Murder Inc.: A Sci-fi Thriller: Book 1 (27 page)

Jennings rolled, took a cigarette from the bedside table and lit it. He drew deeply, enjoying the taste, and exhaled a plume of white smoke towards the ceiling of Samantha’s bedroom—the one that only three days ago, she had shared with Charlie.

“Those things will kill you.”

He chuckled. “No, they won’t. Not this batch.”

“What time do you have to be home?”

“Whenever. Told her I was working on the final stages of a project.” He smiled. “That’ll buy me all night if we feel like it.”

Samantha slipped out of bed naked and tied back her hair. Jennings watched her lithe body, feeling the stirrings of lust again. Technically, he was her superior at the office, but in the bedroom, she had all the pull.

“Any decision on Tabitha?”

“No change to what we discussed on Friday evening.”

“So you’re still going to give her Charlie’s job?”

“Yes.” Jennings took another drag.

“That’s just stupid.”

Jennings ground his teeth, biting down a response. He liked talking shop with Samantha. She was intelligent and practical. He bounced ideas off her, and she cut them down when they didn’t make sense. Mostly he agreed with her, but sometimes she couldn’t see past her narrow-minded opinion.

“Nothing to say to that?”

“I’d say you’re wrong.”

She slipped onto the edge of the bed and stared at him. Jennings tried to ignore her, but her displeased expression drew his attention. “I’m telling you she’s going to bring trouble. Have you looked at it all again?”

“What exactly?”

“Everything—she’s a rookie, she’s affiliated to Charlie, she took the drive from him, she’s close to Tom, and… Fox is protecting her.”

“It’s Fox’s call. He’s the one riding on it.”

“You could oppose it.” Jennings drew on his cigarette. “Why do you think he wants her on the inside?”

“Maybe he wants to fuck her."

Jennings raised his eyebrows. “I think he wants to protect her.”

“From what?”

“Either he knows she has the drive or there's something else we don’t know about." Samantha crawled off the bed and strolled to the walk-in wardrobe. “Fox is floundering. He’s too preoccupied to be making plays like that at this stage.”

“I disagree. I think he knows what's going on,” she said, reaching for hanging clothes.

“You don’t know him like I do. He—”

“What do you think Chekov would say about this?” She slipped on a white robe. “Maybe I should call him.”

Jennings snatched the cigarette from his mouth and mashed his teeth. He watched her, looking for weakness in her sureness. Her face was stern and unflinching, full of the confidence that had drawn him to her in the first place. But he’d been waiting for this. Samantha had become cocky, basking in the success of her recent results. He needed to bring her down a rung or two. “Sure, if you want to wind up like Charlie.”

Samantha marched over to the bed; eyes locked on his, and drew in close. “Is that a threat?”

Jennings took a long, final draw on the cigarette, then slipped off the bed and walked to the bathroom where he tossed the butt into the sink. He returned and started pulling on his trousers. “Of course it is. Just remember who employed you. Who helped you get to where you are. I can end it at any moment.”

Her stiff expression folded. “Maybe you can,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But you wouldn’t have gotten this far without me.”

Jennings scoffed, pulling his shirt off the floor. “You’re a hired gun. There’s plenty of others to replace you.”

Samantha climbed back onto the bed and pushed up against the pillows. She tapped the space beside her. “Come back to bed.”

“I have to leave.”

“Don’t screw this up,” she said, drawing her knees to her chest. “We’ve got a good thing going here.”

“I’m not the one made the threat.”

“I’m just saying… you need to be very careful of Fox. He's slippery. If he's backed into a corner, he'll do anything. I don't trust him.”

“I get that. But we need that drive, and at this point, I think Fox’s idea is our best chance.”

“Why don’t we just steal it from her?”

“It could be anywhere.”

“I bet she's keeping it in her apartment.”

He pulled his belt through the buckles and tied it off. “Leave it to me. If she doesn’t hand it over soon, I promise, we’ll get it from her by whatever means it takes.”

Fox sat in his chair staring out the window at the sleepy buildings below. A blue haze lifted from the city as the early morning turned to dawn. It was his favorite time of day; when the workers of the world were busy making the most of early opportunities. Fox wondered how many more early mornings he would watch from this office.

He sipped coffee, waiting for Tom Bright to arrive and discuss their plans. This morning it was all about Tabitha and making her an offer to join the company in Charlie’s vacated role. This move—despite him being in agreement—screamed of risk; the timing of Charlie’s death, the chaotic nature of the company, and his uncertain future made the possibility of something going wrong high. But he had to plough on; he felt like a man walking down a long tunnel and knowing the tiny light at the end was his only salvation. If he was to make good on his promise, he felt bringing Tabitha into the fold and securing her position was the safest move.

