Billionaire Decoded

by Nella Tyler

  It was highly unlikely. She shook her head. She was being foolish. She casually walked out the coffee shop, carefully sipping her coffee while her gaze quickly perused pedestrians on this side of the street, and then across. She sighed with relief when she didn't see the man.

  She shook her head, scolding herself for being so silly when her gaze ventured up the next block. There, just across the street on the opposite corner, she saw him leaning casually against the building, near a doorway. His camera was aimed in her direction. Shit. It was the same man. Her heart began to trip-hammer in fear as the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Why would somebody want to take pictures of her? She had never noticed it before, so why now?

  She quickly continued on to her building, trying to keep her head down, careful to keep pedestrians between her and the man taking photographs. She only glanced up a couple of times at crosswalks, ostensibly checking to make sure that nobody turned the corner when she stepped into the street. She did get a glimpse of him a couple more times. He was about twenty feet behind her on the other side of the street. It appeared to her that he was pretty much doing the same thing as she – trying to meld into the crowd.

  She couldn't fathom why anyone would take an interest in her. As she reached her building, she could only come to one conclusion. Was it because she was working here? At Shaw & Burks? She had never noticed anyone following her before, let alone taking pictures. So why now, only a few days after she had started working at the computer programming company?

  She felt uncomfortable and just a little bit frightened. Who was that taking pictures? A private eye? A competitor? The cops or perhaps someone in the government? Why? She didn't know, but the more she thought about it, the more uneasy she became. She needed to see Brecken, let him know of her concerns. He probably wouldn't be able to do anything about it, but she needed to tell someone.

  By the time she reached the floor where her office was located, she was definitely shaken. Without stopping by her office, even to drop off her purse, she instead changed her mind and took the elevator up to Brecken's office. His secretary Cynthia Meadows, a woman who appeared to be in her early forties, sat at her desk in the outer room. Actually, because Brecken’s office took up nearly the entire northwest corner of the building on this floor, Cynthia’s office space was open, located about fifteen feet or so from the elevator doors. She had decorated her space with a number of potted plants; all looking well cared for, glossy green, and happy.

  "Is Mister Shaw in yet?" Heather asked. "I need to speak to him if he has a couple of minutes."

  The secretary stared at her a moment and then appeared to remember who she was and nodded. Instead of accessing a phone line like Heather thought she would, the secretary instead stood, walked to the inner office door and knocked two times. A deep voice mumbled something behind the door. The secretary opened the door, went in and closed the door behind her. Heather shook her head in surprise.

  Computer programmers were by nature a suspicious lot, and she supposed that Brecken preferred face-to-face when it came to personal business. But inside his own building? He was cautious of what? Wire taps? Hackers? At any rate, the secretary emerged a moment later and told her to go right in, Mister Shaw had a few minutes to spare before morning meetings.

  Heather thanked her and then quickly stepped into his office, closing the door softly behind her. Brecken leaned back in his chair, smiling.

  "Good morning, Heather, is there something I can help you with?"

  "Actually, there is, but I'm not quite sure…"

  "Just spit it out," he encouraged. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk, his chin resting on one palm. "That coffee smells wonderful. What is it?"

  Coffee? Then she remembered that she still carried the coffee she had gotten at Starbucks. "Oh, um... it's an espresso macchiato… Brecken, I think there's a man following me."

  He absorbed what she said and frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "On Saturday, when I was running errands, I saw this tall guy with a camera. He appeared to be taking pictures of me, or at least, he was aiming in my direction." She shook her head. "I didn't think much of it…thought he was just a photographer taking pictures of the crowd or maybe even the buildings." She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. It was hard when she was looking at someone as handsome as Brecken. She tore her gaze away from his hair and her admiration for the slant of his jaw. She blinked as she felt her heartbeat accelerate and this time it wasn’t from her fears.

  He gestured for her to continue. "Brecken, I saw him again this morning as I was coming to work. I got out of my taxi early because of the traffic jam. I saw him on the street-”

  "Are you sure it was the same man?" he asked.

  He didn't look too concerned. She thought that maybe she was just overreacting. She pressed on. "Yes, it was the same man. I even stopped in at Starbucks to wait and see if he moved on, but he hadn't. He followed me for three blocks." She shook her head, her worry causing her heartbeat to accelerate again – this time in fear. "Brecken, I've never had this happen. Why would anyone be following me, let alone taking pictures-”?

  "It's all right, Heather," he said, lifting a hand in a calming gesture. "I'll get someone to do some surveillance, find this guy, determine if he is indeed following you, and confront him about it."

  She frowned. "Just like that?"

  "Just like that," he said.

  She wasn't sure whether she felt better or worse. While she appreciated the fact that Brecken was a man of action, she also thought it somewhat strange that he would offer to have someone surveil her when she was out of the building in order to find someone who she felt was suspicious and taking pictures of her, but with no hard proof to offer him to back up her claims.

  "If that's all, Heather, I really need to get to my morning meeting," Brecken said, standing.

