Even though I'm getting a kick out of picturing the look on my dad's face as I replay our encounter in my mind, I did not sleep with Brandon to piss him off. I would have been just as happy if he didn't cross our path. I slept with Brandon for my own personal reasons.
First and foremost, I have a lot of pent up anger and aggression since I've been forced to come home and have no outlet for it. Getting my brains fucked out did a damn good job of helping me out in that department. Letting him into my pants might also be a good way of getting him to let his guard down and possibly give me some information on some of his clients. I realize that the odds of this happening are slim to none, but you never know until you try. In the worst-case scenario, I figure that bits and pieces of information might even be good enough to have the opportunity to dig up whatever information I could find.
"I have something I need to attend to, so I'm going to be gone for a few minutes," Brandon tells me after answering a knock at the door. "Why don't you go ahead, get dressed, and I'll meet you back down at the event. Make sure the door closes all the way, so it locks when you leave."
In a rush, he leaves the room without another word or even a second glance over his shoulder to make sure I start getting dressed to go back out to the party. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would get this great of an opportunity. He just left me alone in his office. Here, all of his files and his computer lay right before me, which I can only assume contains information on his clients. With any luck, I'll be able to find plenty of damning information to make my little tryst worthwhile.
I don't even bother pulling my dress back up. I just leave it pulled down to my waist. Who knows how much time I actually have, so I intend to make every second count, even if that means searching these files with my boobs hanging out and no panties on.
Scurrying as fast as I can, I take a seat at his desk and turn on his computer. I wait with anticipation as the system loads up. Surely it's just my imagination, but the sounds of the machine starting sound as loud as a stereo being played on full blast, even though in reality, I'm sure I'm the only one who can hear it. Nobody heard the crazy sex that we just had, so I know they can't hear a stupid computer. Finally, the main screen pops up.
"Fuck!" I groan.
The computer is password-protected, and since I don't know anything about this man, there is no way I can start guessing what his passwords might be. Besides, someone as intelligent as he is certainly wouldn't use common words or phrases as his password.
I don't know what the hell I'm going to do now. Since I can't get into the computer, maybe I can check out the files in the filing cabinet instead. I spin the chair around and pull on the top drawer. It feels like it's going to open, but it stops abruptly.
Motherfucker, it's locked too.
I can see having a password on your computer, but why would you have the need to lock a filing cabinet that's located in the office of your very own home? An office that apparently locks on its own after you shut the door? There has to be details in there that he doesn't want anyone to see. That's the only thing that makes sense. The fact that he's got everything locked down so tightly only serves as verification that I'm on the right track.
Spinning back around to face the computer once again, I start to wonder if he carries the filing cabinet key with him or if it might be somewhere inside the office. I open the top drawer of the desk, and nothing is there other than some ink pens, paperclips, a stapler, and a letter opener.
"Think Chloe," I whisper to myself. "Where would you put a key if you were trying to hide it?"
Looking around the office, I look for anything that might seem out of place, but not be completely obvious if you weren't explicitly looking for it. Scanning the room, my eyes move past the coat rack, the huge window, and to the bookshelf. On top of the shelf is an old clock, but the hands aren't moving. Maybe it could be there. I walk over, lift it up, and what do I find? Absolutely nothing.
I'm starting to become discouraged when I remember that my mom used to keep the spare house key taped to the bottom of one of the chairs on our front porch. It was right out in the open, but not visible to anyone who didn't know it was there. I know it's a long shot, but decide there's no harm in trying. The worst-case scenario is that I find nothing and am in the same situation I'm in now.
Starting with the shelves of books, I start feeling underneath every surface I can think of. I search under the windowsill, on the top of the doorway, the bottom of the filing cabinet, and finally, the underside of the desk drawers. I'm about to give up when I feel something near the back of the drawer. It's not a key, but a small piece of paper folded and taped. Whatever it is must be good for him to go to those lengths to hide it.
I remove the tape slowly and deliberately. I want to be able to put it back just as I had found it, and I wouldn't be able to do that if I ripped it in half while trying to take it off the bottom of the drawer. Once I finally get it free, I open it up.
The paper contains 11 lines with random letters, numbers, and symbols on each one. Can these be passwords? There's only one way to find out for sure.
After clicking the mouse to awaken the computer from sleep mode, I try the first password. It's wrong. I move onto the second one. Not the right password, either. I enter the third password, and once again, the screen tells me that it's incorrect. This time, small red letters appear under the password box, informing me that I have two attempts left until the computer is locked for 24 hours. I move onto password four, and it doesn't work either.
Suddenly I can feel myself getting anxious. Small beads of sweat begin to form on my forehead. Would he be alerted if I try the next password, and his computer gets locked? Will there be some kind of notification sent to his phone? If so, will he come rushing back to find out why I'm trying to access his system?