Tom stumbled in just after seven looking sleepy-eyed. Fox, who had sat at his desk since arriving, guided him to an armchair. They made small talk about what they had discovered on the weekend and then it was onto Charlie.

“Rough night?” Fox asked.

“Yeah,” Tom said, rubbing his eyes. “I’ve probably slept three hours since Friday. Any word on Charlie’s autopsy?”

“Not yet, but I’ve put in a call to someone I know down at the ME’s office asking them to notify me when it's completed. He’s done some work for me before. Did you play your basketball game?”

“No,” Tom said, taking a strong coffee from the ‘Bot’s tray. “We called it off and spent the afternoon sharing stories about Charlie at one of the bars in Midtown.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It was, but I kept thinking about what’s going on here. It’s impossible to relax with all of this hanging over our heads.”

“I know. I’ve run through every scenario trying to calculate the risk. There’s no easy answer. Every outcome poses a threat to someone.”

“What about Tabitha? Are we still going ahead with the plan to bring her in?”

Fox squashed his lips together and took an animated breath in consideration. “I’m not sure. I’ve been fifty-fifty on it all weekend. I can’t decide. What gets me is that Jennings agreed with me. If he’d said no, I’d be more inclined to do it, but it makes me wonder what he’s up to.”

“You don’t like it when he agrees?”

Fox shook his head as he sat opposite Tom. “Not now. Not under these circumstances when I know he’s plotting to bring me down. What do you think?”

“Ah, I don’t know. I like the idea of bringing her in. She knows a little already. Charlie told her the company isn’t strictly an investment firm. That we do ‘bad’ things.”

“Wait until she finds out what those bad things are. She might not view us so nicely.”

“Any word on those files?” Fox shook his head. “They have to be somewhere. You think Charlie gave her the drive?”

“Yes.”

Tom sat forward. “You do?”

“I think it’s the only logical explanation. I’ve analyzed the timing of every action. We know Charlie didn't send the files out over the network. He downloaded them onto the drive.”

“So you think if we bring Tabitha inside she might hand the files over?”

“That's what I hope. If she sees the truth in it all, the reasons why, and realizes it'll do more harm than good if those files get out.” Fox shrugged. “That’s always been a matter of perspective. Not everyone agrees with that.” He watched Tom carefully. “Do you, Tom? Do you still agree with what we do?”

Before Tom could answer, the door burst open and Jennings appeared.

“Robert,” Fox said, rising from his seat on the sofa. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Jennings nodded. “Have you spoken to Tabitha yet?”

“No, we—”

“Good. I don’t think we should do it.”

Fox frowned. “But you were the one who suggested it on Friday evening.”

“I know, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“Why?” Tom asked, standing.

“Because I damn well want to.”

“You’ll need to do better than that,” Fox said.

Jennings shook his head, agitated. “It’s too risky bringing in a new associate amongst all of this.”

Fox stepped closer. “All of what?”

Jennings looked at him with a wide-eyed expression, as though he was stupid. “The missing files, Charlie’s death, the company's poor performance. Jesus, Bryan, you can't seriously be thinking this is normal. The board wants results and if we can't make that happen, we're all in trouble.”

Fox stood a long time looking at Jennings. Finally, he said, “Ultimately, as the CEO, these are my concerns, Robert. Though I appreciate your concern. I'll make the decision and bear the consequences.”

“The role reports to me, though,” Jennings said, stiffening his stance. “She’s part of my staff. You’ve always let me make the decisions.”

Fox stood tall and buttoned his jacket. “It’s still my company, Robert. And this decision will be mine.” Jennings ground his jaw. “And while we’re sorting out decisions, I’m cancelling the Nightboat project.” Jennings' mouth fell open. “The timing isn’t right.”

“You can’t be serious.” Jennings stood. “Please tell me you’re not serious, Bryan?”

“I am. There’s too much going on.”

“There’s always too much going on.”

“Well, we’ll get this data issue fixed and then think about how to get the numbers back up.”

Jennings shook his head. “This is a bad move, Bryan. A very bad move.”

Fox stood resolute. Jennings' mouth twisted with resentment, his top lip quivering. He held Fox's gaze for a long moment then turned and disappeared out the door.

“You may have just started a war,” Tom said.

Fox returned to his desk and sat. “It began long before this." He swiped his screen. "I have to go away for a few days.”

“Everything okay?”

“Just putting things in order. Make sure you’re there when he speaks to Tabby for the first time. And then you take care of her from there on as her mentor. I don’t want him having anything to do with it, even if she reports to him.”

