by Rachel Ford
The fear that mingled with Josh’s anger was at once concerning and poignant in its own way. It was enough a mirror of his own feelings to worry the taxman. But he could not resent it, either. Not in the circumstances.
So he brought him, briefly, up to speed on the little that he knew.
“Fuck,” Josh said when he’d finished. “So every time someone starts looking into it, Nance gets killed.”
“That’s what it looks like,” Alfred agreed.
“And you haven’t told her?”
“No. You know how she is, when she gets on the trail of something. She won’t rest until she figures it out – or he kills her again.”
Josh seemed skeptical. “You can’t keep it a secret forever.”
“No, of course not. I just don’t want her getting hurt. I need time to figure it out first.”
“But that just got her killed. At least, that’s what future you says.”
Alfred frowned. “Did he say what he – I – did?”
“Just that you pulled the audit Nance was working, and started looking through everything related to ECF.”
“He didn’t say what I found?”
“I don’t think you found anything.”
“Dammit.” The furrows in his forehead were deepening. “How the hell am I supposed to keep Nancy safe if I can’t even find out who wants her dead?”
The marine considered. “She needs a bodyguard.”
“What?”
“A bodyguard.”
“That’s ridiculous. Even if we could afford one, Nance would never agree.”
“No,” Josh agreed. “Probably not. That’s why we don’t tell her.”
“That still leaves finding one – one whom we can afford and who won’t think we’re nuts.”
“I’ll do it.”
“You?” Alfred managed not to scoff, but just barely. “I’m serious.”
“So am I. I’m a professional, remember?”
“Not yet,” the taxman reminded him. “You still have another interview before you get the job. If you get the job.”
Josh shrugged. “Close enough. But I did security for Futureprise.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“No. But I know Nance. I know how she thinks and what her habits are.”
Alfred frowned. If Josh was trying to sell him on the idea, he was doing a poor job.
“I don’t understand all of it,” the marine said, with a pointedness that only deepened the taxman’s reserve, “but I spent a lot of time with her in the Cretaceous period.”
“So did I,” Alfred felt compelled to point out. “And I’ve still failed to protect her. Twice.”
“But that’s not what you’re good at, taxman. It is what I’m good at.”
“I don’t know…”
“And if you’re worried about…well, what I mean is, Nance never has to know.”
“What?”
“She won’t know I’m around. I’ll stay out of sight and do my job: keeping her safe. So you can do what you’re good at: figuring out whose cheating on their taxes and willing to kill over it.”
Alfred felt a little guilty now, though he couldn’t entirely define why. “You’d do that?”
“For Nance? Of course.”
Alfred accepted Josh’s offer, and the marine left with the promise, “Nothing’ll get past me.” He also left behind Nancy’s key fob, with all her other keys. “I’ll keep the car key. We’ll need a reason for why I was here. If she finds out, say it was to drop these off.”
Once he was alone, the taxman sat at his terminal and sighed. There was absolutely nothing about this situation he liked. He didn’t like keeping Nancy in the dark. He didn’t like depending on Josh, especially where she was concerned.
And, of course, he hated the idea that any and every action he took on the case might put Nancy’s life in jeopardy.
He was staring daggers at his computer screen when a voice interrupted his thoughts. “Trouble in paradise, Freddie?”
It was – of course – Justin. “What do you want now?” he snapped, making no efforts at civility.
“That was Nance’s friend that stopped by, right? Joshua?”
Alfred frowned at him. “Don’t you have actual work, Justin?”
Lyon shrugged. “Just checking in to make sure you’re okay. That sounded like it got pretty heated there for a bit.” The taxman’s frown deepened, but his colleague continued. “You’re a bigger man than me, I guess, but, you know, if it was me, I don’t think I’d let my girl keep her ex such a regular in our lives.”
This was too much for Alfred. Sitting here already was getting to him. The office was insufferable with Justin prattling on. “I’m pretty sure,” he declared, getting to his feet, “that you’re just about the last person I’d ask for relationship advice.”
An eyebrow climbed the other man’s forehead. “Geez, Freddo, no need to get bent out of shape at me.”
“All I’m saying is, Justin, you’ve got pretty strong opinions about my relationship for a guy who hasn’t gotten laid in half a decade.” And leaving his ‘friend’ to chew on that nugget of wisdom, he pushed out of the office, and headed down the hall.
His steps led him to Director Caspersen’s office. He knocked and waited for her summons. “Come in.”
“Morning, Director Caspersen,” he said.
“Morning, Alfred. What can I do for you?”
“Just wondering if there’s a way to see who accesses the access logs for a given file or database?”
“Who watches the watchers, eh?” She raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. “Yeah, there’s ways. Why?”
“Would you accept a hunch?”
“Sorry, Favero. That takes some pretty big clearance. Not even one of your hunches is going to cut it.” Then, she shrugged. “Not unless you tell me what it is, anyway.”
He shook his head. “Probably nothing. Just wanted to know if it was possible.”
“Alright. Then the answer is yes.”
“Thanks. Oh, and about my PTO request?” He’d submitted his paid-time-off form for the coming Thursday and Friday the afternoon before.