  She shook her head and turned toward the door. "No, that's all, thank you…"

  She opened the door, stepped out, and after offering a brief nod to the secretary, made her way to the elevator and her own office. The incident with the photographer was scary enough, but Brecken's reaction was also startling. She had expected more questions. Perhaps even a little disbelief, some explanation that what she had seen was something innocent and explainable. But no, he hadn’t said any of those things.

  Why had he so quickly believed her? She was glad he had, but she had only known him for a short time. If she had been the boss and some new employee had come up to her and made such a claim, she might think he was nuts. But not only was he quick to believe that someone might be following her, but that someone would be taking photographs of her as well. Had this happened in his company before? She wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer to that.

  She also started to wonder about Shaw & Burks. How could she not? Was Shaw & Burks involved in something secretive? Maybe not illegal, but off enough to garner the attention of someone? She forced the thoughts – no, the wild imaginings – out of her head and decided she was allowing her imagination to run away with her. Thinking of Brecken, she felt that he was the farthest thing from a crook she could imagine. But how much did she really know about him? Not a lot. Had she allowed the perks of this job and her expected raise in pay to blind her to red flags and warning signs? If something is too good to be true, wasn’t it? She didn't want to think so. She had finally gotten to the point where she felt as if she were making strides in her life rather than baby steps. This job would allow her to tuck some money away, start a retirement fund, a pension, and all the perks that she had worked so long for.

  Shaw & Burks was a reputable company and had clients all the over the world. If they were involved in something illegal, she would've thought that the FBI, the DEA, hell, even the CIA or DHS would be all over them. They weren't. Besides, she hadn’t seen anything mysterious or concerning in the spreadsheets that she had been working on, except of course, the massive amounts of money that came in and out.

  J
ust because she wasn't used to working with such large figures didn't at all imply that they were suspicious. After all, Brecken was a billionaire. A few hundred thousand dollars to him was a drop in the bucket. Chump change.

  She entered her office and sat down at her desk, placing the now cold Starbucks coffee on the table beside her. While she did her best to get to work and focus on what she was doing, she couldn't help but wonder if Brecken had told her everything about his company that she needed to know.

  She couldn't help but get the feeling that he was not telling her something, and that left her feeling a little odd. She tried to ignore the uneasy feeling she was getting, determined not to overreact to something that probably had nothing to do with her whatsoever. The uncertainty made her stomach knot with tension. That sense of tension didn't leave, in spite of the fact that she saw no sight of the man with the camera when she left the building at the end of the day.

  *

  The week passed. Heather hadn't seen, let alone talked to Brecken since Monday morning. She didn't see anyone following her, either, although throughout the week she kept glancing over her shoulder everywhere she went, scanning the streets, shops, and area around her apartment building. To say the thought of someone taking photographs of her left her feeling a little jumpy was an understatement.

  She was extremely busy and lost herself in work. She took her job seriously and had gotten through quite a bit of paperwork that needed catching up and updating by the end of the week. She looked forward to finishing out the day and then relaxing over the weekend, doing nothing more than putting on some lounge clothes, watching TV, reading, and basically just vegging. If Melanie was available and not on a photo shoot, maybe they could go do something.

  By the time Friday early afternoon rolled around, she had pretty much forgotten about the man with the camera. Maybe she had just been imagining things. After all, this was Boston. There were always visitors, travelers, and photographers taking pictures of historical landmarks and admiring the architecture. She began to think she had been downright silly to burst into Brecken's office on Monday morning, jumping to the conclusion that somebody was following her. She felt embarrassed about that now. For heaven's sake, she had acted like a terrified heroine in the 1950s B mystery movie.

  She wondered if Brecken had followed through on his comment that he would have one of his own people do surveillance. She knew that he had a security department, but that was mainly for protecting the building and intellectual property inside it, wasn't it? It wasn't like they were supposed to be perceived as bodyguards. Again she shook her head, feeling incredibly foolish. She was kind of glad she hadn't seen Brecken all week. She couldn't imagine what he thought of her now. His new accounting department manager...afraid of her own shadow? She wanted to be a long-term employment here, not a temporary one. She would have to keep better control of her emotions.

  It was nearly mid-afternoon when her phone rang. She was just wrapping things up at her desk, looking forward to finishing work, relieving the headache that had begun to pound in her temples, and resting her eyes after such intense work at the computer all week. She picked up the phone.

  Hello?" she answered, her voice soft and lilting. She didn't hear anything. "Hello? Can I help you?" Still nothing. She frowned, figured it was a mis-dial, but tried one more time. "Hello, is there something-"

  "How does it feel to work for a traitor?"

  The voice was male, deep and rumbly, as if he had just finished coughing.

  "What?" Had she heard correctly? "What did you say?"

  Nothing.

  "Hello? What are you talking about?"

  She heard the dial tone. The caller had hung up. What the hell? How does it feel to work for a traitor? Who was he talking about? Brecken? How could anyone get the idea that Brecken was a traitor? She shook her head, frowning. Did this have anything to do with the guy that was following her with the camera? Someone had been following her.