I sit for a moment, debating my next move. The silence in the room is deafening all of a sudden despite the ball that's going on inside the house. I know if I don't try, I'll never forgive myself, and I'll always wonder what if I had tried one more time. Fuck it, I'm going to go for it.
My hands tremble as I type the fifth password on the list. Right as I'm about to hit enter, I stop myself. What if he changes his password periodically and adds it to the list. If that's the case, the correct password would be the one at the bottom. I know it might not work, but what if the next one on the list doesn't work either?
Slowly, I key in each letter, number, and symbol, making sure not to mistype. Checking it over one last time, I press the enter key on the keyboard. The screen comes to life, and I let out a sigh of relief, unaware that I was holding my breath in the first place.
The first thing I click on is his email icon, which brings up tons of messages. I knew he was probably shady, but it doesn't take long for me to find even more than I had bargained for. I'm only looking at previously read emails so he won't be able to tell anyone has been in it, but from what I can see, he's even shadier than I thought. Not only is he fudging the numbers for numerous politicians, celebrities, and other very prominent people, it appears that he's also involved in many money laundering schemes.
In addition to all of these emails, there are also a bunch of files with various financial documents inside. These files are encrypted, but I use a little trick taught to me by a guest speaker in school to bypass it since I'm on the same network as the computer. This isn't something that's typically taught in journalism classes. It's such a secretive technique that the owners of the computers usually don't even know about it. On the one hand, if they knew the trick, they could deactivate it. On the other hand, this would bring attention to the method, making most of the encrypted files vulnerable.
These documents are just a bunch of numbers that wouldn't make sense to most people, including me. Still, I have a feeling that a professional accountant will be able to look at them, decipher their meaning, and be able to tell there's something fishy going on.
As if the emails and the financial documents aren't
enough already, I find a spreadsheet labeled 'Bank Accounts.' I open it up to find addresses, phone numbers, and account numbers at foreign banks. I don't have time to count them, but there are easily close to a hundred banks listed all over the world, and this guy has accounts at every single one of them.
My heart feels like it's going to pound out of my chest and fly around the room as I realize the goldmine of information that I've just discovered! I can't believe everything that I'm looking at, it's incredible. Even though I'm not exactly sure what all the information is, I know it's damning, and I can't believe how lucky I am to have found it.
Suddenly, I realize that not being able to go back to college might have been the best thing to ever happen to me. Maybe I don't need a degree after all. This is it. This is going to be my big break and what propels me into a role as a prominent journalist. This will give me respect from seasoned journalists right off the bat.
I'm going to be able to sell this story anywhere. It may even cause a bidding war when the news outlets find out about its contents. Hell, maybe the New Your Times will take my information and run with it. I can see it now—a full-fledged investigation into corruption. The number of high ranking government officials in these emails is astonishing. There are literally dozens and dozens of them, and that's just what I can see in the first few pages of emails.
Looking at my watch, I realize that I've completely lost track of time. I run across the room to grab my handbag so I can collect the information I've found. One of the first things you're taught in journalism classes is to always carry empty thumb drives with you. I never understood why, and the professor's only reply was that you never know when you might need them. For the first time, I understand.
My hands are trembling as I try to connect the flash drive to the USB port on the computer. I know I don't have enough space to copy all the contents of the machine, so I focus on the financial documents, the list of foreign bank accounts, and lastly, as many emails as the drive will hold.
I select the folders that I want to copy and wait as the files copy onto my thumb drive. It feels as though time is moving in slow motion, and the data seem like they're in no rush. I keep watching the clock as if I know what time Brandon is coming back, but I'm reminded that he told me he'd meet me back at the event, so he might not even come back to his office. Still, as soon as the files are done transferring, I'm getting the hell out of here.
Finally, the computer makes the alert sound to let me know that the transfer is complete. I grab the drive to pull it out of the computer just as the door flings open and in walks Brandon and whoever came to get him earlier.
"Who is this?" The man demands to know as I'm staring at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "And what is she doing on your computer? Does she work for you?"
"No, she's just a girl from the event that I brought up here for a quick fuck," Brandon adds. I can tell that he's appalled, and his demeanor towards me is completely different than it was earlier. "What in the fuck are you doing on my computer?"
Before I can answer, the other man pulls a gun out of his waistband and points it directly at my head. My usual confidence disappears in a flash, and I'm left shaking, unable to speak.
Brandon snatches the drive from my hand and violently pushes me out of his chair and onto the floor while the armed man keeps his gun trained on me. He sticks the drive back into his computer to see exactly what information I'm trying to steal from him. The man with a gun walks up behind Brandon so he can see the contents as well.
I feel sick to my stomach and am fighting the urge to vomit on the floor. I tell myself that if this is the end, I should at least die with dignity. Watching the two men studying the screen, I realize that the office door is still wide open. If I have an opportunity to get away, this is it. Not caring that I'm still half-naked, I stand up quickly and make a run for it, knowing that if I can get into the hall and start screaming, there may be someone nearby that can help me. Before I make it to the door, the man grabs me by my hair and yanks me back towards them.
