The War Gate (16 page)

This was the passion she had been looking for all along. The first time she felt wanted—safe in the arms of a man who desired her. She had become one with Sebastian, achieving that bond of trust. Now there was someone who would cherish her for however long it lasted. She never wanted it to end, and thought her heart could explode from the joy of it at any moment. He spoke to her after a moment of silence.

“Avy, I’m so damn in love with you I think I’m going to lose my mind.”

At those words, Avy cried. She’d never felt so happy in her life.

Chapter 11

His chief of security called him at three-thirty in the morning. Drake hopped in his Mercedes and made it down to the plant in thirty minutes flat, running three stop signs on the way. A break-in at Cyberflow was unheard of. No one had ever been caught trespassing or loitering on the property. His security outlay was horrendous, with one exception—he had kept minimal personnel on the graveyard shift to cut expenses. Now that he thought about it, he could kick his ass up around his neck for cutting that expense. He wondered if anything had been picked up on his security cameras. He felt certain he had one hundred percent surveillance on the property that covered all areas. Unless somebody had neglected to switch out the tapes. If that were the case, they wouldn’t have a job the next day.

He stormed into his office. Five security men were standing, one seated. The seated man held an ice bag to his forehead. Auggie gave the injured guard soothing shoulder pats.

Drake plopped in his high-back chair, glaring at the gathering. “Anybody who wasn’t an eye witness or who wasn’t directly involved, get out!”

The room cleared except for the seated man and the security chief. Drake looked at Auggie. “What happened to him?”

“He caught a couple of cat burglars on the third floor. One of the suspects threw some playing cards in his face. Nearly blinded him when they hit him in the eyes.”

Drake couldn’t resist. “Got dealt a bad hand, did you? Tell me it was aces and eights. Please tell me that, you fucking moron! You’re packing heat, right? You’re telling me some guy throws paper in your face and gets away? That’s what I pay you three-hundred a week for?”

“I’m sorry,” said the injured guard. “I had them cornered and was about to make an arrest. Then all of a sudden, I’m on the deck. You see, I was on my clock rounds shaking doors when I came upon your office. I discovered the door open. I went inside to find the copy machine running. I shut it off, locked the door from the inside, then stepped out into the hallway to have a smoke. A few minutes later, these two come creeping out of your office.”

“Who came creeping out?” asked Drake.

“A guy and a gal, I think. They were dressed in black, carrying sheaves of paper. I pulled my piece, then called for backup. The next thing I know, I’m laced up on the floor with my hand-held busted in pieces. The warehouse guard, Hildegard, found me ten minutes later. We did a sweep of the property, but found that the suspects had vacated the premises. With my eyes the way they were, I couldn’t see all that well anyway.”

Drake looked at his safe. A wave of nausea came over him. He hadn’t been in it for a few days, but did remember locking it with his last visit. He next thought about the desk drawers, wondering if they contained anything incriminating. The mixed company in the room prevented him from any cursory examination at the moment.

“I was wondering if I could be excused,” said the injured man.

“You’re excused for good,” said Drake. “You heard me. Don’t sit there with your mouth agape like a sea bass. Get your knees in the breeze. You’re finished at Cyberflow.”

The injured man, former security officer, past proud member of the Hollywood Mafia left the office, closing the door with a soft click.

Drake dialed the combination on his safe while Auggie looked on, a trickle of sweat running down his cheek. The CEO of Cyberflow opened the safe, then looked inside. Two rows of small cardboard boxes took up the back half of the safe, stacked to the top. In front of them lay sheaves of papers, folders, receipts, notes, and other spillage. He picked up his brown journal, and paged through it, not remembering if he had thrown it in or if it had been placed there with care. The thought that anyone had opened his safe to copy documents seemed ludicrous. Who would dare pull such a stunt?

Drake looked over his shoulder. “Why are you standing there with your thumb up your butt? Haven’t you got anything to say?”

Auggie took a few steps, handed him a photo printout that he pulled from his vest pocket. “I think this says it all, boss. It’s a little grainy, but one of our hallway cameras picked it up. You can draw your own conclusions, but with those wool caps removed, I think we can agree about the identity of those intruders. The  blond hair is a dead giveaway.”

