by Debra Webb
Entering the security offices from the stairwell, he took a moment to just appreciate all they’d accomplished. At one time, he’d been a kid on the other end of a computer connection, breaching firewalls and protective algorithms far weaker than those Gray Box employed now.
As he walked toward Sam’s workspace, he couldn’t suppress the sense of pride in their accomplishments. He and Sam had met in juvenile detention, both serving time for cyber crimes against government agencies. Now, still friends and equal partners in business, they were entertaining requests from government agencies worldwide for the proprietary and far superior security systems they’d developed.
“What’s so sensitive you won’t use the company email, Sam?” Rush waited while his friend’s fingers flew over the keyboard, his face lit by the glow from the multiple-monitor array.
At last Sam sat back, cracking his knuckles. “It’s subtle and I’m still tracking things down, but I think someone out there is taking a shot at us,” he replied with a grin.
Attacks were fairly common, considering Gray Box was the pinnacle of cloud-based security. Hackers who resembled Rush and Sam in their youth frequently tried to break the unbreakable Gray Box. The person who succeeded would have bragging rights within the shadow community for life.
Rush studied the screens, though the pattern wasn’t clear to him. “Have you picked up a code trail?”
“No.” Sam scowled at the center monitor.
“Were they taking a crack at specific boxes? Our big clients aren’t exactly confidential.”
“That would be near impossible to figure out.” Sam eyed him over his square black-framed glasses, his lip curled in disgust. “That kind of thing is beneath my paygrade. We have countless forgotten-password lockouts every day. Hell, every hour of every day.”
“Then why haul me down here?” Rush propped a hip on the edge of the desk.
“There was an attempt on the main system through an admin access,” Sam replied.
“Doesn’t that happen every day, too?”
“Not on old backdoor usernames.” Sam’s mouse circled code on another screen.
Rush listened attentively to Sam’s explanation. Subtle was definitely the right word if this was an attack and not another standard poke at the bear. “We haven’t used that goofy name on anything current have we?”
“Of course not. We retired it as an outdated antique.”
Rush stood up and rocked back on his heels. As fast as their tech business advanced, a term, an approach, even a username could be rendered useless in less than a year. This particular admin name had been one they’d used as kids when they’d left back doors open for later access. Still, among those with a hacker mindset, especially a young hacker mindset, it wasn’t impossible to come up with that character combination.
Sam leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming on the armrests. “Did you fire anyone lately?”
“Not anyone capable of this.”
“So the latest assistant didn’t have any tech skills?” Sam wiggled his eyebrows. “She had great legs.”
“I didn’t fire her, I moved her to marketing.” Trisha didn’t qualify as jilted and she definitely didn’t have tech skills. Per their original agreement, he’d set her up with a job that suited her and since they were attending tonight’s gala fund-raiser together, they’d still be seen as a couple by the media. “What about you?” He turned the tables on Sam. “Any boastful pillow talk lately?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Sam sat up straight, throwing an arm wide to encompass the aisles and aisles of servers behind him. “You’re the only one who gets out of the office enough to have a social life.”
Rush laughed. It was an old joke. Sam, terminally shy, preferred to keep a computer screen between him and his romantic liaisons. Not even the fortunes they’d amassed and invested seemed to give his friend much confidence in social settings. “Come to the fund-raiser and I’ll introduce you to someone.”
“No, thanks. I don’t need your weepy castoffs,” Sam joked. He surged forward and tried another search, sat back disappointed again. “Have you pissed off anyone lately?”
“I piss off people every day,” Rush admitted. “No one comes to mind as a possible culprit.”
“Fine,” Sam said with a resigned sigh. “This bugs me enough that you needed to know. I’ll keep working at it and see if anything pops open.”
“Thanks. I’ll mull it over and let you know if I think of anyone who might use that name.”
Sam nodded absently, his fingers already tapping out more commands on the keyboard. They were a pair. Rush might be the face of Gray Box, but Sam was the virtual muscle and together they were the top minds in software and development. If there was a problem on the horizon, they’d root it out and take appropriate action.
Back upstairs in his office, Rush switched gears and reviewed notes from his recent talks at local schools. Had he inadvertently used that backdoor name as a part of his example? If so, it would’ve been the first time.
While he always gave a quick background explanation of the cocky hacker kid he’d been, and his stint in juvie because of his mistakes, he never dwelled on it or gave up information that could be used as a guide to send a kid down the wrong path. Usually he focused on the creativity, team effort and hard work that had eventually made Gray Box a household name.
When he was satisfied that he hadn’t inadvertently planted ideas in the head of an ambitious youngster, he returned to the other items on his agenda. He really wanted the contract with the company he’d walked out on yesterday morning. Considering the sensitive nature of the Family Services offices, the information security package he’d presented should have been a no-brainer.
Yes, the holiday season was a tough time to wrap up that kind of deal. On the flip side, Rush knew they were still in the first quarter of their fiscal year and he wanted a slice of that security upgrade budget. He drafted a snarky email making it clear they could contract his company to do it right or they could contract him later to fix the inevitable mess.
