No One to Trust Read online

  “Since when have you cared about a social stigma, or for that matter, even been aware of one? Finn is smart, single, gorgeous and a really nice guy. Any female with a pulse would want to date him. To hell with stigmas. Lucky for you, he’s interested. Go out with him, have fun. Lighten up.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Of course, I’m right. Now where are you going on this first official date?”

  “A fundraiser for Irish artists or something like that.”

  “Ooooh, classy. What are you going to wear?”

  My stomach dropped to my toes. “Wear? My red dress, I guess.” It was actually my only dress.

  She rolled her eyes. “You don’t just wear a dress to a fundraiser. You wear an evening gown.”

  Panic grabbed me by the throat. “Gown? I don’t have an evening gown.”

  “You’d better get one by tomorrow night.”

  I felt sick. “Tomorrow? How am I going to do that?”

  “Go shopping?”

  I chewed my thumbnail. “Forget it. I can’t do this. I’ll just cancel. Dating is too stressful.”

  Basia leaned over and slapped my thumb out of my mouth. “It is not too stressful. It just requires shopping. Lucky for you, I’m an expert at shopping.”

  “You’ll help me?”

  “Of course.”

  I blew out a deep breath. “I owe you.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  I rubbed my cheeks with my fingers. “Jeez, now I’m completely freaked out and I don’t have time to panic about this.”

  “Why not?”

  I quickly filled her in on what had happened at the meeting.

  Her mouth fell open in shock. “Your name was in the note?”

  “Yep. It said ‘SOS. Need Lexi Carmichael’s help. GU.’”

  “What’s the GU stand for? Georgetown University?”

  “That’s the most logical explanation. Apparently Darren went to GU the same years as we did. I’m hoping you’ll remember him.” Basia and I had been roommates at Georgetown, and she might recognize him from somewhere. I slid the photo across my desk.

  “I don’t know. He seems vaguely familiar. But since he’s kind of ordinary-looking, that may not mean anything significant.”

  “Great. That’s a lot of help.”

  She put the photo back on my desk. “No need to get snippy. You apparently didn’t recognize him either.”

  I rubbed my temples. “I know. I’m sorry. It was just kind of a shock, you know, seeing my name in a note from a guy I don’t even know. What if he’s some kind of wacko stalker or something?”

  Basia snorted. “Look at that guy. A stalker? I don’t think so. A good wind would blow him over.”

  “Sometimes the quiet and unassuming ones are the worst psychos of all.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. There must be something else. Let’s brainstorm.”

  “Okay. Where do we start?”

  “With the obvious connection. Georgetown University. Can we find out whether he lived on campus or not? Maybe he lived in our dormitory and admired you from a distance.”

  “No one has ever admired me, from a distance or otherwise.”

  “You are so wrong. But this is not the time to get into that.”

  I sighed. “Okay. Finn will probably come back with the dorm information. He’s going to try and reach Michael Hart’s father. If the two boys were roommates at Georgetown, Finn should be able to find out. But what’s my connection to Darren? If he did admire me from a distance, why wait three years after graduation to contact me, and why in such a weird way?”

  Basia shrugged. “Who knows what lurks in the eccentric mind? But you have a good point. Maybe he saw you again recently and it reignited the crush. What might you have done lately that put you in contact with him?”

  “I don’t have a clue. As far as I know he had no contact with the NSA, although I suppose I could use my sources to find out if he ever wanted to apply. But it seems to me that his lifelong dream was founding Flow Technologies with Michael Hart—not joining the NSA.”

  Basia thought for a moment. “All right, then let’s go back to the Georgetown correlation. It’s the only obvious one we have. Might he have been in one of your classes?”

  “I don’t see why not. We were both science majors and had required courses to fill. But I’m sure I would remember if I had ever worked on any project with him.”

  “So what we really need is to get a peek at his school records.”

  “How? The university won’t release them without a subpoena.”

