by Nella Tyler
Her thoughts troubled, she decided that she would look to see if any additional articles about Brecken or Shaw & Burk appeared in the Times tomorrow. She would also take the time to do a little more digging on her own. Maybe she could find more information about the company, its clients, and where the hell it managed to pull in so much money.
While she wasn't particularly worried or alarmed, she figured that if she were committed to working for such a prestigious, and apparently controversial, company, she would need to find out as much about it as she could.
Chapter 4
Brecken waited impatiently at the restaurant for his client to arrive – one of his biggest, if the deal went through. The restaurant was a little out of the way, located in one of the southern suburbs of Boston, but he preferred it that way. It was not fancy by any means, but it wasn't exactly a Denny's, either. It was some family-owned restaurant that served home-style cooking. Brecken had met clients here before, especially those that he didn't want to be seen coming and going from the company offices downtown.
While he waited, he thought about Heather, and by default, Alyson. Heather was like a breath of fresh air. He had really enjoyed having dinner with her the other night. It wasn't that she was so unique or unusual, but she was different. She carried herself well, spoke confidently, and didn't feel an endless need to fill silent gaps in conversation. She seemed to prefer the simple things in life, unlike Alyson. Alyson. He knew he would have to have a talk with her soon, but the thought of doing it today made him cringe. Still, he knew that when it came to Alyson, putting off the inevitable was impossible.
He grimaced. It was so annoying to be at the mercy of other people. Every day, or so it seemed lately, he regretted going into business with her. At first it had been great, a logical idea. Together, they could be incredibly successful, but apart, he wondered. He had his secrets, just as she had hers, and in turn, so did the company. He just hoped that her impulsive behavior and sometimes-runaway mouth wouldn't get them into too much trouble. He was already fielding threatened audits by the IRS and some gossip that his company was involved in illegal dealings and had hidden offshore accounts. That was another headache he didn't need. And, where had these rumors come from, anyway?
He always took special care to keep his meetings with clients, big and small, confidential. In many cases, his clients insisted on it. Fine with him. Still, when it came to Alyson, he just couldn't be sure. This uncertainty led him to feel a bit defenseless, and he didn't like feeling that way. He was used to being on the offensive. Proactive. With Alyson, he always felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Still, there was nothing he could do, at least, not now, about the problems that assailed his company. He certainly couldn't discuss his concerns with anyone else.
Did he want to? Sometimes he yearned for someone that he felt he could truly count on and trust. He thought he had found that person in Alyson. What a big mistake that had been. A big one. He had allowed her beauty and their sexual attraction to one another to override his gut instincts. He would never allow that to happen again. But the damage was already done and it looked like he would have to live with it for quite some time.
He drank one cup of coffee, and then two. He glanced at his watch. His prospective client was fifteen minutes late. He grew impatient. He had a lot to do today and waiting around certainly wasn't appreciated. He felt the constant pressure and stress, and he wondered if it was all worth it.
He glanced down at the paper he had just read, thinking about the article he had read, and the brief mention of Julian Assange, the former editor-in-chief of WikiLeaks, founded in 2006 following a rather notorious career as a hacker and computer programmer. Brecken had done his share of hacking and was quite good at it, but he had no desire for the negative notoriety that Assange had achieved, nor the desire to have to flee to another country to avoid criminal prosecution.
In his business, a lack of confidentiality, trust, or even the slightest hint of threat perceived by one or the other party was enough to keep most of his business dealings right where they belonged – meaning private.
He sighed, finished his second cup of coffee, and glanced at his watch again. The client was a half-hour late now. It was obvious that the guy wasn't going to show up. Brecken wasn't going to bother calling him to see what had happened. He didn't really care. Anyone who stood him up without notifying him of a change in plans, schedule, or even delay, lost a chance to deal with him, no matter how much money was involved. That's not how he ran his business and he had no desire to do business with anyone who felt otherwise. Besides, it was downright rude. Brecken had gone out of his way to meet his client down here, and this was how he was repaid?
He picked up his phone and texted his driver to come around. As he waited, he glanced out the window. Frowned. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Turning from the window, he glanced at the patrons in the restaurant. No one seemed to be watching him or paying the least bit of attention to him. Then again, why should they? He had made an attempt to somewhat disguise himself, wearing a golfer's cap and a pair of plastic-framed glasses with clear lenses. He sometimes had to resort to such steps in order to go about his business without ever-present hacks and gossip column photographers somehow managing to find out where he was and haranguing him.
Not seeing anything alarming in the restaurant, he once again looked outside the window. He watched passersby, shoppers, and people rushing here and there, like they always did. No one stood out. He shrugged, deciding that he was just annoyed, overly sensitive, and frustrated. He thought about Heather and tried to call her again, but she didn't take the call. She should be in the office by now, early on a Monday morning. Surely, she would hear her cell phone ring. Then again, maybe she turned it off when she was at work. He appreciated the diligence, but was frustrated when she didn't pick up. He just couldn't catch a break.
