January ran her foot over his leg as she spoke. “You should know that, when I’m working, I do often go out to dinner and shows with clients. Sometimes we take them to various points of interest around Seattle, such as the Space Needle, but there’s been no sexual contact.”
Dothan placed his hand on the top of her foot. “I know. Agnes is just an old dragon who has no life and isn’t happy unless she’s screwing with someone.”
“Have you considered she might try a bit of reverse psychology by pointing the finger at me and my department for some darker reason?”
“Agnes?” he asked. “Um, no. She doesn’t have any deep secrets. I don’t think she’s even stolen a pencil from the supply room.”
“All I’m saying is she might have secrets of her own, and she’s using Conscentiam as a distraction. You can’t judge someone by their outward appearance. Maybe there’s more than you realize lurking under that gray hair.”
“Bright orange.”
“I’m sorry?”
Dothan smirked. “Agnes has bright orange hair.”
January’s face relaxed into a smile. “That alone should make you suspicious of her.”
“That’s so weird. Agnes said the same thing.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“She told me not to judge someone by their outward appearance.”
“I’m going to assume that she directed that comment at me,” said January with a sigh, “but let’s not think about her anymore tonight. I’ll go through Sib’s email again, just in case I missed something.”
Dothan reached for his laptop. He tried to research, but could not concentrate. While he refused to believe Agnes’s warning, he it was impossible to push her words from his thoughts. It was true he knew almost nothing about January beyond the minimal information she had shared. If the old bat was right, what he did not know could destroy him.
It’s time I found out.
While January dug through Sibella’s email and social media, he brought up an anonymizing browser. After jumping through a few proxy hoops, he opened a shadowy doorway to the darker corners of the internet. If there was any dirt on her or Conscentiam, he would find it there.
A cursory search offered him little more than he already knew about January. He found news articles about her various work projects, as well as several photos and videos stolen from her social media sites. Outside of a couple blurry nudes attributed to her, there was nothing which troubled him. As he suspected, Agnes had been dead wrong.
Relieved, he directed his attention to Conscentiam. His first search found thousands of articles regarding the seedy activities of the corporation and its divisions, the entirety of which was public knowledge. Another search found stories of disgruntled employees wanting revenge for unwarranted terminations, rumors of mergers, and other issues of little value.
One provocative topic, though, intrigued him. The corporation seemed to have a shady business practice referred to as “blackballing.” The subject had sparked a bustling set of conversations on the connection between it and the weird disappearances of men and women within the company. Several of those posting found it odd there had been no media attention regarding the missing people, believing the reason to have been massive payoffs to insure continuing silence. There were also those who believed Conscentiam was guilty of murder.
January had mentioned the lawyer disappeared after doing some work with Conscentiam. Could it be he was also a victim of blackballing? Dothan searched for the name Lucas Gilmore, but while a few bits of information surfaced here and there, none were regarding his disappearance. It was possible he was not missing at all. Maybe he had embezzled a wad of cash and was hiding on a tropical island until he could head to Brazil.
Dothan copied and enlarged a photograph of Gilmore from a twenty-year-old news article announcing the lawyer’s new corporate practice. The professional portrait did little to hide the sparse, curly hair and double chin. How could such a weird looking man attract a woman like Sibella Gale? Even beyond the dowdy presence, he carried on an insignificant existence. Despite January’s gut feeling, there was nothing placing him anywhere near Sibella at the time of her death.
He closed the cloaking browser and glanced up to find January smiling at him.
“What?” he asked.
“It’s amazing how handsome you are.”
“And here I was, hoping you wanted me for my mind and not
just my body.”
“As if.”
“Oh well, I can live with being a sex object.”
She grinned. “I went through Sibella’s emails and her private messages again, but I found nothing outside of what I already knew. Did you have any luck with your searches? I know you don’t agree, but I still believe we should put our energies into finding Lucas Gilmore.”
Dothan shook his head. “I did some checking, but unless there’s information you’re not telling me, I can’t see how he’s even involved. He only dated her for a couple of weeks before he disappeared, and you said it wasn’t serious. I don’t know. It just doesn’t make sense to keep trying to find someone who had vanished by the time Sibella died.”
She placed her laptop on the floor and slid across the sofa toward Dothan. She ran her fingers along his arm and breathed into his ear. “I just can’t stop thinking this guy holds the key.”
Dothan smiled and closed his eyes. “If you keep that up, we won’t get anything done.”
With a sultry smile, January pulled away. She lay back and placed her manicured fingernail on the tip of her tongue. “Maybe I’ll just leave you wanting until you find Gilmore for me.”
“That would be cruel and unusual punishment.” Dothan closed his laptop and threw himself next to her, kissing her neck as she made a soft moan.
January ran her hands along his back and arms. He kissed her shoulders, moving toward the cleft of her breasts.
“Detective John Barclay,” she whispered.
Dothan sighed and pulled away from her. “What?”