Drake studied the photo, his fingers pinching it so hard it left smudges on its surface. He tossed it on his desk. “Okay, we know my daughter and that gutter trash magic man of hers was behind this. I just can’t figure out what they’re after.” Although he had a good idea why she was infiltrating his company. He believed it had everything to do with revenge for having thrown her out of his household. There had never been any love lost between them.

Drake sighed. He didn’t mean any offense to the girl, but the only way he could wipe her mother from his mind was to boot her. He had gotten so tired looking at her face day after day. It had brought back so many memories—haunted him, accused him. She’d been a pox on him ever since he’d signed the adoption papers. Well, no more. She’d stepped in it this time. She’d rue the day she ever put a knife in Drake Labrador’s back.

“I’m not going to put up with this harassment,” Drake said. He opened his desk drawers to forage through their contents. He slapped papers aside, wondering if he had left anything incriminating, something damaging to his company or his reputation. It was a crapshoot. Almost anything could be used against him if one knew what to look for. At the very least, a tax audit would sabotage him.

There were other skeletons in his closet that could never be allowed to surface into the bright light of judicial scrutiny. Right now, his mind spun with those horrific thoughts—thoughts that brought back very dark, ominous memories.

He found a ragged tear across his legal pad. He could not remember if he had ripped a sheet off or if other hands had removed it. He checked his waste pale. It was empty. He couldn’t remember. What had he written on the legal pad?

“If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Labrador,” said Auggie, “is there anything in particular that they might be after? Why would your own daughter be doing these things?”

“I do mind you asking,” said Drake, aware that he’d always told Auggie that he had adopted Avy. “It’s just been bad blood in the family. However, things have changed—she’s a thief now, demonstrated by her actions. You know how touchy I am about company business or security issues. I’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to sew this place up tight against entry. Now I’m faced with the realization that a couple of kids invaded our network, escaping with God knows what kind of sensitive tech data. I think they’re after copyrights or patents, groundbreaking stuff. We’re a leader in software. Who better to steal from? Maybe they’re moles for IBM.”

Drake was grasping, pitching shit pies against the wall, but it had the decided effect on his security chief, who now had panic etched on his face.

Drake put his arm around Auggie’s shoulder and stepped him out into the hallway. They walked like Siamese twins joined at the hip, with a slow, deliberate stride. Drake pulled on his chin, gearing up for one of his deliveries.

“It occurs to me now that if we don’t put a stop to this, our reputation as a secure facility will end up squat. This bug screams to be stepped on. We’re not in the position to let some juveniles run herd over this company unchecked, stealing security sensitive documents, committing assault and battery on our staff. This is a personal affront to me. I think we can deal with it without any probes or assistance from any external agencies. I’m just putting a couple of clear coats on this topic, if you understand my meaning.”

“Yes, sir. No cops. I can smell the varnish from here.”

“That’s good. Fear is a good motivator, a great deterrent. I don’t believe in violence, but I’m not against a show of force. Sending just the right message can rid us of this bogeyman. You’ve got to make them think it isn’t worth the effort. If they persist, well, things can get real messy—fast. You’ve just got to hit some people over the head with the proverbial stop sign.”

“Everybody has to obey the traffic signs, boss.”

“Fine. We know this astounding what’s-his-name has a magic act on Hillsborough Street. We know that his bitch might be very close at hand. I’m concerned with where this boy lays his head at night. His home base. A personal visit to his premises, accompanied by a clear message, should dissuade him from further violence. I’m not talking about any arm breaking or flying teeth—I wouldn’t lower myself to such tactics because it would make me no better than my oppressor. It would be even better if he were not home or near the premises.”

“Like a surprise visit,” Auggie said, obviously following the thread.

“That’s it. I’d leave a calling card, but nothing that could be traced back to Cyberflow. Random acts that never get solved happen all the time in Raleigh. No witnesses. That kind of stuff. Real swift—shock and awe. Use your imagination.”