"This is enough of this bullshit," he says in a deep, brooding voice. "Come with me, both of you, now!"
Chapter 6
Brandon
My head is spinning. As if I didn’t already have enough trouble with the Cartel sending Carlos with no fucking warning whatsoever, now I have to deal with this bitch snooping around my shit? What the fuck?
I make sure to keep the guest lists for events hosted in my home pretty fucking secure. Everyone is vetted, so I know there is never any funny business, but either this woman is a guest of someone else or she managed to fly in under the radar.
Who in the hell is she? More importantly, how did she get into my system and get a hold of so many files so quickly? I have everything encrypted, so if my system is ever hacked, the data should be unreadable, but in less than a half-hour, she managed to bust through that and find the majority of the most damning files and copy them to a thumb drive.
There was no way she’s just an average citizen. Is she in law enforcement? Surely she wouldn’t risk a potential case by gathering evidence illegally. None of this is making sense to me. I thought I was getting to take my frustrations out on this woman with a good, quick fuck, but now I’m standing here with a cartel member pointing a gun at my head.
Whoever she is, she doesn’t have the slightest clue what she’s done. Not only has she put her own life in danger, but my ass is now on the chopping block with her. I can see the fear in her face, and I’m sure the full realization of what she’s done will set in before long. I just hope I’m alive long enough to see that come to fruition.
All the Cartel knows is that I had this woman in my office, copying files that would implicate them, my clients, and their clients in multiple, high-profile financial crimes. The files she’s trying to take from me would be enough to put every single person away for a long time. Hell, I would probably be going to prison for the rest of my life if what she had would have made it into the wrong hands.
The Cartel is not an organization that can be reasoned with. They do not like loose ends or anything that can lead to exposing their business. Most of the time, they’ll simply eliminate any loose ends by murdering anyone with knowledge and leave them in a ditch for all to see. For what she did, we may be headed down the same path, but I have to do whatever I can to try to save my ass.
Somehow, I’m going to have to convince the Cartel that she and I didn’t hatch some kind of plan to work together behind their backs and go to the authorities. I have to make them see that I had no idea she was taking the information on the thumb drive.
“Carlos, why don’t you just put the gun down and we can talk about this,” I say, making sure the palms of my hands are visible to him at all times, so he knows I’m not a threat. “Clearly, this is a misunderstanding of epic proportions. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for whatever the fuck she’s doing.”
“Everyone always has a beuno explanation before they get a bullet between their fucking eyes, amigo,” Carlos snarls. “I’m not playing around with either of you. I’m already low on patience for having to be here, and now you’re testing the last bit that I have. Come on, both of you, have a seat right there on the couch. Ahora! I’m going to get the boss man over here.”
The boss man he’s referring to is Dimos Sanchez, and he’s the head of the Cartel. He’s in a hotel about three miles from my house. I know this because I just left his suite earlier this afternoon. He’d sent Carlos to get me so I could give him a personal update on how things were going with the money that was being laundered for him. I told him things were going exactly as planned because, up until a few minutes ago, they were. He will not be happy to see me again so soon, especially under these circumstances.
The woman is shaking as she takes a seat on the couch next to me. Part of me feels bad for her because she doesn’t have a clue what she’s in the middle of, but that feeling doesn’t last long. Neither of us would be in this p
osition if she’d kept her nose in her own business and out of mine.
“I don’t want to hear a fucking word from either of you gringos. If you try anything funny before you’re spoken to, I won’t think twice about ending you both. If you don’t cause any trouble, I’ll let Dimos decide what to do with you; otherwise, the decision is mine, amigos, and I won’t think twice about wasting you.”
The woman’s eyes grow big, and she looks at me as though she is trying to figure out what his words mean and how we can fix this. She’s looking in the wrong place because I sure as hell don’t have an answer for her. I’m still trying to figure out how to get out of this myself. Even if I’m somehow able to convince them that I had no idea she was taking information, I’ll still have to deal with the repercussions of not having better security. Since I am the best, and they pay me top dollar for what I do, they have a high expectation as to how I handle files.
We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity while we wait for Dimos to arrive. Although I’m trying to get my breathing under control, my heart is racing at speeds that have to be nearing heart attack levels.
“This better be important, Carlos,” he says once he finally arrives. “I was on my way to the airport and had to turn around. I’m not happy about that. What’s going on?”
He stares at both of us as Carlos holds us at gunpoint, wondering what happened. Refusing to speak, I let him tell his boss his version of the story. I will not cower to them.
“After our meeting, I was bringing Brandon back to his office to discuss our business plans moving into the future,” Carlos explains. “When we walked in, we found this perra sitting at the laptop, removing a thumb drive.”
Masquerade Page 4