“He’s the detective working on Sibella’s case and has a list of the men who were dating her when she died.”
“Not the best timing, so how about we check it out later?” He leaned toward her, but she pressed her hands against his shoulders. His head hung in frustration. “Or we can figure out a way to get that information from him now.”
Dothan grabbed his laptop. “Any chance you can get me what you already have on him, like his name, email, that sort of thing?
“Sure.” January scanned through her phone. “I just sent you a text with his contact information. What are you planning to do?”
“I’m not sure. It all depends if his email is easy to crack, or if I can find a back door into the police database.”
“You’re very sexy wearing that black hat.”
January’s phone rang. “I’ve got to take this.” She placed it against her ear as she entered the bedroom and closed the door.
After logging into his own system, he connected to a multi-hop virtual private network. It was essential to hide his anonymity in case the police noticed the breach. It was a lost cause, though, as nothing in his arsenal could put a chink through Seattle Homicide’s firewall.
It was possible hackers might have cracked those police databases, but to get that information would cost a fortune. There was one person who could get him the detective’s personal information. Dothan dug his way back into the dark web, and, using a bit of end-to-end encryption within the anonymous browser, placed a chat request to a dangerous hacker known as VprKlU.
The mysterious figure had offered his services to Dothan after a mutual acquaintance introduced them, but he had put off contacting VprKlU because of his vicious reputation. Now, it seemed he needed the hacker’s help to get Barclay’s information, and as long as it did not involve upfront cash, it was worth the risk.
&nbs
p; VprKlU accepted the chat and asked, “Coin or favour?
Perfect, thought Dothan. He’s willing to trade.
“Favor” he wrote.
“Done,” replied VprKlU. “Deets.”
“Need ISP and ID of [email protected], quick.”
“Haha, fkn squeemail? EZ. Chk ltr.”
“Cool.”
The bedroom door opened and January entered the room.
“Did you have any luck with Barclay’s accounts?” she asked.
He closed his laptop as she approached him for a kiss. “I’ve got a few irons in the fire, but they locked that damn police thing so it was impossible to crack. Who was on the phone?”
“Oh, no one important,” she said. “Just a friend I haven’t heard from in forever.”
“What’s his name?”
January laughed. “Her name is Candy, and she and I go way back.”
“Is she one of the same friends who knew Sibella?”
“Everyone who knew me knew Sibella. We were joined at the hip.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Enough work for today. Isn’t it time for bed yet?” He stood and extended his hand to her.
“Long past,” she said, leading him to the bedroom.
Chapter Ten
The elevator door opened to the darkness of Dunlevy’s basement. Dothan stepped beneath the buzzing florescent bulb and turned into the alcove where Agnes sat at her desk writing out her usual forms.
The old woman had secrets, and it was time to uncover them.
“Morning, Agnes,” he said as he logged into the systems.
The scratching of her pen stopped, creating an eerie silence in the cavernous basement.
“Good morning,” she said.
So, the ice queen is speaking to me, he thought.
Dothan turned his chair around to face her. “Listen, I’m sorry for yesterday. I guess I overreacted.”
“I see,” said Agnes.
“Would you like a coffee?”
“No, thank you, but there’s a fresh pot if you’d like some.”
“I will in a minute. Can we talk first?”
Agnes sighed and turned her chair toward him. “I’m not sure what more either of us can have to say. You’re involved with someone who will destroy you, and you ended our agreement. We have no other common ground, so why kick a dead horse?”
“Because this has nothing to do with January or the software. I want to know why you’ve got such a grudge against Conscentiam.”
“I’m not discussing my thoughts on that place with the guy who’s sleeping with the enemy.”
“Enemy?” asked Dothan. “There’s nothing dishonest about January. Nothing. At. All. Zero. If anything, she’s too good and too trusting to be in a company seem to cause their employees to disappear.”
Agnes lifted one penciled eyebrow, but remained silent.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know all about blackballing, and how people vanished over the last thirty years. I’ll guess, since you’re not tearing into me, you do, too.”
“For your sake, it would be better if you didn’t bring that particular subject up around that viper you’ve invited into your bed.”
“What do you think she’ll do? Get out her magic wand and send me to Oz along with everyone else who’s missing?”
“What she may be capable of isn’t a joke.”
“So, if you’re so concerned about me, tell me the truth.”
Agnes shook her head. “Look, just take my advice. Stop rocking the boat by asking stupid questions about Conscentiam. Leave it alone and run as far away from January Kinsie as you can.”
“What boats did Lucas Gilmore rock?”
She lifted her hand and turned back to her laptop.
“I guess we’re done talking, then?” said Dothan.
The alcove settled into an icy tension, quiet but for the click of her keyboard.
His chair squealed as he returned to his own workstation.
What are you hiding in that worm-eaten brain of yours?
***
After the endless hours of silent tedium, Dothan checked his watch and grabbed his bag.