Reading it through he knew his lawyers would have a collective heart attack if he sent it, so he deleted it and started over. The second draft was worse than the first, so he shoved back from his desk. Pacing the width of his spectacular view of San Francisco, he fought to corral his fragmented thoughts.
At the soft rapping on his door, he turned hoping to see Lucy. Not my day, he thought, waving Trisha in. Why couldn’t the woman stay at her new desk with the marketing team? Behind her, he saw Lucy wasn’t at her desk. Was there something about the space that actually repelled his assistants?
“How is your day going?” he asked.
She gave a delicate shrug of one shoulder, setting the silk of her top rippling. “I won’t complain.” The curt tone and sharp smile set off alarms in his head. “What time will the limo come by tonight?”
“Limo?” Rush spotted Lucy in the conference room with Torry. They appeared to be discussing a presentation spread across the table. Why just the two of them? The hem of her dress rose just a bit as she leaned over the table and Rush’s brain flooded with the memory of her warm, ticklish skin just above and behind her knees. Yes, he’d told her to meet with Torry, but she was his personal assistant. She wasn’t here to help everyone with a random question. He closed his eyes, willing away the childish jealousy.
“The children’s hospital fund-raiser.” Trisha snapped her fingers at him. “It is the social event this week. Don’t even think of ducking it.”
“Sure.” His gaze remained locked on that conference room where Lucy laughed as Torry grinned. Rush willed himself to get a handle on the surge of jealousy before he did something stupid, like toss Torry out on his ass along with his stock options.
“Rush? Rush!”
“Yes?” He gave Trisha his full attention, but he could see from the temper in her eyes, coloring her cheeks, it was far too late.
“Who is she?”
He met her angry outburst w
ith the cool detachment he relied on when personal attachments turned sticky. “I answered that question last night.”
“No,” she countered immediately. “You dodged that question.” With a toss of her hair, she stomped out of his office and into the space that had been hers only twenty-four hours ago, leaving the door open.
“Come back here.” The last thing he wanted was to air this out in front of everyone.
“I won’t. You could have shown me the courtesy of being discreet.” Her voice, breaking on false emotion, carried through the executive space and heads turned to watch. Lucy’s included.
“Trisha,” he warned. “Let’s discuss this like adults.” He tipped his head back to his office. “Please,” he added.
“Is this a conquest issue? You just need a challenge?”
“Enough.” At the moment, he just wanted her to stop shouting. “This is a silly misunderstanding.”
“Silly!” she screeched, throwing up her hands. “Hardly.” Snatching a picture frame from Lucy’s desk, she shook it at him. “You, God’s gift, probably think you can convert her.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Why hadn’t he installed privacy glass on the assistant spaces as well? Not that it would help much since only the executive offices and conference rooms had actual doors.
“She’ll be the first thing you fail at, you idiot!” The picture frame landed with a thud against his chest and he barely caught it before it tumbled to the floor.
“Trisha, stop.”
“No! I quit. That lousy marketing job is beneath me.” She turned up her nose. “And all your charities and community events are boring as hell. You aren’t worth it.”
She dashed at her cheeks as if she was crying, but he was close enough to see her eyes were dry. The elevator doors opened just as she reached them. He had to assume Melva had called up the express car. Trisha flounced off, making a dramatic exit on her spiked heels.
In the ringing silence that followed, he looked at the picture in his hands and smiled with relief. Not a boyfriend. Lucy had personalized her space with a candid shot of Gwen and Jackson cuddled up in front of a Christmas tree. Trisha must have assumed by this that Lucy was gay.
Suppressing a laugh, he replaced the framed picture on Lucy’s desk and returned to his office, switching on the privacy glass. If that was the way Trisha needed to save her dignity, he’d manage the inevitable ribbing from his executive team. Having her out of the offices and out of his life was worth the momentary embarrassment.
Everyone up here had started as his friend and they all understood the limits of his personal life. Even Lucy. Especially Lucy, he thought with a grimace.
He briefly considered inviting her to attend the fund-raiser with him and decided it was a bit much to extend her first day like that. The dark shadows under her eyes gave away her travel fatigue and he couldn’t ask her to come along simply to save his pride.
Besides, with just the one suitcase, he doubted she’d packed anything suitable for a gala. I travel light. Somehow those words made him feel worse, although he couldn’t pinpoint why.
Usually he worked past six, but not today. He needed to get out of here and get his head together for tonight and he sent Lucy a note that he was going home.
During the short walk to his condo he had a rare flash of regret. Home used to mean the boathouse and evenings with Lucy. Now it was a cold, modern condo with no soul and dinner for one prepared by his personal chef. Trisha was right about one thing—he was an idiot for letting Lucy get away.
He warmed up the food as directed, seriously debating skipping the fund-raiser. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d blown off a charity event at the last minute. The guest list would be littered with locals loaded with money and good intentions along with a few celebrities.
