The Housewife Assassin's Killer App (7 page)

Ryan nods. “Thanks for that, Dominic.”

The next clue says:
What a funny watch! It tells the day of the month, and doesn't tell what o'clock it is!
 

“Alice, of course,” Dominic says, matter-of-factly. This knowledge earns him a few grudging nods.

“Here’s the final clue,” Ryan says, as it appears on the wall:
Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it.

“This quote is directly from the Duchess,” Dominic declares.

I notice that a couple of fivers are handed around. Those who get them must have bet correctly that Dominic could go three for three.

Emma pats him on the shoulder. “How did you do that?”
 

Dominic shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Every student at Ludgrove has memorized the entire text of
Alice in Wonderland
by his second year.”

“Ludgrove? What?…And all this time, I thought you’d gone to Hogwarts,” Arnie mutters. He turns to Emma. “Isn’t that what you told me?”

She sighs. “I didn’t have the heart to tell you Hogwarts isn’t a real place.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure Princes William and Harry were also disappointed,” Dominic sniffs. "But they got over it soon enough. As is the case with the rest of Ludgrove’s alumni, eventually they learned to appreciate its academic excellence sans wands and motorized broomsticks. What one must tolerate if the swish of ermine and the rattle of sabers is in one’s blood.”

“Back to the matter at hand, please.” Ryan scowls, warning them that he’s got a lot more to say. “We are now also aware that government contractors with access to these files were hacked as well.”

Dominic raises his hand. “Does that include Acme?”

A ghost of a smile rises on Ryan’s lips. “As a matter of fact, we are the only contractor who wasn’t infiltrated. I attribute that to two things. I’m sure we’re on the hacker’s radar, but Arnie Locklear’s crackerjack intrusion software, doubled with his other tech security initiatives, have kept us safe. The second is that Acme had nothing to do with the IC projects with access to the breached data files.”

For once, Carl’s hatred of his old employer has done us a favor.

“That being said, POTUS feels that Acme is the logical choice to conduct the security audit. It’ll be all hands on deck. Finding the perpetrator assures Acme’s status in the intelligence community will once again be second to none.”

“Yet one more thing that puts Carl on POTUS’s shit list,” I murmur to Jack.

“Don’t kid yourself,” he mutters back. “They’ve got some sort of bromance going on.”
 

I hold up a finger to my lips, to shush him.
 

He must have noticed that it’s my middle finger, because he snorts.

Abu raises his hand. “Ryan, is there any reason to believe it may be an inside job—say, a disillusioned government employee, or a government contractor with security clearance?”

Or more to the point, the IC director himself, since his own ties to the Quorum are still very much in question.

Ryan shakes his head. “Good question. In answer to the first scenario, our illustrious intelligence director insists not, but we won’t presume anything. Anyone could be the Mad Hacker. Of course, Director Stone would prefer the second scenario. In fact, if the culprit was found here at Acme, it would make his day.”

An uneasy chuckle can be heard through the room, but no one is really laughing. Ryan’s answer has bound us to a singular mission: to prove our former colleague and current nemesis wrong.

Ryan nods toward Arnie and Emma. Both begin to make their way through the room, distributing the stacks of file folders in their hands.

“Each and every one of us in this room is to play an important role in assessing the damage, and identifying the hacker. The majority of you—those working in tech-ops and systems analysis—will report to Arnie Locklear. You’ll be placed on a team with specific audit duties, such as looking for security exploits—bugs, viruses and Trojans—packet sniffing, or doing rootkit detection. Your team’s mandates are spelled out to you in your individual mission folders.” Ryan scans the faces in front of him. “The rest of you will be conducting personnel interviews, suspect interrogations and persons-of-interest investigations—all of which will be coordinated by Jack Craig. Here at Acme headquarters, Emma Honeycutt will be heading up the cyphering team, which will work here at Acme headquarters on the three original riddles left by the Mad Hacker in the IC database.”
 

Ryan passes out mission folders. Everyone gets one but me.

Noticing this, Jack murmurs, “Whatever we find is going to rattle Carl’s cage, so Ryan is smart to keep you out of this.”

I’m just about to come clean to him about my role in all this when Ryan adds, “This mission’s leader is Donna Stone. Any and all questions should be addressed to her. Take the next half-hour to look at your files. Afterward, we’ll meet back here. At that point, you can address your questions to Donna and your team leaders.”

Jack’s eyes open wide. His head turns my way, and his stare says it all:
You knew about this?

“I can explain,” I start.

Jack shakes his head. He doesn’t wait for me, but heads toward the front door.

I start to run after him so that I can pull him aside and remind him what he told me—that he trusts me—but I can’t get to him because suddenly I’m surrounded by other Acme operatives. They pat me on the back and congratulate me for this plum assignment. Even those who haven’t worked with me before know me by reputation, or my personal history. It’s why they’re pledging their all—body and soul—to make our mission a success.

They will never forget Carl’s disloyalty—not just to Acme but to our country as well.

They want to take Carl down too. And I’m their fearless leader.