Despite a restless night filled with worry, Tabby woke early and commenced a workout on the kick bag she had set up in the spare bedroom. It took her some time to clear her mind, but eventually, after a couple of dozen kicks and punches, she slipped into her routine and the actions became smoother; quick and powerful, rather than slow and sloppy.

Afterwards, she hurried through a light breakfast of fruit and cereal, but as she ate, the worry crept back. Even the constant, underlying concern for her father and his condition had been overtaken by the fresh concerns: Charlie’s death, Jennings and Samantha’s intentions, her dealings with the NYPD detective, and her continuation to work for Janefield.

Today, she would be in the office for the first time without Charlie. That alone was enough to make her feel anxious. It would be strange not greeting him first thing, recounting their activities on the weekend, and reviewing his plan for the week. He’d died in that office and she would have to walk over the floor where he took his last breath. Her stomach turned. Could she do it?
You’ll never see him again
. It still felt surreal. She pushed the thought away, but it led to the question of his death. She wanted to know; she
had
to know. As much as returning to the office frightened her, it was the only way she might find out if the company had killed Charlie. Tom had assured her they would discover the truth, but did she need to know that? It was a question she had turned over in her mind all weekend. If it was Charlie, and she had died, he would do everything in his power to bring her killers to justice. Tabby felt an obligation to do the same.

She considered calling Tom and having him remind her that returning to work today was the right thing to do. Friday night she’d been full of courage in the wake of Charlie’s death, but now, the reasons for her not to attend seemed more obvious.

Jennings and Samantha scared her. Yes, she could fight for her life, but there were always weapons beyond her capability to defend herself against. Based on what Charlie and Tom had told her, and Samantha’s unpredictability, Tabby feared she was exposed.

She finished eating, showered, and entered her walk-in closet. She chose a pair of dark slacks and slipped into them. The other nagging doubt was Tom's motivation. He seemed genuine and sincere, but she couldn’t escape the thought that maybe his ultimate aim was to retrieve the drive. What if going to the office placed her in a fatal position? If they could kill Charlie and get away with it, they’d have no problem dispatching her. She wanted to believe Tom was a good guy, acting on behalf of his dead friend, but a natural paranoia worked against her.

Then there was the NYPD detective. He was desperate for her help and had promised to find justice. According to him, she was the key to the investigation. But what if she didn't agree to his terms? Would he leave her alone now? Would she be implicated if he managed to prosecute the company?

She worked it around her mind again as she caught the levitation train to the office, but her head began to ache and she was no closer to a decision.

As she approached the employee entrance, a cloud of paranoia settled over her. Tabby wondered whether senior management knew she had spoken with Detective Gutterson, and if they did, what disciplinary action it might entail. Perhaps they'd apprehend her for interrogation, or worse, she might end up like Charlie.
Don't be silly.
She filed in behind a line of other employees, glancing ahead through the scanning booth and behind, but nobody noticed her and she shuffled through with everybody else.

She squeezed into the rear of a packed elevator and directed her gaze on the floor, aiming to avoid eye contact that might lead to conversation. What awaited her on level twenty-eight? Tom had suggested Fox had plans for her. What did that mean? If she didn’t like it, she supposed she’d just quit. She would lose the chance to find out about Charlie and help the detective, but it would avoid the stress of working at the company.

On twenty-eight, she stepped out into the shiny reception area and found familiarity: her workstation, two lush sofas, and a coffee table. As she placed her bag on the desk, she heard voices from behind the doors of Charlie’s office.

At first, Tabby didn’t move. But she realized her silliness, so she snuck in behind the computer terminal and sat. She slid the large bottom drawer open and placed her bag inside. Fresh paranoia washed in. They had discovered Charlie had given her the drive and were waiting to arrest her. She took a moment, wondering what she might do. She considered approaching the door and trying to listen, but weighed the risk was too great—especially if Jennings was inside waiting. She sat in her chair, deciding there was nothing to do but wait; even though she didn’t feel comfortable beginning, as though picking up where she left off last week detracted from what had occurred on Friday.

Moments later, the door to Charlie’s office opened. Tabby’s heart almost hopped out of her chest. Jennings stood there, hands in his suit pockets. “Have you got a moment, Tabitha?”

Tabby stood, knocking the chair backwards, and walked across the room to Charlie’s office on faint legs. She entered, expecting a reception of people, but the room was empty.

Memories flooded her senses; Charlie’s flashy smile and ever-present chuckle, his warm daily greeting, and—strongest of all—the smell of his cologne. She pushed them away and focused on Jennings and her imminent fate, a feeling of deep portent filling her chest with tightness. She was certain Jennings knew about the USB drive, and now he would force a confession from her.