  She lifted her eyebrow. “You don’t need a subpoena.”

  “Oh, no. I am not hacking into his university records. I like this job and I’ve got to do it by legal means.”

  “I know. But it would be helpful if we could see them.”

  “I’ll figure out something else.”

  “Well, whatever you figure out will have to wait until after our shopping excursion tonight.”

  I felt my blood drain from my face. “Shopping excursion?”

  “The gown, remember?”

  “Um, I thought maybe you’d pick one up for me.”

  She snorted. “Not a chance. You have to try them on and check the fit. Meet you in the food court at seven,” she said and left my office.

  “Crap,” I muttered as I turned back to the computer. Shopping for an evening gown sounded as appealing as a root canal, but since Basia was the fashion expert, I had to at least be game.

  But it didn’t mean I had to be happy.

  Chapter 3

  For the rest of the day I remained holed up in my office, skimming through Darren Greening’s online undergraduate papers and racking my brain to see if I could come up with any connection to this guy. It soon became apparent I needed to conduct a more thorough search and I knew just the guys to do it.

  I left my office and stopped at the cubicle of the first of my two employees, Kenji Kurisu. Ken is a Japanese-American kid fresh out of Virginia Tech with a degree in computer science and a specialty in intelligence security and protection. He’d been the first person I’d interviewed for X-Corp and I’d liked him right off the bat. Unfortunately, he’d only been in the office for a week and I suspected he was bored. My new assignment probably wouldn’t perk him up much, but it was better than nothing.

  “Hey, Ken. I’ve got a little something for you to do, if you’re not busy.”

  He was reading the latest computer news at NetSecurity.org. “Please, boss. Give me anything to do.”

  I told him to dig around about Darren and Michael. He didn’t look thrilled to pieces at the assignment, but with nothing better to do, he started right in on the job. Just to show I wasn’t playing favorites, I gave the same assignment to my other employee, Jay Telles. Jay was a quiet, chunky guy with acne and a rap sheet for hacking. Since I’d done my share of hacking before becoming legit, I didn’t hold this against him. After our interview, it was clear he knew his stuff and then some. He didn’t say much, but not being much of a people person myself, that was a plus in my book.

  After giving Jay his assignment, I returned to my office and continued to zoom around the net. I wanted to check out some possible chat rooms where a guy like Darren might hang out. I visited a slew of websites that seemed promising, making a mental note to check some of them out more thoroughly later. By the end of the day I was exhausted and had had two dozen emails from Ken and Jay. I’d go through them when I got home. But first, I wanted to make a quick detour to visit the Zimmerman twins. No one knew technology better than they did and I wanted to bounce some thoughts off their genius brains.

  At about five-thirty, I packed things up and headed for the office stairwell. While climbing down the seven flights of stairs toward the garage, I congratulated myself on foregoing the elevator and renewing my commitment to improved stamina and health. I entered the garage and headed toward my car when, out of nowhere, someone grabbed me from behind, clamping a gloved hand ove
r my mouth. He dragged me behind one of the concrete pillars.

  I kicked, scratched and fought like a wildcat on drugs, but the guy was like a pillar himself, completely unmovable.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” The voice was deep, male. But I didn’t stop until he twisted my neck in a very uncomfortable way. “I can snap it with no effort. I’d advise you to hold still so I don’t do it by accident.”

  “Amhogurgsill,” I garbled.

  “Huh?” he said, but the pressure on my neck eased.

  I sucked in a deep breath. “I said I’m holding still. Obviously I’m in no shape to fight you.”

  He snorted. “No kidding. That was a pretty pathetic attempt to escape. You need to get more exercise.”

  Okay. Time to humor the bad guy. “Um, I just took the stairs instead of the elevator.”

  “Cardio isn’t enough. Try strength training. A woman your size should be able to bench press about thirty pounds. It especially works the upper arms and biceps. Great for helping you get out of situations like this.”

