Job Hunt (11 page)

Hot seat, definitely, Jack decided. At least she wasn’t beating around the bush. “I don’t list blackmail as one of my specialties.”

Alexandra Marston’s smile lit her face from within, like the glow of a candle lights a stained-glass window on a dark night. Jack loved the expression, and it drew a smile from him in return. “It’s part of my preparation,” he offered. “I see no point in applying to a company that does not need my skills.”

“You made your decision where to apply based on whether the company needed your skills?”

Jack nodded. “It was one of my criteria, yes.”

“May I ask what other criteria you applied?”

“Integrity, cash flow, reputation, ethics, corporate policies, type and nature of competition, short- and long-term threat level,” Jack recited in an almost bored voice. Then he sat back and waited for it.

Marston busied herself making notes on a pad. She used a type of shorthand Jack couldn’t decipher from his position, but then she listed the criteria he had just recited in plain script. “You realize you’ve already broken one of those corporate policies.”

“I’m not an employee of Nancarrow Mining… yet.”

Jack pushed his back more securely into the armchair and relaxed his posture on a breath. This was the second time Marston had tried to rile him. A hint of accusation followed by a veiled threat. No doubt the third attack would be the charm. Jack stopped himself from folding his arms across his chest as if he needed protection. His fingers wanted to tap on the arms of the chair to distract his mind, but he kept them in his lap, unmoving. He waited, breathing slowly and taking comfort from the silence as he had been trained to do.

“Do you frequently break the law, Dr. Horwood?”

An unexpected moment of respite.
Very smart.
Jack was severely tempted to let his sense of mischief take over. Just for a moment or two, to see if he could shock this woman with the gorgeous smile and mind like a spymaster into losing her footing on that tightrope they both balanced on. It was an appealing thought, but prudence won in the end. Prudence and a sense of duty.

“You’re aware of my employment history, ma’am. So you have to be aware of the fact that I am not at liberty to discuss any of it.”

Not that he would have wanted to discuss his past even if he’d been at liberty to do so. The few people who knew did so because they’d seen him at work. Talking about himself had never been Jack’s way. Though why that thought produced an image of Gareth standing on his doorstep and staring at Jack from wide amber eyes in which shock and heat mixed most effectively….

Returning his focus to the conversation took effort. Marston was smiling at him, but this time, the smile was nothing more than a tiny curl of lip, and Jack braced himself.

“What is your association with Gareth Flynn?”

Bingo.

“He was my commanding officer while I served in the army.”

More illegible notes blossomed on Marston’s pad. The woman wrote and wrote as if Jack’s succinct answer demanded a lengthy commentary. Jack was sure his voice and body language were perfect. She was baiting him. She had to be.

“Does he know you well?”

“Yes.”
Too well, perhaps. Or not well enough if he thinks I need an impromptu psych eval.

“Were you aware that Gareth headed our corporate security division when you applied to Nancarrow Mining?”

Jack let himself smile as he remembered the moment Gareth had walked back into his life. Three days ago that had been. And now everything had changed. “I had no idea.”

A knock on the door announced a tray of coffee. Jack accepted a cup with a grateful bow of his head, understanding that the preliminary skirmish was done. The teasing encounter was over. What came next was serious business, and Marston wasn’t hanging around.

“I would like to understand the reasons for your initial refusal to accept this position. And how your involvement in an ongoing police investigation will affect your work for Nancarrow Mining.”

C
HAPTER
NINE
S
ECURITY
L
EAKS
AND
O
THER
G
AMES

J
ACK
MADE
his way to Gareth’s office two hours later. Activity in the building had died down while he evaded Alexandra Marston’s carefully chosen personal questions and answered all work-related ones. Most employees had taken advantage of the fine weather and the chance to leave early on a Friday afternoon, and the almost empty corridors and open-plan offices breathed calm and tranquility. The low hum of electronics on standby, of processor cooling fans and air conditioning, reminded Jack of long, quiet nights huddled over screens and keyboard, chasing trails too faint to follow in the daytime. It was work he loved and work he looked forward to spending time doing once more.

