Paranoia (101 of 170)

—of —
by Joseph Finder
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Macmillan: Paranoia

Paranoia by Joseph Finder. Copyright 2004 by Joseph Finder.
All Rights Reserved. Sharing not permitted.

Part Five: 54 (Cont'd)

I snorted amusement, went back to my office. My insides had just turned to ice. At least my suspicions were correct—Security got "lucky"—but the bottom line was, they'd discovered the KeyGhost. I'd have to get back into Camilletti's office as soon as possible and retrieve the little KeyGhost cable before it was discovered.

On my computer screen an instant message box had popped up while I was gone.

Now I felt like the walls were closing in. Trion Security was doing a sweep of the building—and then there was Chad.

Chad, whose tone was definitely threatening, as if he'd learned just what I didn't want him to learn. The "very interesting" part was bad, as was the "old friend" part, but worst of all was "You might want to give me a call," which seemed to say, I've got you now, asshole. He wasn't going to call; no, he wanted me to squirm, to sweat, to call him in a panic ... and yet how could I not call him? Wouldn't I naturally call him out of simple curiosity about an "old friend"? I had to call.

But right now I really needed to work out. It wasn't as if I could exactly spare the time, but I needed a clear head to deal with the latest developments. On my way out of the office, Jocelyn said, "You wanted me to remind you about the Goddard Webcast at five o'clock."

"Oh, right. Thanks." I glanced at my watch. That was in twenty minutes. I didn't want to miss it, but I could watch it while I was working out, on the little monitors on the cardio equipment. Kill two birds and all that.

Then I remembered my workbag and its radioactive contents. It was just sitting on the floor of my office next to my desk, unlocked. Anyone could open it and see the documents I'd stolen from Camilletti's office. Now what? Lock them in one of my desk drawers? But Jocelyn had a key to my desk. In fact, there wasn't a place I could lock it where she couldn't get in if she wanted.

Returning quickly to my office, I sat down at my desk, retrieved the Camilletti documents from my briefcase, put them in a manila folder, and took them with me to the gym. I'd have to carry these damned files around with me until I got home, when I could secure-fax them, and then destroy them. I didn't tell Jocelyn where I was off to, and since she had access to my MeetingMaker, she knew I had no meeting scheduled.

But she was too polite to ask where I was going.

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Macmillan: Paranoia
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