  “Thanks, but I think I get enough exercise just pressing my luck.”

  That apparently reminded him of why he’d grabbed me because his grip tightened again.

  “Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guy. I’m going to ask you a question. If you answer quietly and correctly, you get to live. Understood?”

  I nodded as gingerly as I could.

  “Where is Darren Greening?”

  I gulped. “This is about Darren Greening?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “I don’t know where he is.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” he growled.

  “I’m not lying. I mean it. I don’t even know Darren Greening.”

  “Tell me or I’ll kill you.”

  Oh, God. Why wasn’t anyone else coming into the garage? It was five-fricking-thirty. Didn’t anyone keep regular hours these days?

  My breath hitched in my throat. “I swear. I don’t know my connection to him. I’m certain I’ve never met him. We went to Georgetown University at the same time, but that’s it. I’m trying to figure it out myself. Honest.”

  I closed my eyes and waited. To my enormous relief, the grip around my neck disappeared.

  “You’d better be telling the truth. If I find out you’ve been lying to me…” He made a horrid hissing sound like something getting sliced across the neck. I gulped. Loudly.

  He pushed me into the pillar and walked away. I stood shaking, turning around just in time to see a very large dark-clad form disappear into the stairwell.

  I hugged myself, breathing in and out until I was pretty sure I could walk without collapsing. I wanted to call the police, but I didn’t have reception in the garage basement. I thought about going back to the office to tell Finn what happened, but that would require following Neck-Snapping Man into the stairwell. Not a good plan either. I could wait for the elevator, but that meant standing next to the stairwell where Neck-Snapping Man might reappear after changing his mind and coming back to finish me off.

  Hell no.

  Half stumbling, half running, I retrieved my briefcase and made it to my car. My hands were shaking so bad, I could hardly press the key button to unlock it. Once inside, I locked the doors and put my head on the steering wheel. I willed my breathing to slow and then started the ignition.

  After I pulled out of the garage and into rush-hour traffic, I took out my cell phone and called Finn. It went right to voice mail which meant he was probably on the phone. I left him a short message about what had happened. Five minutes later he called me back.

  “Jesus, Lexi, are you all right?” he asked before I could even say hello. “Where are you?”

  “I’m fine. Just shaken up a bit. I’m in the car on my way home.”

  “I’ve already contacted building security and the police. What the hell is going on?”

  “Looks like we aren’t the only ones anxious to find Darren Greening.” I quickly filled him in on my exchange with the thug.

  He swore. “I’d never have taken this case if I’d known it would put you in danger.”

  My heart warmed at the concern in his voice. “It’s okay, Finn. How could you know? I’m fine, really. I think it was just information he was after.”

  “You didn’t get a look at him?”

  “No, he came at me from behind. But he had a slight accent.”

  “Accent?”

  “Yes. I couldn’t place it, though. Slavic, I think.”

  A loud noise cut off part of Finn’s reply and then I heard, “Lexi, the police are here. They’ll want to talk to you.”

  “Can I talk to them in the morning? I’ve already told you everything I know.”

  “Hold on. I’ll ask.”

  He spoke to someone and then came back. “They said it’s okay. Building security already made a thorough sweep and the guy is long gone. Since you didn’t get a good look at him, I suppose there’s not much they can do at this point anyway.”

  We talked for a few more minutes before I signed off. I had calmed down significantly now that I knew my death wasn’t imminent. Still, I drove carefully, heading north toward my apartment in the small but loveable town of Jessup, Maryland.

  I had rented the apartment several years ago because it was close to the NSA and it had a Dunkin’ Donuts nearby. I could live without a garden or a garage, but in my book, a Dunkin’ Donuts is a critical amenity. Now that I work in Crystal City, Virginia, the commute is a real bitch. But I don’t want to move just yet. Not until I’m certain this whole new job thing will work out. Frankly, after today’s events, things weren’t looking that promising for me.