He passed his new desk, fingers caressing the smooth wood. Four flat screens now lined the top edge of the solid oak board, ready to form a near seamless wall of images, and a low profile keyboard and graphics tablet with stylus took up the space in the center. Only the heart of the setup was missing and, seeing how quickly Frazer had started implementing the plans they’d made this morning, Jack was certain that he’d have most of the requested gear by Monday.

Donald Frazer was as much fun to work with as Jack had thought he’d be when they met during his interview. They held similar views on technology, and before Jack had been dragged off to his meeting with the HR manager, he’d watched Frazer deal with an attempted break-in in a way that commanded his admiration. The Scot was quick, decisive, and did neat work.

“Come in and grab a seat,” Gareth instructed when Jack popped his head around the door of Gareth’s office. “I’m almost done.”

Gareth had his nose buried in a stack of financial-looking forms, pen moving swiftly across the page. It was a side of Gareth that Jack hadn’t seen before, and the fact that the man sat meekly filling forms, and looked like an accountant doing so, only added to Jack’s good mood. He closed the door and wandered across the expanse of pale carpet toward the windows.

“Wow,” he huffed as he fell into one of the armchairs and stretched his long legs toward the lemon tree growing in a deep blue metal container. “That last one had claws and teeth and a mind that wouldn’t be out of place over there.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the MI6 building along the river.

Gareth looked up from the form he was filling out. “Marston? She’s ex-MI6, just like you. I think she still consults at times.”

“Right.” Jack swiveled his head and contemplated the view. He shuddered at the idea of consulting for his old firm and wondered where in the huge organization Alex Marston would have worked. Their little battle of wills had been entertaining. Marston had been trained in interrogation, but Jack knew from experience that not everyone who’d had the training was actually any good at the job. Marston had that steel-trap mind that characterized the best interrogators, and she’d shown just enough flexibility to make Jack think she might be truly outstanding. Added to that, Alex Marston had access to classified information, even now when she worked for Nancarrow Mining.

“You are currently involved in a police investigation.”

She’d been profiling him during their discussion. Her cryptic writings hinted as much, as did the abrupt switches in topic. The schema she used to question him hadn’t been familiar, but Jack didn’t tend to stick to the standard ones when he worked either. And despite all the games and challenges, Marston’s had been a comforting presence, a vibe that something in Jack responded to however much she pushed him out of his comfort zone.

“I like her,” he decided, startled from his contemplation when Gareth barked a laugh.

“You’d better. Alexandra Marston is someone you want to keep on your side in a fight. Just like Julian Nancarrow.” He rose and shuffled the papers into a neat stack. “Are you ready to sign your life away?”

“If that’s what you want? Sure.” Jack grinned, stretching suggestively as he stood just to yank Gareth’s chain. “I had no idea you’d let me spec my own equipment, so the way I see it—I owe you.”

“If I had known how much you were going to spend,” Gareth huffed, “I would have set a budget.”

“Ah.” Jack waved the complaint away. “Frazer’s a Scot, so he’ll haggle. And when he’s done, my setup is gonna be epic!”

“It better be.” And with that Gareth was right there in Jack’s space. Jack shivered at the sudden warm touch to his nape. Rough calluses dragged on his sensitive skin, sending sparks down his spine. Then Gareth’s mouth closed over Jack’s, hard and hungry and all too brief. “Let’s get this done,” Gareth ordered before Jack had a chance to complain about the unexpected attack or its brevity. “We have a weekend starting straight after.”

A
FTER
YEARS
of barracks, student digs, and plain, utilitarian office furniture in various shades of Whitehall Ugly, the stylish interior design of the Nancarrow Mining HQ had attracted Jack’s attention long before he ever thought of applying to the company. He liked the idea of working in a building where grandiose Victorian architecture blended with glass and muted colors, with real wood and flowering plants, with specimen minerals and well-chosen art.