She nodded. “I got it. It’ll be approved by lunchtime.”
He smiled. “Thanks, Caspersen.”
“Of course. I’m surprised to see it, though. A leave request. From you. You almost never use your PTO.”
“Oh.” He colored a little. “I’m going to a comic thing.”
Caspersen grinned, finishing with him, “With Nancy.”
His color deepened. “Yes.”
“I should have guessed. Is it – what’s it called? That MarvelousCon she’s been talking about?”
“That’s right.”
“That should be fun.”
“I hope so,” he said skeptically.
Caspersen laughed, adding impishly, “You going to do the costume thing with her?”
He nodded. “Yup.”
Caspersen’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“It was her idea,” he assured her quickly.
“I don’t doubt it. Still, I’m surprised she could talk you into it.” She grinned. “You were the only one in our department who refused to wear a costume to the Halloween party, if memory serves.”
“That was different.”
“Of course.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’ll have to remember to draft Nancy for our office party planning committees from now on.”
“That’s not fair, Director Caspersen.”
“Probably not. But I’m absolutely going to do it.”
Chapter Seven
Justin scowled as Alfred passed, and closed his door with an emphatic bang. The taxman smiled to himself.
Still, it was not a long-lived moment of satisfaction. No sooner than had he sat down did he glance around, just to make sure no visitors from the future had materialized behind him. Then, he sighed.
The entire situation was insane. Heck, I probably am a little insane for going along with Josh’s c
razy plan. He frowned. No, he was definitely insane for going along with it. It wasn’t a question of if’s, but rather a matter of degrees.
How nuts does a guy have to be to ask his girlfriend’s ex to secretly stalk her?
Pretty nuts. Obviously.
He sighed. He wished he knew what to do. He wished he could ask Nance. Of course, that was exactly what he was trying to avoid. But, still, there was no one’s advice he trusted more. Fudge muffins. What a mess.
And even with the marine on the case, how was he supposed to go about figuring out who wanted Nancy dead without bringing the assassin’s wrath on her?
If Caspersen would let him see who had access to the access logs, that might tell him what he needed to know: whoever was targeting Nancy had to know what was in the file that she’d accessed. If he could figure out who had accessed the access logs, he’d have a list of suspects – with no danger to Nance. Unless, of course, there are access logs for the access logs. Then the perp – whoever he was – might still figure out he was being watched.
His brain hurt just thinking about that. Tech people, he thought, were bureaucrats at heart – bureaucrats in geeky t-shirts instead of suits.
Still, the mental detour had convinced him of one thing: whoever it was had to work for the IRS. He was surprised that it hadn’t occurred to him before. It was, though, the only thing that made sense: for someone to know whenever the file was accessed, they would need access to the internal network. That meant a hacker, or a mole. And as hard as it was for the taxman to envision an officer of the law, a public servant devoted to the cause of common good, betraying his calling, a hacker was even more outlandish. Nothing, he knew, was ever entirely secure; at least, that’s what Nancy told him, and he trusted her guidance in such matters. But where Uncle Sam’s money was concerned, it was about as secure as anything could possibly be.
So he instinctively felt that hackers were not the answer. A mole, then, it must be.
This was definitely insult to injury in Alfred’s eyes. A tax cheat so particularly vile as to kill to protect his assets was loathsome indeed. But to hide that loathsomeness in the guise of a servant of the public good? If ever he heard a more fitting use for the phrase “wolf in sheep’s clothing,” he could not recall it.
And that this was not an exercise in the theoretical, but a real-life scenario, where Nance’s life hung in the balance, made it all the more terrifying.
Part of him wanted to simply walk away now that Nance was in the clear. But the fact was, he couldn’t know for sure that she was in the clear. Even if, this time, she escaped, what happened if she stumbled onto something that implicated the killer in a week, or a month, or a year? They’d be back at square one, all over again.
No, Alfred Favero could not let fear win. He had to find the assassin and tax cheat, and bring him to justice. He had to do it without getting Nancy involved. And he had to do it as quickly as possible.
Sugar cookies, he thought, considering the task he’d assigned himself. This is not going to be easy.
His mind was still full of the case, and how he could possibly find the killer before he killed, when lunchtime rolled around. Added to that was the fact that he couldn’t help but wonder if Josh was around, somewhere, staking the place out. Nance picked up his unease within five minutes. “Babe, what’s the matter?”
Damn, she’s perceptive. “Nothing.”
She pulled a face. “Come on. You’re never this quiet.”
Despite himself, he grinned at her teasing tones. “I just can’t get a word in edgewise, with all this talk about comic books,” he shot back.
“Well someone’s got to keep the conversation going.” She smiled at him, reaching across the table to take his hand. “But seriously, babe: what’s wrong?”
He sighed. “It’s nothing much. Just…” His mind raced. “Dealing with Justin.”
“Ah.” She nodded understandingly. “What’s he up to now?”
“Well, it started with comments about us carpooling. Apparently he noticed.”
She laughed. “Of course he did.”
“And he keeps…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
She scrutinized him for a moment. “It does. It’s bugging you. Come on, spit it out.”