  What the hell was going on? Her heart rate accelerated. As she glanced down at her desk, she realized that her hand shook as she replaced the receiver on the combination phone and answering machine. Shit. She was fortunate she was already sitting down. If she had been standing, she was sure her knees would be wobbling by now. What the hell was going on?

  Should she say something to Brecken? Was someone just playing a joke on her? A prank? Was she going through some kind of hazing at the company as a new employee? There was no doubt that she had likely been hired over a few others in the company that had probably put in more time, so maybe someone was jealous or upset. Someone was trying to make her nervous enough to quit. A man following her. Taking pictures. A mysterious phone call. Accusations of Brecken being a traitor? This all made no sense.

  She glanced at her computer screen, all her documents closed now, wondering what to do. She didn't want to go running up to Brecken again with yet another suspicious claim. Then again, that phone call had been directed to her on her phone line in her office. It wasn't some bystander on the street. Someone had called her office extension. She was still so new that her name and number were not likely listed in the public company directory, so how would someone get her extension number?

  Her computer screen flickered for a second. She quickly focused on it, frowning. What now, a power surge? To her dismay, the computer screen suddenly went black. What the hell? She half rose in her chair, thinking to unplug the entire system. This was a computer programming company. They didn't get computer glitches.

  But they could be hacked. Just as she was reaching for the power plug, another image popped up on our screen. She froze, staring at it in wide-eyed dismay.

  It was an image of herself, walking on the street just across from the Starbucks – the same street where she had seen the man taking photographs of her. She sank down into her chair, her knees definitely wobbly now. It wasn't just the image of her strolling down the street that alarmed her, but her hair blowing in the breeze. No. It was much more than that. Two red X's had crossed out her eyes. The image had been Photoshopped to show her wearing a cast on one arm. What did it mean? A cast?

  At the bottom of the picture, two words had been superimposed on the photo.

  Think twice.

  That did it. She sprang into action and quickly printed the image, before it disappeared. As soon as she gave the computer the command to do so, she shut it down. Across the room, her printer clicked and whirred into action, slowly disgorging the image of her walking down the street, glancing slightly over her shoulder, her eyes not quite meeting those of the photographer.

  She quickly picked up the phone and punched in an extension. The phone rang once before it was answered.

  "Mister Shaw's office," Cynthia's pleasant voice answered.

  "Cynthia, this is Heather, in accounting. Is Mister Shaw still in?"

  "Yes, he is, Heather."

  "I need to see him," she said, trying to keep her voice calm even though she still heard the tremor in it.

  "Certainly. Would you like to schedule an appointment first thing on Monday?"

  "No, I'd like to see him now if it's possible." She hesitated. “It’s urgent.”

  "Let me see if he's available," Cynthia said. "I'll put you on hold for a moment."

  Heather said nothing as Cynthia did just that. She listened to what she always called elevator music, although the music playing was more of a soft, upbeat kind of jazz. A few seconds later, Cynthia's voice came over the line.

  "Mister Shaw is going to believe leaving in about ten minutes. Can you come up here right now?"

  "I'm on my way," she said. The moment she hung up the phone, she grabbed a copy of the photo that she had printed, her sweater, and her purse and headed out of her office, not forgetting to lock her office door. She quickly stepped down the hallway toward the elevator. Pressed the UP button and waited impatiently. A few seconds later, she heard a soft ding and the elevator doors opened. She rushed inside and then pressed the button up to Brecken's office.
As soon as the doors opened, she stepped out and quickly headed down the hallway. She saw Cynthia at her desk.

  "Go right in," Cynthia offered with a hand gesture.

  "Thanks, Cynthia," she said. She stepped toward Brecken’s door, knocked once, and then without waiting for a reply, opened the door and entered. By now, her heart was pounding. She was seriously alarmed. Brecken glanced up from some paperwork, did a double take, and then tossed his pen down on the stack of papers he was working on.

  "What's wrong, Heather?" he asked, half standing when he saw the expression on her face. "You're as white as a ghost." He quickly came around his desk and pulled out one of the visitor chairs. "Come. Sit down. Tell me what's happened."

  Wordlessly, fighting back the urge to cry, she handed the copied image of her to Brecken. "Someone called me just now with a cryptic message. Then, my computer screen flickered, went black, and the next thing I knew, this image was displayed on my screen."

  She watched as Brecken gazed down at the photo. His jaw hardened. She saw a vein throbbing in his temple. He glanced at her, an eyebrow raised in question.

  "When did this happen, Heather?"

  "Not ten minutes ago!" She paused and shook her head. "I'm not going to lie to you, Brecken. I'm concerned. First a strange man following me taking photographs and now this? It's been quiet all week. I haven't seen that man at all, and I even began to think that I had imagined it, that I was letting my imagination run away with me. Now, after seeing that?" She gestured with a shaking finger at the image. "What's going on? What does that mean? Why did they Photoshop a cast on my arm and cross out my eyes?"

  She swallowed, forced back the tears as fear enveloped her. "Brecken, is there something that your company is involved in that I should know about? Is there something you need to tell me if for nothing else than my own safety?"