His introductory tour that morning, courtesy of Gareth, had confirmed that the whole building was as impressive as the lobby and visitor area. Each floor had its own distinctive style from colors and carpets to the type of art that was on display on the walls and in glass cabinets in the corridors. To crown it all a basement equipped with dojo, gym, sauna and core store packed full of rock samples was augmented by a ground floor cafeteria that didn’t just serve home-cooked food and freshly baked pastries, but hand-roasted Arabica coffee in proper china cups.

Earlier in the week, during his interview, Jack had thought the coffee machine in the corporate security office dispensed liquid gold compared to the sludge produced by the office vending machines he was accustomed to but this… coffee that smelled and tasted as if someone had taken care and time to make it… this was a workaholic’s dream of heaven.

The enticing smell of freshly roasted coffee beans also permeated the executive floor as Jack followed Gareth out of the stairwell and through the double doors toward Julian Nancarrow’s corner office. Judging by the empty desks, the CEO’s support staff had already left, but the door at the far end of the room stood open and a rich baritone invited them to enter.

Jack felt a sudden need to apologize for his presence as the CEO of Nancarrow Mining stepped around his desk and moved toward the center of the room to greet them. He’d seen photographs of Julian Nancarrow, of course he had, but none of them conveyed the fact that the mining tycoon looked like he’d be at home on a catwalk.

Since it was Friday, the man wore fitted black slacks and an open-necked cobalt shirt, but somehow Julian Nancarrow looked more formal than Jack could manage in a three-piece. Fortunately there wasn’t much formality about his greeting.

“I’m Julian Nancarrow,” the mining tycoon introduced himself as he held out a hand.

“Jack Horwood,” Jack replied, cheered by the firm handshake and lack of posturing. It was plain refreshing.

They moved to the group of armchairs by the window, and Jack had a moment to look around the executive office, take in the pale blue-gray walls complemented by carpets that were the shade of a thunderstorm. Nancarrow Mining’s CEO appeared to prefer traditional materials—the top of his desk was a slab of solid oak, at least an inch and a half thick and stained the deep Georgian brown Jack had used on the wooden beams of his first home. The styling of the room was entirely modern, though, the dark wood tempered by smoky, chrome-framed glass and a huge collection of rocks. They were simply everywhere: on Julian Nancarrow’s desk, under bright spotlights in glass cases, on the low coffee table… samples and specimens both.

During the day Jack had begun to classify parts of the building by greenery. Flowers in Marston’s domain, bamboo arrangements in HR, citrus trees and herbs in the corporate security division… so it struck him as curious that Julian Nancarrow’s spacious office didn’t hold a single plant. Jack was reminded of his best friend and the rooms they’d shared as postgrads.
I’m away so often, plants’ll only die
, Tom used to say.
I’d rather admire them in situ.

Jack wondered if Julian Nancarrow would express similar sentiments if asked.

“What made you suspect our network security needed improving?” Julian queried once they were seated, and Jack felt his lips turn up at the corners.

“Rumors, mostly.”

“Expand on that, please. What kind of rumors?”

The request came smoothly, and Jack thought about his answer, considering facts he could reveal and details he couldn’t. “I noticed commonalities in takeover bids that have been made for Nancarrow Mining and other companies in a variety of sectors,” he said slowly. “Eventually, I came up with a list of… likely targets, if you will.”

“And we were on that list?”

“Yes, sir.”

Eyebrows twitched, so slightly that Jack would have missed the tiny movement if he hadn’t watched for it. Lips tightened by a fraction, and the expressive gray eyes darkened in an emotion Jack took for frustration.

“I will let Gareth explain the particulars of our specific situation,” Julian said after a moment. “I will not bother you for information you are not at liberty to provide, but I expect you to make sure we are as protected from attacks as we can be. I want to be kept informed about your progress and any threats you discover from here on out.”

The last instruction was clearly directed at both of them, and Jack watched Gareth nod in agreement. “Jack’s first job will be to isolate that leak.”

“You said it is no longer hurting us.”

“It’s not, but I still want it shut down, and I want to know who’s behind it.”