Hmmm…well…

In any regard, I’m their leader.

By the time I make it to the lobby, Jack’s Lamborghini is already pulling out of the parking lot. Damn it, what does he expect me to do, walk home?

Seeing Dominic, I wave him down. “After the audit debriefing, do you think you can give me a lift?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, old girl. Afterward, I’m heading to my new private club.”

I raise a brow. “Oh? Which one? Déjà Vu? The Spearmint Rhino? Plan B?” These are all strip clubs, and there’s nothing private about them—unless you’re willing to hand over a Benjamin in order to get a private room and a dancer who’ll warm your lap for you.

“I’ve been accepted into the Grand Havana,” he sniffs.
 

That’s about his speed. Cigars, an overpriced menu, and a mediocre wine list—not to mention some of the most gorgeous women in LA, whose job is to make its power ranger members forget that they’re upping their odds for throat cancer every time they walk into the joint.

Maybe Arnie and Emma won’t mind taking me home. I find them standing in a cubicle by the window. Their backs are turned to me. When I get closer, I hear why—they’re in the middle of a very heated discussion.
 

I’m about to walk away when Arnie turns and sees me. “Donna, do you need me?” He sounds so desperate. I guess, at this point, he’d do anything to avoid Emma’s bad mood. Emma’s hormones have her swinging like a pendulum—not a good thing for a woman who is naturally acerbic anyway. To top it off, she isn’t taking well to the physical changes that come with pregnancy. Not only are her cravings crazy (pickles? Forget about it! Try chicken apple sausages, beets, and mango sherbet), she’s frustrated that she can no longer squeeze into her tight low-slung jeans.

Been there, felt that.

“I hate to ask, but Jack took off already, and I was wondering if you’d be kind enough to give me a ride home after the briefing.”

“Oh, Donna, sorry, but we can’t because we came on my bike.” Emma’s wheels are a Brutale 800 Dragster.

Suddenly, Arnie is all smiles. “As a matter of fact, we can.” He turns to Emma. “I was going to save it as a surprise. But hey, now’s as good a time as any.” He reaches into his pocket, takes out a car key, and dangles it in front of her. “Sweetie, this is for you.”

Emma stares down at it. “What is it, exactly?”

“The key to your new car! I bought you a Yukon Denali XL hybrid.” He points out to the parking lot. The SUV is in the front row: black and gorgeous. “It’s fully loaded,” he says proudly. “Four-wheel drive with a V8 engine, coil-over shocks, multilink rear suspension—I even got it with bullet-proof glass.”

Emma’s eyes narrow. “You got me
a mommy mobile?
”
 

His smile fades. “Em, sweetie, it’s not as if you can slap a baby seat on the back of your motorcycle. I don’t think California law allows for that.”

Emma lets that sink in. Then she starts to hyperventilate. As she bursts into tears, she slaps the keys out of his hands and storms off.

Arnie turns to me. “What did I do now?”

I don’t want to tell him that I think the Yukon was a bad idea, especially when it’s my dream car, and especially since it’s my ride home.

It’s ten o’clock at night by the time I get back to the house. Thank goodness Arnie is too morose about Emma’s reaction to be much of a conversationalist. However, when I jump out of the car, he asks, “It gets better, right?”

I pat his hand. “Yes. But, Arnie, take my advice—let Emma grow into the role of mother.”

He gulps. “What if she doesn’t?”

“Trust me, she will—starting with the very first time she holds her child in her arms.”

“That’s a relief. Still, I don’t think it will change how she feels about me.” His head is weighted by this thought.

Arnie loves Emma. And yes, at first, he was hurt that he wasn’t the father of her child. That honor goes to Reed Horwitch, an actor who seduced her while she and the rest of our Acme team was undercover with a film crew while trying to clear our names from Interpol’s Most Wanted List.

At the time, we all needed some diversions to get our minds off our situation. Unfortunately for Emma, she now has a constant reminder of that very anxious time in our lives.

Despite Arnie’s heartbreak over her affair, he’s embraced the idea of parenthood with open arms.
 

When he pulls a tiny velvet ring box out of the Denali’s glove compartment, I realize just how badly he wants Emma to accept him—not only as the father of her child, but as her husband.

I open it slowly. What’s inside makes me gasp. “Arnie! This is…beautiful!” The diamond, at least a carat, is placed on an angle in its platinum setting. The companion ring, a man’s, is angled in the opposite direction. So that when the wearers’ palms touch, the rings’ surfaces fit like two pieces of a puzzle.

He blushes. “I designed it myself. I was going to give it to her tonight, after she took the car for its first spin around town. But now…” He stares down at it. When I hand it to him, he tosses it back in the glove compartment.

I pat his arm. “She’s got a lot on her mind. Bide your time. Let her tell you when it’s right.”
 

He nods, but his eyes are clouded with doubt.
 

I know what he’s wondering:
how long will I have to wait until she accepts me?

I watch as he pulls away from the curb. For his sake, I hope Emma has calmed down by the time he gets home.

For my sake, I hope Jack has forgiven me too.