BLAST from the PAST
Part 2
Faith Winslow
Copyright © 2015
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
~ Chapter 1 ~
“Let me get this straight,” Julie said as she leaned closer to the counter. “You think someone at rEcore sabotaged you—but, you don’t know who, how, when, or why.” Her breasts smooshed up against the bar, reminding me how much smaller, but firmer, my own were.
“No, Julie,” I answered. “I don’t think someone at rEcore sabotaged me, I know it. I don’t really care how, or when—it’s who and why that’s important. Either I’m some really unfortunate, random fall-guy, or someone’s trying to destroy me, specifically. I’m not gonna sit around and do nothing waiting to find out which is the case.”
Julie looked at me, took a sip from her pint glass, and forced a grin across her face. “Well, count me in… I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
“Thanks,” I smiled back before taking a drag from my own glass.
Julie and I were sitting at the counter in Carson Café, in the South Side, which is where we’d first run into each other, just a few weeks ago, after not seeing each other since college. It was a comfortable, familiar place—and, it was exactly where I needed to go after the shit hit the fan at rEcore, when my one and only one-night stand turned billionaire boss called me in to the conference room, and called me out on nefarious activity I wasn’t even responsible for.
My first call was to Julie, to ask her to help me get to the bottom of things. I figured, as a reporter, she probably knew how to dig up dirt on people, and that was the type of skill I needed in this situation. Whoever was sabotaging me, for whatever reason, had to be doing so somewhere behind the scenes, and I needed someone like Julie to help me pull back the curtain.
We decided to meet at Carson Café to talk things through over some drinks, and, believe you me, Julie’s mouth dropped when I told her everything that had happened. From Joe—or “J.R.”—remembering our encounter and accusing Julie of leaking top-secret information, to the smiley face and strange characters someone hacked into my documents, she couldn’t get over it all.
Or, in her words… “That’s fucked up,” Julie said once I reached the end of my story.
“I know,” I said. It took a little more explanation, and a bit of convincing, to get Julie on the same page as me, but once I had her on my side, I felt confident that, together, we could do this.
“So who are the suspects?” Julie asked, pulling back from the bar a little. I half-expected her to pull out a notebook and pencil, like some clichéd reporter from film noir movie.
“Everyone,” I replied. From the look on Julie’s face, she didn’t like my answer.
“Everyone?” she asked back. “Try narrowing that down a little… Start with the people at rEcore. It could have been someone else, from the outside, or from your past, but it makes more sense that this was an inside job. I mean, just considering the ease of access… So, who at rEcore has something to gain, or something against you?”
I had to wonder. Everyone at rEcore had something to gain as far as leaking information or interfering with projects went. The tech world had a fat underbelly of people who’d play folks like my coworkers me and insane amounts of money to destroy a developing app or program, or delay its release just long enough that another competitor could come out with the same, or a better, product.
But I knew that Julie wanted something more narrow than this too—and, I realized that maybe not everyone at rEcore would succumb so entirely to dirty money. I’d only been working at rEcore not even a week, and I didn’t know enough about anyone there to know who would or wouldn’t do that kind of thing. I knew very little about anyone’s personal history, former employment, or current life station. How was I to know who had something to gain?
Now, as far as who had something against me… Obviously, J.R. did, but he clearly wouldn’t try to destroy his own company. So, who else was there? There was the Stephanie girl—the porn star-esque security guard with a surprising military background. She seemed to give me attitude from the moment I met her, and she seemed a little disgruntled about working at rEcore. Could she be behind all this hoopla?
My first impulse was to tell myself, Nah, that bimbo probably doesn’t even know how to turn on a computer, let alone hack into a secure system and rewrite high-level code. But then I reminded myself how wrong I’d been in my earlier assumptions about this Stephanie, and I decided not to rule her out as a suspect.
I told Julie about Stephanie, and, while she agreed Stephanie wasn’t the prime suspect, she also agreed not to count her out. “Who knows what anyone’s capable of?” Julie said. “But, really, you should know better than to judge someone based just on their appearance.” She ran her fingers through her pink hair and readjusted her body on the stool.
“So who else is there?” she asked.
“I can’t think of anyone else,” I replied. “I haven’t really been there long enough to make any enemies, and I didn’t even meet everyone that works there.”
“Hmmm,” Julie hummed. “Well, is there anyone else who you had any type of uncomfortable or awkward moment with? Anyone who seemed snarky or rude, or defensive?”
I thought for a moment and remembered my dinner with Gigi. “My supervisor,” I told Julie. “When we went to dinner after my first day, we ran into J.R., and she didn’t like the way I acted around him. She even said something about how I wouldn’t last long at rEcore—or anywhere—if that was how I acted around my superiors.”
“In-ter-es-ting,” Julie said, dragging out each syllable. “And how exactly did you act around J.R.? What didn’t she like about your behavior?”
