Anxiety on the Upswing

Laying on my stomach on my bed wasn't exactly the best position for productivity, but it was okay to check out the spec Stiff sent me.

The job paid six figures and involved infiltrating a company's database. The vice president wanted a deep dive and scrub of all indications that he was involved in a specific project's procurement and ultimate failure. He also wanted tracking installed to warn him if any new buzz filtered through the company.

It was a fairly basic job. I could do it in my sleep, but I had standards. The money was good, but I wanted to know more about the client and the target.

The target was a structural engineering firm. The project was a commercial building that was almost completed before the inspectors determined there were structural faults that could cause a building to collapse under the right conditions. Further investigation uncovered problems with both the blueprints and the materials used.

No wonder the man didn't want to be associated with the project.

A search into the client explained more. Michael Moore was a fifty-year-old family man with two adult children and a Pilates instructor as a wife. She was a second wife who was half his age. He was a member of the local country club and a director for two non-profits. He drove a little red sports car and liked to be seen at all the right events. He was also on the board of directors for his homeowners' association.

Lately, he seemed to prioritize attending political events over social functions. Mrs. Moore was equally busy.

And then I ran across the aha moment. I found a series of news and gossip articles hinting that Mr. Moore was ready to throw his name in the hat as a mayoral candidate. He had neither admitted nor denied the allegations. Playing a key role in a failed project would most certainly throw cold water on his political aspirations.

Okay, so in the big picture, the client hadn't killed anyone. He wasn't looking to commit a major crime. He just wanted to cover up his participation. He wasn't asking us to destroy evidence, merely massage it to cheat the public. The project investigation was closed long ago, and the company had paid the damages assessed.

His hands weren't clean. Mine wouldn't be either. The money was good. In the grand scheme of things, this was the type of project any good hacker could do, so my not doing it wouldn't keep it from happening. And I was fooling myself if I didn't believe every politician had something in their past that they were covering up.

When I closed my laptop half an hour later, I was okay with my decision to take the job. I would contact Stiff and start the project.

I received a text message:

King: Good night.

Teela: Good night?

He had never texted me before. For that matter, I could count the number of times I remembered him greeting me in any way on one hand.

King: Our first appointment is tomorrow at 1:00. I'll send the address.

Already? I assumed it would take King a few days to find a therapist and secure an appointment, but then again, he was King.

Teela: Okay.

Dr. Pacer was located in the same building as King. No wonder. He probably traded therapy services for office space rent.

Fine. I didn't have anyone better picked out. If I didn't like this Dr. Pacer, it was just a month, or I could find a therapist myself.

I tried to sleep—I really did—but it just wasn't happening. My thoughts kept going around and around about how the therapy session might go. What did I want to say? How much of the Heavenly family activity would King tolerate me sharing? Would it do any good?

What if the therapist blamed me for our problems? What if, what if, what if. The biggest what if was what would happen if the therapist suggested I should move back in with King.

Eventually, light peaked in around the curtains. I gave up the battle for sleep. I would feel better after attending therapy and getting a feel for what to expect. In the meantime, I might as well make the most of the extra waking hours.

I cleaned up before doing some prep work for the hack. By the time I stopped to cook breakfast, I had the tracker code lined out. Outside, Father DiMarco was working his way through a tai chi routine. The slow, gentle actions reminded me of a well-choreographed dance.

I should take up a sport—maybe martial arts like tai chi or karate or something. It might make me feel more secure during this time of transition. And, who knows, my skills might save my life one day. It was a thought.

By the time I left Father DiMarco to cleaning up after the meal, I was anxious to get out and stretch my legs. I passed three bus stops before I boarded a bus that would let me off a few blocks from the Heavenly building.

I stopped at a coffee shop I'd visited before. I bought a coffee and found a seat in the back of the café where I could track who was coming and going. I checked out my surroundings for a while before I pulled out my laptop and went online.

Stiff must have been waiting for me because he responded immediately.

Stiff: So what do you think?

Night Shadows: Let's do it.

Twenty minutes later, I'd finished with the tracker. It took Stiff longer to do the scrub.

Stiff: Finished.

Night Shadows: Same.

Stiff: Same account?

Night Shadows: No. One sec.

I quickly set up a new online bank account. I didn't want my new money tainted by King's pity money.

Stiff: Hey, want to meet up?

Meet? We'd known each other for years. Never before had Stiff suggested meeting. It set off alarm bells in my head.

Night Shadows: I got a lot of stuff going on. Rain check?

Stiff: Sure. Soon, okay?

Night Shadows: Sure.

I wasn't even sure if Stiff was a man or a woman. For all I knew, Stiff was an eighty-year-old man with a man bun and missing teeth. But I didn't think so. Stiff was too astute. His actions were too fast. We had always worked together so well as a team that I'd always considered Stiff younger. Closer to my age.

I bought a kolache for an early lunch and took it to a nearby park to enjoy while I killed time. It was way too early to show up to my meeting with King.

It was a beautiful sunny day. An old man was feeding breadcrumbs to the birds. He looked so relaxed. Now, I wished I had thought to do the same, but I wasn't accustomed to relaxing. I always had a full schedule until just recently. Having the time to hang out at the park was a true luxury. I added it to my to-do list, right under take up a sport.

A couple walked past me. The woman was hugging the man's arm as she chatted away amiably. The woman, I didn't recognize, but the man looked familiar. I wished I'd seen his face.

They stopped short when she dropped her red and white silk scarf. The man chased after it as the breeze picked up and carried the scarf along the sidewalk. When the man turned toward me slightly, I realized who it was. King was walking in the park with another woman.

When King captured the scarf, he handed it to the woman with a smile. He helped her tie it around her neck before taking her arm and urging her on the way.

In the meantime, my heart dropped. Subconsciously, I'd always comforted myself with thinking King just wasn't into women. It wasn't just me. I couldn't fall back on that stance now because he obviously liked this woman.

I started following them without thinking about it. They left the park and crossed the street, entering a chic bistro. I stopped myself from following them in, but I didn't need to go in. They were seated at a table in front of the picture window. I watched as they ordered drinks. The woman took a sip, then rested her hand on top of King's. He didn't pull away. He didn't look put out like he did with me.

From next to me, a man spoke. "Her name is Nan. She is King's personal secretary. For years, it was assumed they would eventually marry, but he married you instead. Your marriage hasn't changed much in their relationship. He goes home for dinner, but when you think he is in his study, a lot of the time, he's left the house to find her."

I examined her more closely. She was tall, around King's age. She had a slender frame, but her chest and hips were prominent enough that no one would ever confuse her for a man. She had a sophisticated look about her that I could never pull off. And she made him smile.

"We should go." The man put an arm around me.

I turned to see who had touched me. My eyes widen with surprise. "It's you."