White-Hot Hack (Kate and Ian #2)(25)

“Do you think—” She stopped speaking suddenly as if she were embarrassed by the request she’d been about to make.

“What is it?”

“I was just wondering if I could drop off a résumé. I know I’d have to go through the proper channels and fill out an application, but it would be great to have a professional contact.”

“Sure. No problem. Just check in at the front desk and tell the receptionist you’re there to see me. I play squash from one to two on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but otherwise I should be there. If not, my assistant Sheila will be.”

“Thank you. That would be great. I really appreciate it.”

“Sure. No problem.”

She nursed her gin and tonic while he conversed with the bartender and waited patiently until he finished his drink and left.

“All set?” Ian asked when she got back in the car and they drove away.

“Yep.”

“Any roadblocks?”

“None. I’ll be paying a visit to the company on Tuesday between one and two.”

“When he’s not there.”

“Exactly. But his assistant Sheila will be.”

“Nicely done.”

“It was actually very pleasant. He’s a nice guy, easy to talk to. Do you know what the worst part was?”

“What?”

“I discovered I really hate gin.”



Kate watched the minutes tick by on the dashboard clock. At exactly 1:50, she walked into the building and approached the reception desk. There were public restrooms in the lobby—a separate one for men and women—but to Kate’s relief they looked as if they could only accommodate one person at a time, and both doors were closed. Just beyond the reception desk to the right was a long hallway. She spotted the conference rooms Ian had noticed when he’d visited the company to obtain the CIO’s signature on the audit agreement. Next to them, a drinking fountain separated a set of larger employee restrooms.

“Good morning,” she said, careful not to sound too chipper. “Garrett Linder asked me to drop off my résumé.”

The receptionist dialed a number, and when no one answered, she hung up the phone. “I’m sorry. Mr. Linder is not answering his phone.”

“Oh, right. He mentioned he plays squash on Tuesdays and Thursdays and if he wasn’t here I could walk it back to Sheila.”

“I’m sorry, but that area is restricted and I’d need his approval to issue a visitor badge.” The receptionist smiled and extended her hand as if she was happy to accept the résumé. “I can hold on to it and make sure he gets it.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I really wanted to give him the résumé personally. He was so nice to agree to take a look at it.” Kate glanced at her watch. “I’m sure he won’t be long.”

She swallowed hard and covered her mouth with her hand. She’d applied foundation that was two shades lighter than she normally wore, and she’d skipped the blush entirely. The result had been a paler-than-normal complexion. She’d come up with the idea on her own, and if it worked, she’d be sure to use it again.

“Are you okay?” the receptionist asked.

Kate leaned in, lowering her voice a little. “Morning sickness. The name’s a bit of a misnomer because I seem to have it all day long. It’s especially bad today, but I was in the area and really wanted to cross this off my list.”

“I know exactly how you feel. I had it something awful with my daughter.” She looked at Kate sympathetically and motioned to a row of chairs. “You can wait over there if you’d like. Hopefully he’ll be back soon.”

Kate waited five minutes and approached the desk again. “I think I’m going to be sick, and someone is already using the lobby restroom,” she whispered urgently. “Do you have a garbage can?” There were tears in her eyes, and she hoped her expression conveyed her mortification at something so embarrassing happening in such a public place.

The receptionist looked at Kate in horror and pointed toward the conference rooms over her shoulder. “There’s another set of restrooms back there. I’ll buzz you in.”

Kate took off and right when her hips hit the low metal turnstile, she heard a buzzing sound and it swung open. Running, she ducked into the bathroom, and as soon as the door closed, she smiled and nonchalantly walked over to a stall and locked herself inside. From her bag, she pulled a USB drive, pen, and notebook and placed everything on the floor. On the first page of the notebook she’d jotted a to-do list. The first two items were mundane, scheduling meetings and replying to e-mails. The last item was starred and said in all caps: RUN REPORT FOR TED BROWN, which was the name of the CEO. She left another USB drive and notebook with a similar to-do list but a different name on the counter next to the last sink. When she left the bathroom, she ducked into one of the conference rooms and left a third set of materials on the table.

On her way out, she kept her head down as if she were too embarrassed to make eye contact with the receptionist and walked out the door.

It was over an hour’s drive home, and her phone rang when she was almost there. “Yes, lover,” she said.

“Hello, sweetness. I’m calling to congratulate you on a job well done. You know how happy it makes me to have control of a client’s network.”