“Well, first I made some comment about how he’d picked up our tab,” I explained. “And, she said he didn’t need to do anything to get women other than say his name. Then, when he came over to talk with us, I guess I gave him a bit of attitude, and a bit of the cold shoulder. She didn’t like it.”
“Hmmm,” Julie hummed again. “Do you think she sensed anything? Do you think she has any clue that you and J.R. have a past?”
I thought about Julie’s question and didn’t know how to answer. I shrugged my shoulders. There hadn’t been anything I’d said or done, expressly, to indicate that fact, but who knows what vibes any of us gives off or what any one of us is thinking? That night, I’d thought J.R. didn’t remember me, and I later found out that wasn’t the case at all… So, like Julie had said earlier, Who knows what anyone’s capable of?
“Was there anyone else who might have had reason to think there was something between you and Joe? You said you saw him at work earlier in the day, before you knew who he was. Was there anyone around you when you saw him? Did you tell anyone anything?”
I had to give Julie credit. She was asking some good questions, and she really knew what she was doing. I was glad I’d asked her for her help, and even gladder that she was giving it.
“Becky, from HR, was there when I saw him,” I replied. “I go
t all flustered, but we talked our way out of it. I said I’d seen a blast from the past, and she said she hoped it was a good one—and that I’d probably run into other people I knew at some point.”
“Interesting,” Julie said, raising her eyebrow. “She works in HR, you said? That’d give her access to all kinds of info—so, she’s definitely on our list. Anyone else?”
“Hmm,” I purred. Now I was the one humming. “One other person—Edgar. I told him I ran into a guy I recognized, and he asked lots of questions, kidding around and hinting at something more.”Julie looked at me inquisitively. “He’s probably the coolest person I met at rEcore,” I added. “Though, I guess that doesn’t mean anything, does it?”
“Not really,” Julie responded. “But it does mean we have another possible suspect.”
“So, we have Stephanie, Gigi, Becky, and Edgar?” I asked, tallying them on my fingers.
“Looks like it,” Julie answered. “It may not be any of them, mind you… But, at least we’ve got a good place to start.”
~ Chapter 2 ~
“This is Kevin,” Julie said when she showed up at my door, accompanied by a computer geek, the next morning. I was expecting her to come alone, to work on our “investigation,” and I had no idea who this joker was.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, a moment later, “but I decided to call him in on this too. He has some very valuable skills.”
I didn’t know how to respond to Julie, because, yes, I did mind that she’d called Kevin in on this. I wanted as few people involved as possible, and there were now one too many chefs in the kitchen.
Kevin walked into my apartment as if it were his own, and headed straight for the sofa. He sat down, pulled up his messenger bag, and pulled out his laptop. “Got any coffee?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll go make it… Julie, come help me.”
Once we were in the kitchen—with the other chef out in the living room—I gave Julie a look like no other. “Why’d you bring him here? You didn’t even talk to me about it first… I think the less people—”
Julie cut me off before I could continue. In a hushed whisper, she explained, “There are some things I don’t know how to do—and some things you know how to do but shouldn’t. Kevin is here to do those things for us… Trust me, it’s a good call. This isn’t his first rodeo. He knows how to keep his hands clean… Do you?”
As I shoveled grounds into the filter, I considered Julie’s question. I did know a lot about computers and technology, but, as they say, I’d only ever used my powers for good. I had no practical knowledge or experience of doing anything below the radar—but, apparently, this dude, Kevin, did.
“All right,” I said in resignation. “But let’s walk on thin ice here. He only needs to know what he needs to know, nothing more—and no one else comes in on this. Okay?”
“Okay,” Julie echoed back. “Plus, he’s kinda cute, don’t ya think?”
I rolled my eyes at my friend and couldn’t help but giggle. “Leave it to you,” I said, shaking my head.
“Seriously,” she said. “I think I’d like to bang him.”
“Go ahead,” I smiled. “Just don’t do it in my apartment.”
Julie and I continued to joke around for a few more moments, discussing our research plans for the day, as well as the dirty things she wanted to do with Kevin come evening. It was an unexpected moment of fun and levity in what had been one of the strangest weeks in my entire life, and it felt good to actually mix the seriousness with girl talk.
When the coffee was done brewing, we called Kevin into the kitchen and each prepared a mug before going back into the living room and commencing our investigation.
“So,” Julie started, taking rein of the conversation, “I figured we should start with Gigi—or, Gretchen Gordon. She’s probably the most ‘connected’ one on the list. It’s safe to say she has the most power and access, and she probably has a lot of skill, and maybe even some incentive. She was very bitchy to you about how you acted with J.R., right?”
I looked at Julie, trying to indicate as best I could that that last piece of information was TMI—it was something that our boy Kevin didn’t need to know in order to carry out his part in the process.
