 3:32 P.M.; he bought up the shares by 5:48 P.M.; the sale was announced to the public at 7:04 P.M.”

  “But isn’t that…”

  “Illegal? Yes. It’s called insider trading. He was trying to get more bang for his buck.” Dawson smiled at Patty. “Take it from me, it was a brilliant move. I would never have been able to pull off something like that. He would have gotten away with it, too, except—”

  “Gibly fell apart, right? My dad lost a ton of money, too.”

  “But I bet your dad didn’t lose everything.” Mr. Dawson picked up a few printouts. “Look: Bristol is selling his homes to pay off his debts. He’s living in the red. He took a huge gamble and failed because he didn’t expect someone like Amelia Dory to come along.” Dawson looked at Amelia with a glimmer of fatherly pride.

  “There’s something else, Patty.” Amelia held up a piece of paper. “Ted is the owner of Doreye. Like, he owns fifty-one point four percent of the company.”

  When they’d gotten together in the stacks to discuss how to get to Stuart Chen, Amelia hadn’t explained why she needed Ted Bristol’s information, just that she did, and that Stuart, whom Amelia found to be an old Focus Girls client, had it.

  “Nobody knows because he used a bunch of shell companies.”