by Cathy Pegau
He grumbled something then said, “Comm folder, but tell her I called.”
That seemed redundant to me, but who was I to second-guess the COO of a multibillion credit-a-year company?
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Transferring you now.”
Following the standard prompts on the screen, I sent Mr. Clemens to Talbot’s message folder and went through the same procedure with the director of contracts and the engineer. No one was willing to trust the new girl to take a message—other than Clemens, such that it was—or to try to solve whatever problems they had. That certainly made my job easier.
After making sure Talbot’s messages were safely recorded and that she’d be alerted to their presence, I ran a quick diagnostic on the comm system. Something was buggy with the auto-answer, but rather than accidentally kill the whole system, I shot a request for repair to the Exeter CompTech department. An auto-respond said I’d be informed of the job’s completion and thanked me for my patience.
Between the elevator and the computer, I thought Exeter had a nice bunch of electrons working for it. It would be a miracle if the humans were as decent.
While I’d been conversing with the computer, Talbot had shut her door. The “Private” line had gone black, and according to the screen she’d transferred her messages from the network to her Inbox.
Was she ever going to come out of there?
Until the comm trilled again, there wasn’t a whole lot for me to do. I plugged the blue data stick from HR into my terminal. Might as well get the busy work out of the way while I had the chance; there’d be time later to peruse files for the filter information.
The forms were standard “In case you die on the job, who should we call?” and “Do you promise to keep your mouth shut about what goes on here upon pain of death and/or legal action?” kinds of things. I filled in all the blanks and pressed my thumb on the screen as a signature, accepting—and lying about—the promise to be loyal.
“And you are?” asked a smooth alto on my left.
My head snapped up from the screen to face R. J. Talbot. One slender, dark eyebrow was cocked in query over her steel-green gaze. Her wide mouth pressed into a hard line, she stood with her arms crossed under her breasts. A perfectly tailored winter-white dress buttoned almost to the throat fit her trim form.
Chestnut tendrils had loosened from her upswept hairstyle, softening the angles of her cheekbones, but that was the only thing soft about her. Talbot was more attractive than the pictures and vids on the data stick had shown. Attractive in an intense, “I’m used to getting what I want and no one will stop me” sort of way. Up close and in person, she made my stomach flip and my palms sweat.
“Olivia Baines.” I rose and wiped my palms on my skirt. The VP was only a few centis taller than me, putting us almost eye-to-eye. “Your new assistant.”
I stuck my right hand out and waited while she looked me over. Despite knowing R. J. Talbot liked women, there was nothing sexual in her scrutiny. It was a purely clinical assessment, and I tried not to squirm while I wondered what she thought of me. Once again, I felt like a used air car.
Finally she brought her eyes back up to mine and grasped my hand. Hers was cool and strong with blunt, beautifully manicured, unpainted fingernails. “You’re the third one in as many weeks,” she said as she released me. “I hope HR got it right this time.”
Good thing I’d worn a jacket, because there was a distinct chill in the air.
Determined to do my best—at both jobs expected of me—I nodded once. “You won’t be disappointed, Miss Talbot.”
“Mm-hmm.” Her tone more than implied her doubt as she gave me another quick appraisal. “Get acquainted with what’s on the SI and in the desk. I’ll be back in an hour.”
She was leaving me alone? On my first day, my first minutes on the job? What kind of boss did that to an untried assistant?
Talbot walked to the door, her hips swaying with authority. She wore heels a bit higher than mine, which actually made us about the same height. But somehow, R. J. Talbot seemed taller. Much taller.
She left the office without a backward glance.
I sank down onto my chair. Willem expected me to charm and seduce her? I’d be lucky if I made it through the day without her tossing me out like week-old take-away.
The trill of the comm cut through my wavering confidence.
Unless I did want to get fired before I’d barely started, I’d better get to work. Taking a deep breath, I tapped the flashing icon on the screen. “Miss Talbot’s office. This is Olivia. How can I help you?”
Talbot strode back through the door an hour later.
By then, I’d fielded seven calls and glanced at a number of files in the SI, as well as the items in the desk drawers. All the callers left messages in Talbot’s folder, but I did manage to answer one question that kept coming up: What happened to James, Talbot’s previous faithful assistant? I told them he was on personal leave, though I wasn’t sure how accurate that was. Willem never told me what had happened to him. I hoped James was on vacation somewhere sunny and bright, but knowing the Greys it was doubtful.
Nothing in the SI related to the K-73 filtration system, which was strange. Maybe it was encoded or misfiled. Attempts to access Talbot’s computer through mine, using some of the infiltrators in my repertoire, were thwarted by a tough firewall. Of course, I never expected such easy access on my first day. I’d have to have more time, and perhaps a stronger set of applications.
In a desk drawer I found a doodle of a stick figure pointing some sort of wicked-looking firearm at another stick figure labeled “Talbot.” Great. Had she known it was there when she told me to check out the desk?
“There are seven messages waiting for you,” I said as Talbot approached. “I prioritized them depending on the source.”
“Really.” Standing at the corner of the desk, she quirked an eyebrow at me, questioning how I could recognize what was priority to her in my first hour of work. Even giving me a skeptical glare, she was stunning.