“Gigi sounds good,” I answered after my eyes relayed their message.
“You and I will do some internet research on her,” Julie said to me, “and Kevin’s gonna get in on rEcore’s servers to track her activity. We’re doing this all together so that we can share what we find with each other, when we find it. So, let’s keep that in mind—and, any time you find anything that seems promising, share it with the rest of us… That’s how the pieces of any puzzle come together.”
I nodded my head at Julie and started setting up my laptop. I didn’t nod at Kevin though, since didn’t feel I had to.
We each sat around and did our business for a couple of hours before things got interactive. It took us all that long to get some kind of groundwork—for Kevin to get past all the firewalls, encryption, and other security measures, and for Julie and me to get past all the basic, “bred, born, and raised” basic background info.
We already knew she went to Pitt, so that was no big surprise. She told me that she’d graduated from there two years before I got there—and that was true. But what she didn’t tell me was that she also got her graduate degree at Pitt, in a three-year program… which put her and me on the same campus for one year.
That really wouldn’t have been any type of red flag, but for the fact that Julie found an archived old MUDD that operated during that time. A MUDD, for those who aren’t familiar, is an online RPG (role-playing-game) platform—and this particular one she found was moderated and run by three people: Kelsey Waters, Gretchen Gordon, and Tommy Ferguson.
Tommy Ferguson… my ex-boyfriend from college. The guy I lost my virginity to, etc., etc.
“That’s weird,” was all Julie could say. And, I really, really hated the fact that Kevin was there.
But, alas, he did provide some useful information. “Gretchen’s shadow account receives a copy of every file that’s uploaded onto the system by those working under her,” he said out of nowhere, interrupting Julie and me as we talked about the man who broke my hymen.
“So whatever you uploaded,” he went on, “she instantly got access to it, and it’s impossible to tell what, if anything, she did with it from that point on… Figuring that out would require me to hack into this system even further—to access what’s above her. She’s pretty high up there, which means I’d have to reach really high… and I don’t know if I can do it, at least not without putting my ass on the line. I can try, but I’m not making any promises.”
“Do what you can,” Julie said. Though, I felt her faith in him was a little blind. I know a lot about computers, and, sure, like I said, I’ve only ever used my powers for good, but at least I knew how to use them, and it didn’t seem to me like this Kevin joker knew how to use his. You get what you pay for, and, as far as I knew, we weren’t paying anything.
In any event, I was more intrigued by what Julie and I had stumbled upon than what Kevin had. What he had found out made sense in any corporate scenario. Backing up files, giving upper levels immediate access—checks and balances, accountability, and accounting… It made sense.
But Gretchen Gordon and Tommy Ferguson operating and moderating the same MUDD? It’s a small world… but is it really that small?
I kept trying to find more on the combo of those two names, anywhere I could, and got a few more hits. It was all stuff pertaining to the MUDD, and it only referenced them in conjunction as the op/mods. So, blah, what little I’d found hadn’t been very helpful.
It was around 2 p.m. when our third wheel, Kevin, said he’d had enough for the day and wanted to call it quits. Again, I guess you get what you pay for.
“Okay,” Julie said, glancing at me, as if asking for approval. “Mind giving me a ride home?” she asked him.
“I
guess not,” he said, collecting his stuff.
“Thanks,” Julie said. Then she turned and winked at me.
She was about to make good on all those things she’d said in the kitchen.
~ Chapter 3 ~
I texted Julie THREE times to tell her that she’d left her laptop at my apartment. I tried calling her a few times, too—but it went straight to voicemail. Whatever she was doing, it sure as hell better have been worth it, because I was getting a little bit tired of waiting for her to respond.
Call me an old lady if you will, but it was almost 9 p.m., and I was tired as fuck. I wanted to go to bed, but I couldn’t… I didn’t feel right about it. It was still kind of early, and it wouldn’t have been unreasonable for her to want to come get her computer back. I figured I could at least stay up for another hour, right?
I lay down on the couch with my phone in my hand. There was no harm in kicking back while I left Julie’s window of opportunity open.
I must have fallen asleep, but the next thing I knew, it was 10:30 p.m., and the window had closed—but, nonetheless, there was a knock at my door. I jumped up from the couch, grabbed Julie’s laptop, and shouted, “Took you long enough, dumbass.”
When I turned the knob and held out the computer, my heart skipped a beat and I was taken back a little.
“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be Julie.”
“Well, I’m not,” J.R. said, staring at me intently.
I felt as if I was going to melt.
“May I come in?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, leaning back and opening the door wider.
He slid past me, and his shoulder grazed mine in the process.
“I need to talk to you about something,” he said. “And I need to tell you something.”
“Okay,” I said, shutting the door and turning to him. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, softly, yet firmly. “And I believe you.”
Blast From The Past 2 Page 1
