Chapter Six

With a hand over her mouth a young woman barged past Savage and ran for the corridor.

What's that about? Savage thought. He followed Thomson between the desks in silence.

The twentieth floor. The Relationship Department. Two rows of desks, monitors and headsets tapered as far as the window in any direction.

Thomson nodded at the Relationship Director in his side office with the door open. Only minutes after the unofficial OpCo he had his sleeves rolled up, headset on and strode up and down. A work tempo for the rest of the office to mirror.

Thomson led Savage to a desk crammed between two middle ranking suits, their jackets off.

'What's this?' Savage said.

'Your desk, my liege.'

Savage cocked an eyebrow. 'You're kidding? What happened to the security department?'

'It's still there, in a different place, but you. You're the kite remember? This is where you fly.'

Savage folded his arms, jutted his chin at his old colleague. 'How am I supposed to get anything done here?'

'You're not.' He chuckled at Savage's reaction, 'Just look busy,' and turned his back.

Savage watched him walk away, then stood and stared, lost for a moment, like in an alternate reality from a dream.

His eyes followed the long lines of terminals until they disappeared around the other side of the central atrium.

Lots of bodies. Lots of money to move.

The fat man on his left bucked the office zeitgeist and slept, head back, mouth open in a silent snore. The whispy male to his right scrolled through pages of spreadsheet data on screen, then dialled a number.

'Charlie, it's Max' he said. 'How the devil are you?'

Savage sat down at his oversized screen. A decisive act.

Come on go-to-guy, what now?

'Yeah, I heard, it was the deputy pm,' Max said. 'Did you watch the video?'

Savage wondered whether Charlie was a man or a woman.

'It's lucky I've got you on the phone then. We need to close the deal, now. Send me the necessaries and I'll have Services sign off on it a-s-a-fucking-p.'

The Relationship Department – a softened name for the overtly commercial Sales Department.

Savage just knew that somewhere in the room there would be a notice board with the relationship star of the month on it. Like whore of the month, how many tricks could you turn? Except sex was against the rules of course. A conflict of interests.

Sex issues got escalated to him – in the old days. In the new days Savage didn't even have a log-in for the terminal in front of him.

Max was talking again. 'Did they say who the killer is?'

Now, that was more Savage's area. He glanced at his neighbour's screen and saw a video feed of a man in a hospital bed. Lots of blood.

'There's going to be a shit storm alright,' Max said. 'I'll stay on the line while you send that over.'

Sick puppy that killer. Sick sick puppy. But Savage had seen worse and he had other things to do. He shook his mouse. The log-in screen popped up.

Savage craned his neck. Armstong was still on the phone. Who'd give him a log-in?

He ran a basic security scan. Checked the desk for any post-its or notes with names and numbers on. Nothing. Under the keyboard? Monitor? Nope. Okay then, how about system default user-names and passwords into the log-in fields?

He typed them in.

No dice.

Savage had installed the system after all. It would be safe from the obvious.

He'd also defined the procedures for disgruntled employees like him. Walk them off the premises immediately, then total lockout of every system. They could have been working there twenty years and depart on the best of terms. Didn't matter. Walk off and lock down. Nothing personal. Just get out. And don't ever come back.

Savage had a few hacker tools in his bag that would punch him through the log-in. But then he remembered, he didn't walk himself off, Thomson did.

Thomson who thought that slide shows were still really really neat.

Savage typed in the log-in details for his old admin account. He pressed enter and the screen went blank.

Another screen bounced back: No Authorization. Contact Systems Administration.

Okay, Thomson had been on the ball after all. Savage twitched his fingers. Now what?

Then he remembered. Savage typed the company format for the user name: MMouse followed by password: 3279-86-27325code.

Nothing fancy. Any teenager with quick text fingers and a knack for anagrams could crack it. A simple telephone dial-pad word-replacement: EASY-TO-BREAKcode.

It was the log-in for the default personal account he'd tested applications on. He pressed enter and waited for something to happen. The screen went blank.

Savage caught Max watching, he gave Savage a shrug, then held his eye.

'I know,' Max said into the mouthpiece. 'The bastards. No, I know.'

The screen changed. 'Welcome Mickey' it said and then flashed to a Windows desktop.

'Get in,' Savage said.

On the desktop were the usual icons for company software. His penetration-testing kit – hacker kit in non-corporate speak – had always been on the now defunct admin account. But that wasn't what he was looking for. He clicked My Documents and opened a very full folder.

All info, no apps. Last minute backup files from his old admin account.

'That's a bit naughty Mickey.' Max winked. 'First day on the job?'

Savage's turn to shrug.

'And already causing trouble.'

Savage raised his hands. 'I couldn't possibly comment,' he smiled, 'Now, how much money would you like transferred to your account in order to keep schtum?'

'Couple a mill' should do it.' He held out his hand. They shook. 'I'm Westlake,' he said. 'Max Westlake.'

Savage nodded, 'John Savage.'

Max pointed at his headset, Charlie's back, and started babbling.

The snores on Savage's left hit deep-sleep volume.

He rummaged through his old files and found a day's worth of audio phone logs along with the spreadsheets, statements and notes on Michael – the jumper. He opened one of the files. His last progress report, on his last company investigation. It was all still there. Michael’s financial transactions, security notes, surveillance files. He'd been clean, on paper.

Savage had first noticed him as the initiator on several hires that damaged the company. Then his name came up in a series of introductory meetings with suspicious private banking clients. Thinly disguised red-flags – do not touch crime world figures and questionable military leaders from fledgling dictatorships. Michael had never signed off on anything, just encouraged meetings.