There were times when his money didn't get him everything he wanted. He couldn't just snap his fingers and tell Heather to be at his beck and call, even if he would've liked it. He had way too much respect for her than to treat her like that. He had just met her, but he nevertheless felt very comfortable around her, or at least he had at dinner. Only time would tell whether or not that would remain true. He had gone through a few business managers for the billing department since his breakup with Alyson.
It seemed as if every person he hired, and okay, they were all women, Alyson had such a problem with and she either drove them away or he got fed up with her haranguing him and let them go. He certainly hoped that wouldn't be the case with Heather. She captivated him. He smiled when he thought of the sight of the two of them in Heather's office. While she had seemed slightly alarmed by Alyson's temperament, she had stood her ground. Good for her. That's what Alyson needed – to be faced with someone who wasn't intimidated by her. Then again, he would have to warn Heather again to watch out for Alyson's temper. She had a way of getting even when things didn't go her way.
Brecken heaved a sigh when he saw his driver pull around the corner and into the parking lot. He rose, tossed some cash down on the table, picked up the soft leather satchel by his side, and left. He climbed into the car, looking forward to getting back to his office. He shook his head, thinking that it was pretty pathetic that the only place that he felt truly comfortable was at work.
He knew too many secrets.
He reached into the satchel, pulled out a folder, and studied it for several minutes. It was the dossier of the client he was supposed to have met at the restaurant. Brecken was not pleased. Sometimes, his clients needed to be reminded that they were playing with fire. He was not one to be toyed with.
By the time he got back to his office, he was on a slow burn. He nodded wordless greetings at those he passed in the hallways, peeked into Heather's office, but noticed she wasn't inside. Where the hell was she?
He walked to his office, closed the door behind him, and moved to sit down behind his desk. Logging onto his computer, he typed in
keys until he reached a folder that required three different passwords and eye recognition for access. He had several such documents on his computer and relied heavily on digital security. He had to.
He had several files that enabled him to open, scan, and determine DSM locations. He was able to utilize numerous powerful features that included vulnerability auditing modules for a number of services within the system, and so was able to analyze, audit, and scan a range of IP addresses, as well as tapping into remote access servers, IP addresses, machine names, operating systems, and dates of access. His retina access system enabled him to select single IP addresses or servers that scanned addresses or a scanner's IP address to check on DNS or NetBIOS, as well as address groups.
Eye scan security was vital to him and essential for his own peace of mind and security, over and above the need for passwords to unlock his computer, access certain files, and provide him with a sense of confidence that his computer files were hack proof. He himself had designed his firewalls, with alerts if anyone even so much as attempted to peek inside his documents. He had fail-safe shutdown options, and in a worst-case scenario, he’d created a hard drive eraser that he’d programmed to wipe his computer clean in a matter of seconds.
He looked into the camera. The device scanned his iris. He had one similar on his laptop at home – kept locked in a safe when he was at work – though the digital scanning on that one was an older version of the software that required him to hold a wand over his eye instead of utilizing the computer’s built-in camera. He would be replacing it soon.
It took him a few minutes to get settled, but he finally opened one of the documents in the folder regarding water rights in Bolivia. Actually, it was a lot less boring than it sounded, given that he was the only one who actually knew what was really happening down there. As he read and then reread the document, literally reading between the lines and picking up on a few well-placed keywords, a smile turned up the corner of his lips.
That all ended when he heard the familiar ding of an incoming e-mail message. He sighed with impatience and opened up another tab. It was from Alyson. He grumbled and swore under his breath. He seriously needed to do something about her and soon. This vendetta, this endless needling and disruption, or whatever it was she was doing, had to stop. He wasn't going to put up with it indefinitely.
With his fingers hovering over the message subject line, he once again was amazed at how quickly a relationship could turn from blissful to hellish. He had never asked a woman to marry him before and could only shake his head at his own foolishness. Alyson was a pro, no doubt about that. She had managed to finagle, cajole, and tempt things out of Brecken that he had never given freely before, including himself. Oh, he enjoyed the women, no doubt about that, but he had always been able to contain his relationships and prevent them from getting too complicated. There was no doubt that Alyson had completely manipulated him. Every time he saw her, he was reminded of that.
With another grumbled curse under his breath, he tapped open the e-mail.
We have to talk.
Shit. She wasn't going to let up on him until he agreed, so he returned the e-mail, agreeing and suggesting that she come over to the office at five-thirty. Most of the employees would be gone by then. Anything that Alyson had to say should be said in private and not in front of gawking onlookers.
*
Brecken managed to keep himself busy for the remainder of the day. Heather never returned his call, but then again, she probably hadn’t left her office yet. He didn't call her again or walk by to see if she was around. He didn't want to appear too obvious or overly interested in her. He wanted her to get more comfortable in her job and that wouldn’t happen if he kept checking up on her. That wasn’t his job. He had hired her to do a job and he expected her to do it. He didn't want to make her feel pressured by his attraction, no matter how carefully he hid it. He had a feeling that Heather was very intuitive, and any untoward indication on his part that he was interested in her would probably, likely, send her scurrying, no matter how much he paid her.