Determined to appear at ease, I shrugged. “I figured you’d let me know if I was wrong.”
Her green eyes glinted like a predator’s. For a moment I thought she was going to tear my head off for acting with such presumption. Instead, her mouth curved into a little smile. It wasn’t a cruel smile, but it didn’t give me a warm, fuzzy feeling either. Nothing about R. J. Talbot was warm or fuzzy. “I certainly will.”
I unplugged the HR data stick and stood to hand it to her. “HR asked to have this back as soon as you were able. I understand your last assistant was gone before the paperwork was completed.”
Her smile grew a micron, but the intensity of her expression never diminished. I had the feeling she may have buried the last assistant in her garden. I swallowed quietly. How could someone who wasn’t holding a pulser make me feel so uneasy?
Talbot grasped the data stick, her fingers carefully avoiding mine. “Miss Baines, aren’t you curious as to why I left you here alone? Why no one came up here to show you the ropes?”
The last hour had been busy, and I’d considered that very thing as the damn comm trilled and no one trusted me to answer but the most basic questions.
“Trial by fire,” I said. “You probably haven’t given my employment file more than a cursory look. You need a warm body here, not a replacement, or you would have likely hired someone yourself from in-house. HR will either send someone who can competently fill the chair, at the very least, or you’ll dismiss each one until they do.”
Our gazes held as she contemplated what I’d said, how I’d interpreted her methods. Was I wrong? I didn’t believe so. I got the impression R. J. Talbot was a woman who admired strength, confidence and initiative. If that’s what she wanted in an assistant, even in a temporary one, that’s what I’d give her.
Even if she made my insides quiver like jelly.
Her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around the data stick, Talbot raised it in mock salute. “Welcome
aboard, Olivia.”
Chapter Nine
I didn’t get fired that first day. Or the day after that, or the day after that. But honestly, how could you screw up answering the comm, shuffling callers to message folders and pouring coffee? I don’t know what the last temp had done to get fired before finishing the first day, but it must have been a doozy. Erased all of Talbot’s messages? Spilled coffee on the SI? Maybe that’s who’d broken the auto-answer system.
Granted, the lack of activity gave me ample time to scour my SI and Exeter’s internal net for the filter files, but there was nothing about them on my unit. Which was odd, but maybe Talbot kept the K-73 information in a private sub-system only accessible on her unit. That’s what I would do if I were hiding incriminating evidence. Or just use sticks.
If my only option was finding the right data stick, I was screwed. Files accessed exclusively via data sticks left shadows, acknowledgement by the operating system that yes, indeed, files associated with this or that were accessed. Unfortunately, shadows were just as intangible—and useless—as the designation implied.
I hoped Talbot trusted the security of her SI and the company net more than the security of stashing a stick that could be stolen by the janitor. Or her assistant.
Exeter computer security was topnotch, but there were back doors and cracks in every system. It was a matter of finding them. If I couldn’t reach them from my console, I’d need time alone in her office. But I wouldn’t get the time if all I did was sit at the front desk nearly drooling from boredom. I had to become more involved in Talbot’s routine, and fast. Asking Talbot was out of the question, so I went to those in the most knowledgeable positions.
Sitting alone at a table in the Exeter commissary during lunch on my fourth day, I eavesdropped on a nearby group of R and D admins while picking at the day’s special. The other assistants coped with the more vital aspects of Talbot’s schedule and James’s duties, but they had their own people to manage, as well. From the glares I received, they weren’t happy about it.
No one at the popular admins table had introduced themselves or invited me to join them. Not a shock. I was merely a temp, one who was making their lives difficult because I was, in their minds, incompetent.
A tall, pale brunette sighed heavily. “I just wish James would get back.”
“It shouldn’t be much longer,” Richard, the admin for the Associate VP of Programs, consoled. I recognized him from some of the comms I’d fielded for the past few days. Since his boss was highest on the ladder of those present, he was the de facto leader of their little lunch mob. “And if it is, maybe Talbot will hire a real assistant.”
This was one reason I hated the regular working world. All the sniping and back-biting, even among people on the same pathetic level. Give me a good bank job or jewelry heist any day. At least under those circumstances, you were armed against your coworkers if they turned on you.
I didn’t want to get chummy with these people, but it would behoove me to know what my boss was up to. That, and I was almost certain I’d piss them off just by talking to them. A potential win-win situation if I ever saw one.
I stood, smoothed my skirt and blouse and walked toward their table. All five watched me approach but only the tall, pale woman glanced away.
With a friendly smile, I stopped between Richard and a fair-skinned redhead. “Hi, I’m Olivia, and I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”
Several of the others flushed and murmured a greeting as they looked to Richard.
He stood, a fake smile on his long, dark face, and held out his hand. “Hello, Olivia. We spoke over the comm, but it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
Yeah, right. I’d been sitting in the commissary for the last three days while he was here holding court, and not once did he make the effort to “finally meet” me. As someone who’d been working here, it was his responsibility to greet me, wasn’t it? Whatever. I took his hand and resisted the urge to kick him. Cripes, his skin was smoother than mine.