These individuals hadn't become clients, but Michael, it appeared, had started living a more luxurious life. A house in the country, a house in the city. Nice cars, a yacht, but none of them owned by him. A company called Artemis Trading International LLC owned them. A Cayman Islands outfit and totally anonymous of course.

Artemis hadn't become a client, so no money laundering was suspected or proved. But Michael was becoming unusually rich. How?

The private detective Savage had working in the Cayman's told him he thought he'd found what he needed and was couriering it through. Savage called to arrange a meeting with Michael, then he jumped.

Devlin had been there too. And Savage had been way too close.

A definite conflict of interests.

Savage checked the files again and then copied them. Savage had been walked off the premises before the courier arrived. So who would have that information now?

Thomson.

A dead end then. And nothing had changed. So, what was he doing there?

Looking for the truth. He'd been Mr Nice, now he was Mr Nasty, and it all started with Michael.

'That looks interesting,' Max said.

'Not really, just old files.' Max raised his eyebrows. 'House cleaning,' Savage said.

More eyebrows.

'Okay,' Savage leaned back. 'How many more millions would you like?'

'Make it six.'

'Hey, wait a sec,' Savage held up a pretend handset, 'Gordon Gecko on line one for you, says he's looking for a man with no scruples.'

'Tell him, for another six mill' and a shot at Catherine-Zeta I'm his man.'

'So you'll keep your mouth shut while I do this?' Savage brandished a USB micro-drive.

'Don't bother,' Max said, 'they're all locked out so that we can't take any information home with us.'

'Watch.'

Savage plugged the small memory-stick into a dead port. The auto-start feature popped up on screen, followed by three small black DOS system screens. The last one stayed open. Savage typed in a short command and a file transfer started.

'John, what did you just do?'

'Nothing.' Savage fixed Max a killer stare.

'Message received psycho-boy, your secret is safe.'

'Sorry, my bad,' Savage softened his eyes. 'How about I make it eight mill?'

Max chuckled. 'Sure. Just keep me out of whatever you're doing.'

If Charlie had come back on the line Max would have bitten his ear off. Savage, the monster, sighed.

'Max, don't worry, look, this is my job. I'm here to test the integrity of the systems and structures you have in place, that's all.'

'Yes, and I'm the Prince of Persia.'

He threw a pen top over the computer in front of Savage.

'Hoy!' A head popped out. A pretty woman. 'I'll get you for that Max.'

'Echo,' Max said, 'I need your help. Psycho-boy over here is telling me lies as he steals the company's super-sensitive secrets to sell to the Russians.'

'Good for him,' she said and looked in Savage's direction.

'He threatened me,' Max said.

'Not me,' Savage said. Her eyes fixed on him.

'Ah, that Westlake charm worked it's magic then?’ She snapped her head away. ‘I threatened you when we first met.'

'Hey, that's true, you did.’

‘Still hate me enough to come round for dinner on Wednesday night?'

'Absolutely.'

‘Really Max? Can’t you spot an empty gesture?’

'Never. I'll bring wine.'

'How about Man-Breast?' she said, turning her head.

'Who me?' Savage said.

'Not you.' Echo shook her head. 'You haven't ingratiated yourself into the clique yet. We don't even know if you're single?

'His name's John Savage,' Max said. 'Are you?'

'What?'

'Single?'

He thought about it. 'Very.'

'Did you hear that? Fresh meat for your grinder Echo?'

'Another notch for your bi-sexual bed post Max?'

The pen top flew back across the screens and hit the sleeping man in the mouth. Max and Echo cackled.

'Hunh?' the man said.

'Wake up Man-Breast,' Echo said. 'We're making dinner plans?'

The man's eyes sprang open.

'When?'

He blinked at Savage.

'Wednesday, you game?'

'Who are you?' Man-Breast said to Savage. 'Who is he? he said to Echo.

'John Savage. He's not coming. He's single but he hasn't proven himself yet.'

'Take my advice and don't,' the man said.

'What?' Echo yelped. 'You'd kill to jump these lovely bones.'

'Urrgh,' his face scrunched tight. 'Sure, okay, but you pay for the therapy afterwards.'

'Yeah, tell it to the pixies.'

'The what?' Savage said.

'Apparently, I thought pixies were real at one point in my life. I was young, I knew no better.'

'It was last week,' Max said.

'You were locked in the cupboard after a week-long binge with your clients,' Echo said. 'Admit it. You were hiding. The pixies were chasing you.'

The man rolled his eyes, 'Don't believe everything you hear John. Are you coming? With three men there we might have some chance against that witch behind the screen.'

Savage joined in the laughter, enjoying himself.

'I'd love to come, guess I'll bring wine too?'

'John Savage?' Max said. 'Wasn't the guy who killed that trader years ago called Savage?'

'Apparently there was no connection,' Savage said.

'John Savage?' Man-breast said. 'Yeah, that's you. The killer. Wow.'

Savage's chest tightened at the silence. A woman further up the line tapped Man-Breast on the shoulder, 'Who is it?' she said.

The word killer travelled up the line. Savage pulled himself upright and looked directly at the screen. Avoiding everybody's gaze.

'Is it true?' Echo said.

She recoiled from his glare. Say the word and out they came. The wings of fury. People recoiled when their back-draft touched.

He reached for his gun, then, empty handed, logged out and turned the screen off.

His reflection glared back from the dark monitor. He yanked the USB stick out. Max grabbed his arm.

'Are you okay?'

Savage willed the man to remove his hand before he did something rash.

'I'm fine,' he said and pulled away. He felt eyes watch him all the way to the lift door.

And he knew he lied.

*

The man picked up on the second ring, 'What?'

Echo watched Savage waiting for the lift to arrive, he looked as if he might burst out of his skin at any moment. Cute butt though.

'And hello to you too,' she said. 'Guess which skeleton just jumped out of the closet.'