He definitely wanted to get to know her better, but he also had to be careful. He always had to be careful. That fact had been drummed into him every minute since the moment he had told Alyson that they were over. She had the power to destroy him, and it didn't seem to matter to her that in destroying him, she would also destroy herself. He had learned the hard way that a woman like Alyson could not only make his life unpleasant, but could, if she wanted to, tie him up in a variety of legal issues that frankly, he had no time for.
He managed to stay focused for most of the afternoon, and by the time he glanced at his watch it was twenty after five. Better just get it over with. He decided that he would go downstairs and meet Alyson there rather than inviting her up to his office. Maybe they could take a short walk, talk about whatever it was that she wanted to talk about, and then he could send her on her way. He had had several of these "talks" over the past couple of months, none of them anything he looked forward to and most of them had ended on an unpleasant note.
To say that Alyson had trouble letting go or accepting the inevitable was an understatement. Frankly, he was getting tired of dealing with her, but he knew his options were limited. Until and unless she allowed him to buy her out, they were inextricably chained together, something that had him chaffing and growing increasingly annoyed over.
He stepped into the elevator that would take him downstairs, surprised to find that once again his thoughts were centered on Heather. There was such a difference between the two women. Then again, he hadn't thought that Alyson could turn into such a bitch. Perhaps he should distance himself from Heather, no matter how much she pulled at his senses without even realizing how attracted, sexually and intellectually, he was to her. The way she had laughed on occasion through their dinner had been so appealing.
He realized then that he was used to living in a world full of wheeling and dealing, scowling, furrowed eyebrows, mistrust, and anxiety. For a man his age, he had way too much stress. A man with as much money as he did should be living the good life without a worry in the world. So why was he doing this? Why did he constantly find himself so embroiled in issues, problems, complexities that churned his stomach acids to the point that he was afraid he was getting an ulcer?
The elevator came to a gentle halt and the doors swished open. He stepped out just as Alyson stepped through the front doors of the building. Her eyes quickly scanned the foyer and latched onto him. She was scowling, but there was nothing new about that. God, has she forgotten how to smile? How to be pleasant? He thought back to the early months of their relationship and realized, once again, that she had fooled him completely. She had showed him her false persona, but the persona had cracked and eventually, the ugliness inside had overcome even her exterior beauty and sexual appeal.
"Good evening, Heather," he said, pausing in front of her.
She lifted an eyebrow, gave him a half smile, and then glanced around. "We're talking here?"
"Actually, I thought we could go outside for a little walk."
"What's the matter, Brecken? Afraid I’ll embarrass you?"
He nodded. “Frankly, since you asked, you seem to have a difficult time holding onto your temper lately." He glanced around, noticing several office workers were beginning to make their way out of elevators toward the main doors. Two security guards sitting at a desk with computer monitors in front of them were also nearby. In the far corner, he noted that the small arrangement of a small sofa and two upholstered chairs was empty. He gestured. "Do you want to sit down?"
She nodded and allowed him to lead the way into the corner. Their footsteps echoed on the highly polished granite floor. The glass doors that spanned the front of the office building let in the glow of early evening traffic lights, headlights, and the windows from the office building across the street. He took a seat on one side of the sofa, while she took one of the upholstered chairs across from him.
"What is it?" he said
as soon as she had sat down. She looked gorgeous, as usual, and wore an off-white sheath dress that accented her ample figure. For a moment, she sat silently staring at him, and then, quite abruptly and to his surprise, she rose from her chair and sat down beside him on the sofa.
She smiled, placing her finely manicured hand on his thigh. "Can’t we put our differences behind us, Brecken? You know we’re good together. Especially in bed."
He barely refrained from heaving a heavy sigh. "I don't want to go through this again, Alyson," he said. "You know as well as I do that it's over."
She leaned closer, placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in to kiss him. Six months ago, he would have been welcomed her embrace, kissed the living daylights out of her and then some without giving a thought to anyone who watched. Now, taken by surprise, he stiffened and pulled away.
"Brecken-"
"Please don't," he said, glancing at a couple of businessmen making their way past them and out of the building. "I told you that it's-"
"It's that new bitch you hired, isn’t it?"
He never ceased to be amazed at how quickly her mood could change. Ten seconds ago, she was literally purring, and now her eyes narrowed in anger. "Alyson, for God's sake, I only hired her the other day!"
"You're fucking her, aren’t you?" she demanded, her voice growing louder.
Brecken frowned, noticed the surprised glance he received from a well-dressed, middle-aged woman walking across the foyer from the elevator to the front door. "Alyson, knock it off."
It was the wrong thing to say. She spoke angrily, apparently unconcerned that anyone in the foyer, including the security guards across from them, could hear every word.