  I’m an insecure and cautious person by nature. That means I find security living close to my only other friends in the world, my neighbor Jan Walton and the Zimmerman twins—the genius computer security architects of most of the government’s important systems.

  I remembered I’d been heading to their house after I’d left work, so I made a turn a couple of streets earlier than mine. Xavier and Elvis probably made more money than the entire population of Jessup put together, but still live in the same old house they’d bought when they were starting out as computer nerds at the NSA. Now they are employed by ComQuest in Baltimore and work out of their house. The twins prefer to work in isolation, and the big wigs at ComQuest are so thrilled to have their genius at their disposal that they basically let them do whatever they want, wherever they want to do it.

  The twins and I met at the National Security Agency and they took an instant liking to me, probably because I was the only person they knew who could beat them at Quake. I also play a decent game of pool—a game they adore—and we’re all crazy about anchovies on pizza. Apparently that’s the only criteria they have for friends, since this odd combination was enough to make me a kindred spirit.

  I parked the car and walked up to the door. Ringing the bell, I waited until Xavier opened the door. He was tall and slender with dark brown hair, sharp blue eyes and nice, elegant hacker hands.

  “Hey, Lexi.” I saw his eyes light up. Then he glanced over my shoulder. “Did you come alone?”

  Xavier had a serious crush on Basia. He had probably hoped she had come with me. “Sorry,” I said. “Just me.”

  He shrugged. “No problem. Come on in.”

  I stepped across the threshold, into the foyer and automatically walked to the left where the twins had converted a living and dining room area into what they called their operations center. Although frugal in other areas of their lives, they owned only spectacular, state-of-the-art computer equipment that left me salivating every time I visited.

  The décor of the room consisted of a myriad of wires snaking across the floor, wedged beneath tables and hanging from the ceiling. No paintings, no artwork—just high-tech interior design.

  More than three dozen computers sat on several long custom-made tables. All the computers had at least two monitors. In one corner stood the twins’ Linux cluster of thirty
-two computers that they used to break encryption and do serious number crunching. To the right of that cluster was an area with just laptops—some wired, some not—all running different systems in order to test and simulate a variety of software.

  The room was arctic cold with a special-ordered air-conditioning unit running twenty-four hours a day. I always froze my buns off when I came to their house until they’d started keeping a blanket handy just for me. I saw it draped over the back of one of the chairs.

  The twins had their work spaces in separate corners of the room. Xavier’s desk was covered with papers, manuals, cables, various pieces of hardware and tons of small sticky notes stuck to every available surface. Elvis’s area stood in sharp contrast to Xavier’s mess. Several reference manuals sat neatly stacked on a shelf across the top, along with a pile of files, all labeled. His computer played a screen saver that showed the Star Trek Enterprise in a battle with a Klingon War Ship. But his chair was empty.

  That sucked. I adored both of the twins, but Elvis and I were more in sync in terms of life, computers and chocolate. We both floundered with social conversation, lived on our computers and had an eternal commitment to crème-filled éclairs and Belgian truffles. How cool was that?

  “So, where’s Elvis?” I asked.

  Xavier jerked his head upstairs. “Taking a shower. Should be down momentarily.”

  My mood perked as I moved an empty pizza box from one of the swivel chairs and sat down. Several beer bottles littered the area under the chair. Glancing up, I saw the enormous plasma television that hung over the never-used fireplace was turned to the finance channel and muted. Market information scrolled across the bottom of the screen. This was interesting because I hadn’t realized the twins were interested in finance. They had an uncanny genius for just about every subject they tackled and if they had finance in their sights, I felt sorry for the global market.

  “Looks like you guys had a wild party.” I snatched up the blanket and swirled it around my shoulders. A party was bit surprising since the twins were about as adept as I at social events, which put in mathematical terms, equals less than zero. To my knowledge they’d never been to a party, let alone thrown one.