Trisha was right about that, too. He couldn’t duck out tonight. Rush needed to set the fund-raising bar high enough to make a difference and get the new expansion off the ground. He and Sam had toured the children’s cancer ward just last week, bringing the latest video game consoles into the lounge and taking on all challengers. The kids who couldn’t make it were able to watch from their rooms and when nurses approved, they’d been able to duel with a few of those isolated patients on handheld systems.
He ate dinner, not really tasting the food. Reluctantly, he pulled together his tuxedo for the gala and shored up his gloomy mood by calling the building valet for his Tesla Roadster. So what if it was the car Lucy’s laughter had filled while he’d navigated the seaside cliffs on a hot summer night? He relegated the memory to the back of his mind, along with all the other mistakes and unfixable problems of his past.
Although he could walk or take the limo, he wanted to make a statement. The magnificent lines of the near-silent car earned admiring and curious looks everywhere he went. When he pulled up at the hotel tonight, he wanted all eyes on his solitary arrival.
Life had taught him early the best way to climb out of any difficult situation was to keep moving forward.
Chapter Six
Outside, darkness had fallen over the city and the lights from surrounding buildings twinkled like stars around the Gray Box office. Everyone had gone home and, in the quiet of the empty executive floor, Lucy could hear the clock ticking. Not a real clock; the interior design was too modern for that. No, she heard that incessant ticking in her head and her heart, knowing Gwen and Jackson were running out of time.
Just after lunch she’d received another picture of Kathrein with her nephew. Both Kathrein and Jackson were wearing different clothing and the old man gripped a calendar page with red Xs marking the days she’d lost. The pictures gave Lucy zero reassurance that her family was safe. The armed bodyguard loomed like a vicious shadow in the background. Her demand for a current picture of Gwen remained unanswered.
He’d given her one way out of this. She had to get inside that Gray Box and get out before anyone discovered her breach. Definitely to save Gwen and Jackson, but to protect Rush, as well. Nothing good would come of her return to his life.
His current girlfriend had dumped him, making a public scene Rush surely hated. No matter his flattering words about her having the background and mindset to assist him, once she succeeded in stealing the documents, he’d never forgive her.
Since Kathrein had kidnapped her family and dumped this outrageous task on her, she’d been racking her brain for all the tips and tricks she’d learned while listening to Rush talk about computer security. It couldn’t be impossible. The consequences of failure shivered through like a cold wind as she glanced at the picture of her family.
No, she had to believe. Rush had taught her very few things were unbreakable. Despite the Gray Box motto, she knew there had to be a way in. She’d gone as far as possible with direct attempts on the journalist’s box and come up empty. Now her only hope was to find a back door or a weaker administration access. She poked and prodded through the system, getting no closer to the documents she needed.
When she’d taken herself on the tour today, she’d met people from several departments and asked questions about the various roles within the company, under the guise of understanding how things meshed and overlapped. The answers gave her insight she intended to use as entry points, but those replies also confirmed that Kathrein should have blackmailed a real hacker. Someone as good as Rush had been before he’d flipped his focus to protecting data.
She dropped her head into her hands and ordered herself to think. Rush had also taught her the value of tenacity. He lived it every day. The man never gave up on a target.
That’s why she’d left without a word and faked a new boyfriend in Chicago. That last evening hadn’t been the first time he’d stood her up. Rush had been clear from the start that he never planned to shift his remarkable dedication from business to nurture a personal relationship. He wanted physical intimacy and friendship. In turn, she’d never wanted him to change into something he wasn’t. It hadn’t been his fault she’d broke
n the rules and fallen for a man who didn’t believe in love. He was too perceptive. She’d had to get out on her own terms before he discovered how deep her emotions ran and forced her out of his life.
Frustrated with that useless train of thought, the tick-tick-tick banging in her head, she rocked back in her chair. Swiveling around, she peeked through the glass wall, half expecting Rush to be sitting at his desk. The office was dark and empty, the lights of the city skyline sparkling from the other side of all that glass. Rush always pushed forward with relentless tunnel vision and this unarguable statement of success was the latest proof.
She still admired him for his dedication to improving himself, his work and the community. One night at the boathouse after she’d cooked dinner, he’d reluctantly shown her a picture of himself and Sam as teenagers. It hadn’t been long after their release from detention. At sixteen, he’d been rough around the edges, with shaggy black hair and gritty determination in his bold blue gaze. He’d been down on his luck, but she could see he was already looking for a way back into the game.
That candid picture had shown her everything she needed to know about him. A brilliant man with a creative entrepreneurial spirit, he’d hauled himself up and out of that mess and made his first windfall in his early twenties. Maybe she should tell him the truth. If anyone could understand why she was doing the wrong thing for the right reasons, it would be Rush.
If anyone could devise a better solution, it would be him, as well. When they’d been dating and she’d been sincerely frustrated over struggles and aggravations in academic circles as she’d worked on her MBA, his creative, hypothetical solutions ranged from innocent and ornery to complex and dazzling.
