by L. A. Larkin
‘Level forty-eight,’ the woman persisted.
‘I will,’ said Serena, wishing to get rid of her. Alone, she leaned against the wall. She tried to recall more details of that terrible night. She remembered someone asking her questions, someone holding her still. She remembered the voice: it was Bukowski’s. She felt the sting of the knife. Bukowski had grilled her about Tracey. Yes, he’d demanded to know about Mutenda. She’d tried to cover for Tracey—something about food aid. Regardless, they knew she was in Mutenda, which meant her life was in danger. Had Tracey heeded her warning to leave Zimbabwe?
Walking quickly back to her desk, she picked up her handbag. Bukowski was in a meeting, door closed.
She tapped rapidly at the keys of her Tbyte.
GA knows about you. Alerted BHC to search for you. Don’t use this email or number again.
She pressed ‘Send’ and dropped it in her bag.
‘I need your handheld.’
A security guard stood in front of her.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘The techos need to check it over. It’s company-security procedure. You can have it back when they’ve finished.’
He put out his hand.
‘No, I don’t have to hand over my personal possessions.’
‘I’m afraid you do. You either hand it to me or it’ll be taken from you.’
‘Then you’ll need to take it from me.’
The man picked up her bag. ‘You are going nowhere until I have it.’
If she made a fuss over the phone, it was possible they’d make her leave immediately.
‘Okay, but can I have my bag, please?’ He handed it to her and she gave him a smartphone—the unused one. The one she’d used to text Tracey was still in her bag.
‘And your password?’
‘That’s private.’
‘They’ll work it out. I’ll be checking your bag when you leave.’ He walked away.
‘Sorry to hear you’re leaving us,’ Sue said with mock sincerity, clearly pissed off about Friday night. She pointedly looked towards the departing security guard. ‘Must be very embarrassing for you.’
Serena ignored the jibe. She needed to get Sue out of her face so she could focus on using the B0r3r.
‘Al wants me to finish the Osaka document before I leave. I’d better get on with it.’
‘I know,’ she responded, flicking her hair back. ‘He said you must show it to me when you’ve finished and then Security will escort you out.’ Sue sauntered over to her own desk.
Serena needed to keep Sue well away from her computer if she were to succeed in using the B0r3r. Fortunately, no one could see the content of her screen unless they stood directly behind her. Adrenaline was pumping through Serena’s veins and she was thinking clearly for the first time since Friday night. The first thing she needed to do was ensure she wasn’t being shadowed. If she were being watched remotely by the service desk, they would see the keylogger working. She turned on her computer. Her tool bar was red: she was being shadowed. She wasn’t surprised.
Bringing up her initial draft of the Osaka document, she worked on it for the next half-hour, hoping the shadowing would be turned off. It wasn’t. She had to find a way to get it switched off. Minimising the document, she told Sue she was popping down to payroll. Sue clearly didn’t know about her restricted access to other floors.
Serena took the elevator to the IT and security departments. She had to get in there without using the retina scanner. The spy-eyes would be watching her but, hopefully, the person controlling them wouldn’t see anything suspicious about her behaviour. It was after nine-thirty in the morning but many of the systems penetration testers were still strolling in. A lanky guy in combat trousers and a grey T-shirt placed his face in the retina scanner and the security doors slid open. He lumbered through them, Serena colliding with him from behind as she raced to get through.
‘Hey, lady, what’s the rush?’
‘Sorry, got an emergency.’
Serena walked away, flashing her Gene-Asis ID at him.
‘Oh, yeah, okay … I guess.’
She raced into the IT department before he could say another word. She just hoped he was too lazy to report her.
The place hummed with conversation. Row upon row of computer screens were alive with colour and movement. People buzzed around. Serena spotted Kylie, talking to another woman.
‘G’day, Amber, how can I help you?’
Kylie didn’t ask Serena what she was doing inside the IT department so, clearly, Bukowski had failed to adequately communicate her restricted access to the building. He must assume she was no longer a threat.