“Nice to meet you too,” I said with the same fakeness. Hell, I could play this game. I let go of his hand and glanced around the table. “I just wanted to thank you all for taking on so much extra work. I realize I’m only a temp, but I’d like to make an impression on Miss Talbot. You know, so I can get a really good reference from her.”
God, was that as pitiful as it sounded?
“So,” I continued, “I was hoping you’d help me. I want to be more involved with Miss Talbot’s scheduling and take on the duties expected of an assistant.”
They all stared at me for a moment then exchanged glances. None of them thought I’d be able to do the job, but maybe they didn’t realize what was on my résumé. Okay, it was a fake résumé, but they didn’t know that.
Richard’s forehead creased as he frowned. “Are you sure you’re ready for something like this? Miss Talbot’s a very busy woman and has many important projects in the works. Perhaps it would be best for us to hold things together until James returns.”
“I can appreciate that.” I gave him my most charming smile, the one I’d learned from my mother. “And I’m sure I’d need to pick your brains, but I’ve been in a similar position.” See fake résumé for details. “I have to show Miss Talbot I can do more for her, at least more than being a human answer system.”
The five of them exchanged looks again, but this time a couple had the glint of malice in their eyes. Maybe they were just mean people, but I had the feeling they were interested in more than seeing me go down in flames. If James didn’t return in a timely manner Talbot would need a capable assistant—and hiring from in-house meant one of them would likely be promoted. Which meant I was in their way and needed to be gone ASAP.
Richard grinned at me, but it didn’t reach his muddy-brown eyes. “Sure, Olivia, we’ll be happy to help you out.”
Richard commed after lunch with Talbot’s schedule for the next few weeks. Deciphering that kept me occupied, and when I commed other admins to clarify their notations they happily answered my questions. For the most part. The redhead pursed her lips when I’d called and was barely civil. She may have been bothered by my interrupting her work or miffed because I’d decided to do my job. Hard to say, but I triple-checked everything she told me just to make sure she wasn’t trying to screw me over. Where was a good pulse pistol when you needed one?
Late that afternoon I was prepping timely reminders for upcoming meetings when Talbot swept into the office followed by Michael Craig, Associate VP of Research Integrity, and Emily Pritchard, Chief Engineer. She headed straight to her office with the other two hot on her heels. Something was up. None of them so much as glanced at me or tossed a “Good day” in my direction. Another reason I hated the working world. The suits generally ignored the peons unless they needed something.
“Olivia, please bring in the Werniki data set the lab sent up this morning. And coffee.”
“Yes, Miss Talbot.” I managed to keep the frustration out of my voice, but just barely.
Slipping the requested data stick into my pocket, I went into the little kitchenette off the reception area. Exeter had decent coffee, but I preferred my own brand and had been bringing it in for the past two days. If I was going to be chained to the desk, I felt entitled to a better brew.
I set cups, saucers, the full pot, sweetener and a small pitcher of cream on a glass tray and brought it into her office. The same ruby carpet covered the floor, but the walls were stark white with abstract art pieces bound by simple black frames. Black lacquered cabinets lined one wall. The window behind the desk was currently tinted a medium charcoal shade to block the bright winter sun. As the day went on and the light waned, the polarized plasti-glass would become more translucent to reveal the lights of Pandalus at night. Or, at the touch of a button, remain opaque.
Talbot sat behind the black lacquered desk, intent on the SI screen while her left hand absently toyed with the gold chain around her neck. Whatever dangled on the end o
f the chain peeked out from V-neck of her blouse from time to time, but I couldn’t see what it was. I gave myself a mental shake to break the hold of the glinting chain as it slid against her dusky skin.
Craig and Pritchard flanked Talbot instead of sitting in the two black leather chairs in front of the desk. Craig, in his early forties, appeared haggard as he ran a hand through his mussed hair. Pritchard, a tall, cool blonde who favored pastel sweaters, had her arms crossed over her ample chest. They all peered at the SI screen, frowning at whatever they saw.
“These are the particle saturation numbers for the past year,” Pritchard said as I approached. “This shows them going down at a—”
Talbot raised her hand, cutting her off as I set the tray down. My heart rate picked up, and a little buzz ran through me. She wouldn’t have stopped Pritchard unless there was something on the screen I shouldn’t know about. Which meant, of course, now I needed to know what was on the screen. A file name, a sub-system designation, something. Unfortunately, getting a good look at it would require an all-too-obvious craning of my neck.
All three watched me, and I smiled at them like the good little coffee girl I was. Craig held my gaze for about a microsecond then found the cuticle on his right thumb terribly interesting. Pritchard dropped her gaze down to her left and smoothed her hair behind her right ear. Nervous gestures made these two horrible accomplices.
Rule Number Four in the Felon’s Handbook: Make sure any associates weren’t going screw you over, intentionally or otherwise.
But calm, cool and collected R. J. Talbot waited for me to give her the Werniki data stick from my pocket with nothing showing on her face. I couldn’t help but admire a woman who committed blatant code violations while looking so confident.
“Anything else, Miss Talbot?” My cheeks began to ache from the stiff smile I’d maintained. Damn, I wanted a look at that screen.