He sighed. “He’s always got stuff to say, about you. How I shouldn’t ‘let’ you be friends with Josh, and –”
“Wait, what?”
“I know.”
“He really said that, though?”
“Yeah.” Alfred took the opportunity – before Justin did – to mention Josh’s visit. That had been another thing weighing on his mind. Sooner or later, someone at the office would mention it to Nance. “Josh stopped by to drop off your key fob.”
“He did?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t get paged.”
“No,” Alfred lied. “I happened to be passing the lobby, and saw him before he checked in.”
“Ah. So that’s what set Justin off, though?”
“Yeah.
“Well, he’s a prick. And he sounds like a controlling prick at that. No wonder his wife got the hell away from him.”
The taxman felt one part relieved and one part guilty. He’d steered the conversation in exactly the direction he wanted: Nancy was no longer mystified by his mood, and he’d preemptively explained Josh’s visit. But he’d done it by lying, or as good as, to her. And though necessary, he couldn’t stand the idea. “He is,” he said, trying not to focus on his guilt. “I just about told him off.”
She smiled. “Really?”
“Well,” he shrugged, “I kind of did, actually.” He recalled his words to Justin, and the way the other man had slammed his door at the sight of him earlier.
She laughed out loud. “Holy shit. I wish I had been there to see the look on his face.”
Alfred grinned. “It was pretty good,” he said.
There was another benefit to half-leveling with Nance. That was that when they returned, she walked with him to his office. Throwing her usual discretion to the wind – quite deliberately, he was convinced by the twinkle in her eye – she kissed him, long and tenderly, before he stepped inside.
They were rewarded for their efforts by Justin’s door slamming shut, a second time that day.
Alfred didn’t touch the audit that afternoon. He still hadn’t figured out how to do it safely, and so he felt it was better to hold off than to risk harm to Nance.
He got a text the next morning from Josh. “About that interview…it’s at three again. Can you take over, or should I cancel?”
“I’ve got it,” he wrote back. Knowing that the marine would not be on the job, he didn’t dare touch the file. So he focused on his assignments, and turned his mind again and again to the problem. The former was a more successful use of his time. He didn’t make great headway on his project work, but at least he made some. When it came to unmasking the killer, though, he was still drawing blanks.
So he focused on their preparations for MarvelousCon. This was made the easier because it was just about the only thing on Nancy’s mind. “I got the shipping notification. Your uniform is on its way.”
“Oh, great.”
“Yeah. We should have it by Tuesday.”
“And you got yours already?”
“Like, four years ago,” she grinned, and he felt silly for asking.
“Of course you did, Nance.”
“We should head to my place on the way home, actually.”
Alfred frowned. He couldn’t forget that her place was – in a timeline that had almost come to be – the scene of her murder. “Why?”
“To pick up the props.”
“What props?”
“All of them. The badges, tricorder, phasers – everything.”
They were in the breakroom, and both cringed as of one volition as Justin and another coworker, Andy Brecht, walked in.
“Well,” Justin was saying, rather loudly, “I’m heading out soon.”<
br />
“Too much of a good thing, eh?” Andy laughed.
“Oh, no. I’ve got to get ready for my date.”
“Ah. That Stacey you had mentioned?”
“Yeah,” Lyon nodded. “You don’t leave a woman like that waiting.”
Nancy and he exchanged glances, rolling their eyes. Justin continued, “It’s been a long week, though. Nothing like a hot date to end it on a high note.”
This was too much for Nance, who snorted and whispered, “Hot date? Yeah, with his hand.”
It took Alfred a moment to take her meaning, and when he did, he laughed out loud, a little scandalized and a lot amused.
His outburst of amusement, though, drew the other men’s eyes. Andy nodded a greeting. “Hey Nancy, Alfred.”
Justin scowled at them suspiciously. Then, though, he said, “Hey Freddo, what’s this I hear about you playing dress up at some geek festival?”
“Geek festival?” Andy wondered.
“It’s called cosplay,” Nancy corrected. To Andy, she added, “We’re going to MarvelousCon.”
“Cool,” he said.
Justin continued addressing Alfred. “You wear, like, makeup and stuff, right? Didn’t realize you were into that kind of thing.”
“There’s a little more to it than that,” the taxman answered superciliously.
Justin shrugged. “Whatever, dude. I mean, no judgment here. Whatever makes you happy.” Then, with a sneer that absolutely belied his claim of not judging, he turned back to Andy. “Anyway, what I was telling you about Stacey…”
Chapter Eight
The weekend came and went without incident. Nancy’s excitement for MarvelousCon was mounting. Alfred wasn’t sure he’d make it through a three-day-week if he had to hear another word about costumes and calendars.
She had an entire schedule of events that spanned pages. They’d gone through it multiple times, and she still hadn’t made up her mind about which sessions she was attending.
As for himself, the answer was simple: whatever she was attending. Literally none of it appealed to him, so he had no preference. What would he care, after all, if they spent their time at a panel on alien makeup featuring artists behind five different television shows – all of which Nancy knew – or if they went to the session on superhero costume design? Neither interested him in the slightest.