Close enough to five for me.
He settled into an empty seat for the long bus ride home, still agitated by Agnes’s refusal to talk to him about Conscentiam. It just made no sense. She seemed to have no connection to the company or any of its employees. Why hate them? He dismissed any thought she knew much about blackballing. Althea Harrington could have brought the topic up during one of her church pity parties.
January, though, had to be aware of the shady practice. Maybe she suspected Sibella and Lucas Gilmore had been victims. That could explain January’s desperation to find the lawyer, but why not tell him about it?
Agnes told him to stop asking questions and run. Was it because he might be in danger, or was she suggesting they might include him when they targeted January, causing them both to disappear like the others?
Fear clutched at his throat. Were all these people really missing, or dead?
Dothan wiped away the perspiration from his forehead. With a trembling hand, he unzipped a side pocket of his backpack and took out the vial containing his remaining pills.
Three left. If I take one, I’ll have to manage until I can score again. Whatever. I just need to stop thinking stupid shit.
A little girl watched him swallow the pill dry.
“Look, Mom,” the child shouted. “That guy over there. He’s taking drugs!”
Shut up! Shut up, you stupid kid.
She bounced up and down on the seat, grabbing at the sleeve of her mother’s jacket.
He slipped off his glasses and took a deep breath, desperate to rise above his growing panic. It was important to appear calm.
The mother turned to him, and he gave her a flirtatious smile. She grinned and Dothan winked. The woman smoothed her hair and blushed as she mouthed, “I’m sorry.” With a pull on the child’s arm, turned the girl to face the front of the bus.
He exhaled and laid back against the headrest, waiting for the blessed relief offered by the drug. Damn Dr. Terry for ever handing him that first prescription. It was bad enough she got him hooked, but to just stop prescribing them was unforgivable.
I should have burned down her office instead of wiping her drives with that email virus, he thought.
Swaddled in a comforting haze of medicated calm, the bus came to a stop. He shuffled past the empty seats and stepped onto the sidewalk.
Dothan met January at the door and embraced her.
Now or never.
He led her to the couch and took her hands. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. What is this?”
“It’s a hard question, so I’m just going to ask it. What do you know about blackballing at Conscentiam? Is there any chance this thing is tied to Lucas Gilmore’s disappearance?”
January froze. The soft, loving lines of her face hardened. “Blackballing?” she asked. “I know nothing about it.”
“How can you not? It’s almost an urban legend.”
“Well, I’ve heard the stories, but I’m not comfortable discussing those with you.”
“So just nod or shake your head. Do you know anything about the people who vanished after being blackballed?”
“I wouldn’t have any idea.” January moved her laptop aside and allowed her long, pointed nails to drift along his thigh. “Can we drop it now?” A chilling coldness had replaced the warmth in her beautiful eyes, as if the mere mention of blackballing had transformed her into a huntress circling prey. Was she trying to seduce him to end the conversation?
Annoyed, he grabbed her hands. “Stop it,” he said. “If Gilmore is missing because of blackballing, we could be in a world of hurt trying to find him. You sh
ould have told me about this shit.”
She huffed and backed away from him. “If blackballing exists, and there’s no proof it does, it wouldn’t have anything to do with me.”
“Except you work for a department that’s known for it.”
“What does Acquisitions have to do with Lucas Gilmore? He had no dealings with us. He just did a bit of private legal work for Harrington. As far as I know, it wasn’t anything high profile, or even confidential. I don’t understand why he vanished, but I can tell you it had nothing to do with the department or Conscentiam. Did it ever occur to you he might have had debts, or an ex-wife on the hunt for him?”
“So, you’re telling me the truth. You’re sure this had nothing to do with Conscentiam.”
She moved closer to him, placing his hand over her heart. “I am one-hundred percent certain. If I thought there was any merit in this blackballing legend, I’d tell you. I just want to find Gilmore for information. Even if we ruled him out as a suspect in Sibby’s death, he might have something to help us find her killer.” January cocked her head, examining him. “Why are you asking me this? Was it Agnes? Is she trying to give you a reason to hate me?”
“Agnes is a sad old woman who has a grudge against Conscentiam, not you.”
“Is that why she’s continued to point a finger at me and everyone in Acquisitions?”
Dothan shook his head. “My guess is she heard some stories about your department, and she’s blown them out of proportion. You’re just guilty by association. Anyway, our partnership is over and she’s out of the picture.”
January pulled back from him. “Partnership?”
“Well, in the loosest sense. We were going to market my software together, but I’m not working with someone who’s batshit crazy.”
“How is it she knows about your software, but you won’t show it to me?”
“Agnes only understands a very basic side to the software. The only reason she and I had our agreement at all was she blackmailed me with documentation I needed to complete it. I haven’t shown you yet because the raw data is too confusing without a proper interface, even to someone as tech-savvy as you.”
The Optogram Page 11