‘I wondered if I could have a quiet word,’ Serena said in hushed tones. Kylie stepped forward and looked up at the taller Amber, exposing some dark hairs on the tip of her chin.
‘Go on,’ she said.
Serena looked around her, making a big show of the fact she didn’t want to be overheard.
‘It’s a bit embarrassing, really.’
Kylie was lapping it up.
‘Go on.’
‘Well, Mr Bukowski wants me to shop on the Net for a gift for his new girlfriend.’
‘A new one, huh? Do you know her name?’
‘I can’t tell you, because she works here.’
Kylie’s thick eyebrows shot up.
‘Are you serious?
‘Sure am.’
‘Well, I’ll be. Go on,’ said Kylie, huddling closer.
‘He wants me to buy her some underwear, but not just any underwear. The kind you get from a sex shop.’
‘Bloody hell! The dirty bugger. And he’s getting you to buy it!’
‘So, my problem is that he wants it ordered and delivered today, and I need to go on to these sex shop websites to buy it, and I’m being shadowed by your service desk.’
‘I see the problem. So, when do you want to do your, um, shopping?’
‘I can’t say precisely when, as I have an urgent document to finish, so would you be able to turn it off now, and I’ll call you later today and let you know when I’ve placed Mr Bukowski’s order?’
Kylie looked furtively around the enormous IT department and then whispered in her ear.
‘I’ll tell you what, mate. I’ll turn it off straightaway if you do something for me.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You tell me exactly what you ordered for him,’ Kylie said, laughing and slapping Serena a bit too hard on her back.
‘With pleasure, Kylie. And thanks.’
‘Oh, no worries, Amber. Believe me, you’ve just made my day.’
Serena looked fleetingly across the floor at Colin, considering whether she should work on him now to gain access to Bukowski’s mouse. No, it was too early. Colin would place a time restriction on her use of the mouse and she didn’t even have the B0r3r in place yet.
By the time she was back at her desk, her toolbar had switched from red to blue. As Serena was no longer being monitored, she was free to use the B0r3r. She had removed the two parts from her earlobes and held them tightly in her hand. Unnoticed, she slipped the red-tipped part of the B0r3r into its slot in her computer’s dock. That was easy. Her big problem now was getting the transmitter into Bukowski’s computer dock without him noticing. She felt sick at the thought of stepping foot in his office again, but this was the only way to nail the son of a bitch.
Chapter 49
Serena worked slowly on the Osaka document, biding her time, keeping an eye on Bukowski and hoping he would leave his office. His meeting with Amanda ended and she waited until he had walked past her desk, heading for the suite’s entrance, before she spoke.
‘Al, can I ask you a question when you get back?’ She wanted to find out how long he’d be away.
‘I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ he said and walked out, turning left down the corridor. She guessed he was going to the Mens, which meant she had to be very quick. She checked out the location of the other executives. Amanda was back in her office
. Darko and Henry were somewhere else. Next, Serena considered the PAs. Liz was off sick, and Sal had left the suite. Sue and Ron were at their desks, which meant they would see her enter Bukowski’s office. But she had no choice. It was now or never.
Taking the B0r3r from her handbag pocket, she held it tightly. Picking up the day’s mail, she walked into Bukowski’s office. As she did, she had her back to the suite entrance, so she couldn’t see if he’d returned. She walked behind Bukowski’s desk, which faced the door, and, lifting her eyes quickly, she glanced through the glass wall. No Bukowski. But Sue was looking directly at her. Serena smiled at her and then placed the letters in his in-tray, whilst lifting his smartphone from its dock with the other hand. Serena hoped his monitor was blocking Sue’s view of her movements.
Another quick glance. Still no Bukowski. Sue was talking to Ron. Serena’s hands felt like jelly as she clumsily felt around for the port. She couldn’t find it. What if John were wrong and there was no port? Leaning down to look for it, she caught sight of Sue walking towards Bukowski’s office. Shit, where’s the damn port? Then she saw it: a nearly circular point, within which was a metallic device. Between this metallic device and the circumference of the outer circle was a millimetre-wide gap. Serena slipped the B0r3r into that gap, and it became invisible. She placed the smartphone back in the dock. Nobody would know that the B0r3r was there.