“That can be arranged without a problem.”

“I thought so. The operative word here is ‘creative’, something that will leave a lasting impression. That way we won’t have to deal with this again, which means we can go on with business as usual.”

“Gotcha. How soon should this party get under way?”

“Yesterday. While it’s fresh in their minds. Assemble some of your best men. Use non-descript vehicles.” Drake paused in the hallway, placing his hand on Auggie’s shoulder. “How is that other matter taking shape?”

“We’re lining that up right now. We don’t have all the pieces together yet, but the overall picture is taking shape. The skies are looking friendlier by the hour.”

“Glad to hear it. If you find any property that belongs to Cyberflow at the other site be sure to bring it back with you and return it to its rightful owner. Do whatever it takes to find it.”

Drake watched Auggie walk down the hallway with his shoulders thrown back, hitching up his pants. The security chief of Cyberflow was on a mission. Drake could see the determination in the man’s stride. It was the fastest he’d ever seen Auggie walk.

Chapter 12

They’d been poring over the documents on Avy’s motel bed for the past 15 minutes, coming up with very little information about Drake Labrador’s doings other than indecipherable “notes to self,” company documents, old work ledgers, and other fodder. They hadn’t had sufficient time to snatch the best paperwork before they’d been forced to leave.

The journal proved disheartening since it contained chicken scratch messages with weird codes that only the author could have understood. Acronyms were everywhere, sometimes connected to words, at other times strung together in hodgepodge fashion. It was obvious that anything Drake had written was never meant to be interpreted at face value. Some of his personal notes contained strange little emoticons that conveyed his temperament during the note taking. The one thing Drake hadn’t doctored were the voluminous expense tallies that he’d run up to cover his personal activities. Company write-offs. Even these had received some strokes of a felt marker, blackening out damaging dollar figures.

Then pay dirt.

Avy found a few accident claims filed by one employee; also in the stack were partial pages of the insurance claim that included some testimonials. Then she found some copies of suspicious checks written by the claimant to Drake Labrador for amounts that were slightly less than the insurance settlement. It was an obvious sign that both parties were profiting.

“Here he goes again,” said Avy. “I think he’s been staging accidents in his own company, with willing employees, just to reap the profits. There’s evidence of a laboratory fire that he collected on. This is just the tip of the iceberg.”

Sebastian had his nose in a document. “Yeah, I would imagine he has a lot of tax deductions for things that are iffy or don’t qualify. We haven’t got a whole lot to go on. Most of these dates are old.”

“He’s had a long time to fuck things up,” said Avy. She covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. That’s not like me at all—the foul mouth. I’m running on pure emotion. You’re right. We have to find something more recent.” She picked up a crinkled yellow piece of paper that had a recent date. Cartoon characters filled its margins. Remembering the legal pad from which it had come from, she thought it might have belonged to his current memo stationary. It had been on the top pile in his desk. Fresh notes.

“This is weird,” she said. “He’s drawing little pictures to himself instead of spelling things out. He has what looks like a small black circle with a chain on it. Below that is a stick airplane with an arrow pointing down to some squiggles. Along the margin, he writes ‘five, nine, nine TANGO’ in descending order. The name ‘Auggie’ appears. Below that there is a little cross or crucifix sitting in a batch of flowers. Then it says R-I-P. Below that is the name ‘Buck.’ It looks like some kind of an anagram.”

“Lemme see that.”

She gave him the paper, prepared to watch his reaction. Janus had said disaster was on the horizon. There might be a connection. What a twist of fate it would be if Drake had sketched out a diabolical plan, allowing her to find it by pure chance. That would be too juicy. The odds of such a thing were astronomical. She was about to wipe the theory from her thoughts when Sebastian spoke.

“Wait a minute. We might have something here. The squiggles sure look like water to me. You know the little spikes and waves? R-I-P means ‘rest in peace.’ That fits with the little cross, which looks like it could be a grave marker. The little line attached to the circle looks like a bomb and fuse. I don’t get the rest of it, but just that part looks suspicious. You think he’s going to bomb a plane or something?”