‘What are you doing in here, Amber?’
‘Leaving Al his mail.’
‘You’re not meant to be in here and I deal with his mail now.’
‘Sorry, Sue.’
Seizing the letters from the in-tray, Serena handed them to Sue and walked out of Bukowski’s office. As Serena arrived at her desk, he walked back into the executive suite.
‘So, what did you want to ask, Amber?’ said Bukowski, in his normal cheery tone.
‘Oh, it was nothing. I’ve worked it out.’
Serena watched Bukowski. He was now on the phone. He hadn’t used his keyboard yet. Once she had his password and watch-fob code, she would need to persuade Colin to link her fingerprint to Bukowski’s name in the biometrics database. She’d then be able to use Bukowski’s computer, which was one of the few in the company with a USB port. Of course, sitting at his computer and copying data without raising suspicion was a challenge; which, as yet, Serena had no idea how to overcome. But there had to be a way. She had an hour or two before she would be escorted from the building, and she was determined to leave with a copy of McPherson’s Zimbabwean research.
Bukowski touched his keyboard and the B0r3r keylogger activated, sending each of his strokes to her screen. She held her breath. On one of her monitor screens, she had the Osaka document displayed. On the other, she watched as letters she hadn’t typed began creeping across the screen, until they formed his user name, ‘ARBukowski’.
He pressed ‘Enter’. His password would be next. The alphabet soup serpent paused on screen for only a second but it felt like a lifetime to Serena. ‘AM8ER’. ‘Enter’. She nearly jumped out of her skin. He was using her name as his updated password. She shot him a look. He was focused on his computer monitor. Her heart was racing as she looked around to check no one was able to see her second screen. She watched as his ten-digit watch-fob code appeared before her eyes: 2847200946. She nearly whooped with elation. But she remembered that this watch-fob code was only valid if he didn’t log out. If he did, it could only be used for a set time before it became obsolete. For how many minutes it would remain valid, she still didn’t know.
Bukowski appeared to be emailing. She saw ‘Reply’. It took a while for her to decipher the message but, when she did, she found it related to the status of some impending patent applications. His next email was to the company lawyer in New York, enquiring about the progress of a court case. It seemed that one of Gene-Asis’ largest competitors had headhunted Gene-Asis’ security director in New York, and Gene-Asis was taking them to court. Next, he typed an email to someone called Wilson Chirunga. It read:
496 million Zimbabwe dollars agreed. Destroy her evidence. Do whatever is necessary to keep her quiet. Remove anyone who cooperated with her. When you open this email its contents will be wiped clean in thirty seconds. It cannot be forwarded or copied.
Serena nearly gasped out loud. Bukowski sent the email and logged out. He picked up his smartphone and left his office. Serena shut down the keylogger immediately.
‘I’ll be back in ten,’ he said to Sue.
He left the executive suite. Because he had logged off, she only had a few minutes. But in those few minutes, she would nail the man who was paying a mercenary to murder Tracey.
Chapter 50
Finally, she’d seen proof Bukowski was the killer she’d believed him to be and it fired her up like rocket fuel. She went to the Ladies, retrieved her Tbyte from her bag and texted John about Wilson Chirunga. He responded immediately: he’d get on to the British High Commission again and also contact Tracey’s editor. It was time for the mighty media to use its influence.
Next, Serena raced to the IT floor. The retina scanners were empty and the solid doors were shut. The spy-eye, suspended from the ceiling, sensed her presence and moved around to get a better view of her. A young woman, immaculately dressed in a linen suit, arrived, placed her face in the retina scanner and the doors opened. Serena dived for the opening, following hot on her heels.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked Serena, once they were through the doors.
‘I’m in a rush, that’s all. Here’s my ID.’
‘That is not right. You have to go through the retina scanner. Please do it now,’ she said in a strong French accent.
‘I’m sorry but I don’t have time for this. Mr Bukowski needs me to see the service desk right away.’
‘I don’t care. You have to use the retina scanner.’
The Frenchwoman stood in her way. Serena was cornered.
‘Amber, good to see you,’ said Colin, poking his head over the woman’s shoulder and waving.
‘You know this woman?’
‘Yes, Amber is Mr Bukowski’s PA. Why?’
‘Mon Dieu. I am late,’ she said, throwing up her arms in exasperation.
Serena took Colin’s arm, truly overjoyed at his timely arrival.
‘Colin, you’re just the man I need,’ she said, steering him back into the IT department. ‘Mr Bukowski has been growling at me like a wounded bear all morning and he’s given me a terrible headache.’
Colin allowed himself to be led, obviously enjoying the feeling of Serena’s arm though his.
‘What have you done, Amber? You always in trouble. Why you always in trouble?’ he said, patting her hand. Colin hadn’t asked her about her departure today, so she assumed that he didn’t know yet. The bureaucratic wheels were, fortunately, moving slowly this morning.
‘Oh, Colin. It’s not my fault that Mr Bukowski’s mouse isn’t working.’
They were back at Colin’s desk and she had manoeuvred him into his seat while she was sitting on the edge of his desk.
‘What? Not working?’
Putting on his thick-lensed reading glasses, he deftly brought up the biometrics database. Little beads of perspiration formed on his upper lip, trickling between the few black hairs of his morning shadow. He checked that Bukowski’s fingerprint was still under his name where it should be, and that everything appeared to be functioning normally. He shook his head.
‘I don’t understand. It should be working perfectly. What did he say was wrong?’
‘Well, he’s gone out now but he said sometimes the mouse responds to his touch and sometimes it doesn’t. Look, Colin, here’s how it is. He had an important email up on his screen when his mouse died, and he’s asked me to respond to it for him as a matter of urgency. So, I simply need to be able to activate his mouse to see it.’
‘You sure he wants you to see a Highly Protected email? This is very unusual,’ Colin asked, wide-eyed.
‘Colin, don’t you believe
me?’
‘Of course, but it’s better I fix his mouse so it recognises his fingerprint. If it doesn’t work for him, then it won’t work for you.’
‘How do you know? Why don’t we try it?’
He shook his head again.
‘I don’t know. I must ask Mr Bukowski.’
‘But, Colin, he’s asked me to sort this out as he’s in a meeting, and he’ll be mad if I miss the response deadline for this email. It’s from the chairman of the board. It’s very important.’
‘Oh no. I don’t know what to do,’ said Colin, swaying backwards and forwards in agitation.
‘Just place a duplicate of my fingerprint under Mr Bukowski’s name and link them for ten minutes. I’ll call you when I’ve responded to the email and then you can sever the link.’
‘But he’s logged out. You can’t respond to the email.’
‘He told me his password and fob code. I can log back in.’
‘Really? He did that? Wow, he must trust you.’ Colin rubbed his hairless chin. ‘Okay, okay, I do it, but just ten minutes.’
‘Better make it fifteen … just in case,’ she said, smiling at him.
He copied her fingerprint so that it not only sat in the biometrics database under the name of Amber Crosby but also under Al R. Bukowski.
‘Thanks, Colin,’ she said, giving him a big kiss on the cheek. ‘I’ll call you in fifteen, I promise.’
‘Call me if mouse is still not working.’
‘I will.’
‘When fifteen minutes are up, I’ll delete your second fingerprint. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
In the empty lift, she took a few deep breaths, trying to focus on her plan. Timing would be everything. Serena checked her watch: it was 11.40 am and she had until 11.55 am to use Bukowski’s mouse. A minute would be lost just getting back to her desk. On top of this, METRO would switch back on at precisely 12.30 pm and the B0r3r would instantly be discovered.
Serena tried to sneak back to her desk unnoticed but Sue was on her back immediately. She stomped over to Serena in her stilettos.
‘Amber, where’ve you been? You’re running out of time. It has to be emailed by two.’