Jennings offered her one of the plush visitor's chairs, and Tabby sat. “Nothing to be worried about.” He planted himself on the side of the desk. “How are you feeling today?”

“Okay,” she said, trying to hold her poise. She wished Tom was there.

“Must be difficult coming in without Charlie?”

“Yes.” She glanced around. “I have to admit, it is strange.”

“Before we begin, I just wanted to ask if there was anything you remembered about Friday—about the missing files.”

Was this a trick question? Although, if they knew, she would probably have been apprehended already. She flattened her brows and puckered her lips. “No. Nothing more than I told you on Friday night.”

“Okay then,” Jennings said, sliding off the desk and clapping his hands together. He sat in the armchair opposite her. “You see there’s one little problem with that story, Tabitha. We know the files were downloaded right before you left for the day. And since we can't find the storage drive anywhere in this office and Charlie didn’t leave, our conclusion is that he must have given it to you.” He smiled, but it melted away into a grim expression, his eyes dark and menacing.

Dull heat flared under her arms. Her throat was dry, her pulse beating a rising, apprehensive thud. She drew a strand of hair back from her forehead, maintaining eye contact. If she told the truth now, they’d know she had lied, and she would likely lose her job. Or worse. But Charlie had insisted. He had staked his life on it. She would not let him down now. “I don’t know what you want me to say, sir. I don’t have the files.”

“I want you to tell me—”

The doors slid open and Tom burst through smiling. “What have I missed?”

Tabitha leapt from her seat. “Tom!” At that moment, she had never been gladder to see anyone.

“What are you doing here?” Jennings said, rising.

“Bryan asked me to check in and make sure things were running smoothly.”

Jennings hesitated, and then broke into a smile. “I was just about to make Tabitha the offer.”

“Perfect,” Tom said, grinning. But Tabby recognized the strain across his features.

Had she ever doubted his loyalty or motivations? She couldn’t be sure, but would never do so again. However this played out now, she felt safer having Tom at her side.

“Well,” Jennings began, sitting on the arm of the chair, “the reason I’m here now is to give you some great news.” Tabitha crossed one leg over the other. “Mr. Fox has decided that you’re the perfect candidate to replace Charlie in his role.”

Tabby’s teeth clicked as her mouth snapped shut. She glanced at Tom, whose easy grin confused her. Had she heard right? “Charlie’s job? As an executive?”

Jennings smiled. It looked awkward, as though someone was pulling his face into shape. “Yes. Charlie always spoke highly of you. He thought you’d make a good executive.” He glanced at Tom. “We want to offer you the chance to learn Charlie’s role and eventually take over the job he was doing. Of course, you don’t have his experience, but you’ll pick it up. We’re patient. Sounds exciting, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Tabby said. And she didn’t. While Tom had predicted they would have a role change for her, she had not expected this. A little of the tension floated off her shoulders. This role would allow access to company information. She would know things. “I don’t think I’m anything like Charlie, but I’ll do my best.” She knew it sounded lame, but the offer had stunned her.

Jennings nodded. “We know. Mr. Fox has a very high opinion of you. He thinks you’ll do great things.” Jennings slid off the chair.

“And you’ll still get to work with me,” Tom said. “I’ll be your mentor.”

Tabby glanced at Jennings, whose face had lost all expression. “Well, Tom’s a good candidate, real company man,” Jennings said. “Of course you’ll have a new contract of employment we need you to sign that protects you and us from all sorts of government nasties. It’s standard stuff; right, Tom?” Tom nodded. “You can have an independent lawyer look at it if you like, but you'd be the first. I can tell you it’s the same one we’ve all signed.”

Tabby read between the lines. She didn't think a contract had mattered to Charlie. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

“The next few days are going to be busy. We insist on a long and detailed induction process. The company’s policies and what protects it from the law—and by that I mean, making sure we follow the law.” He smiled. “You’ll spend the day with the designers remodeling the office. You’ll need to brief recruitment so they can find a suitable list of candidates to fill your old role.” He smiled again, but it didn’t look right. “Don’t let them choose, though. You’ll be the one working with the new employee, so make sure you’re happy.”

Tabby smiled, while Tom maintained a chiseled, serious expression. She couldn’t help but wonder what course the conversation might have taken if Tom hadn’t arrived. The pain of Charlie’s death was still raw, and as she glanced around the office, more memories drifted in, unsettling her. How many times had she sat in the very same seat, talking and laughing, telling each other about their problems? She'd give up a lot to change the circumstances.

“…Tabitha?”

She blinked away the thoughts. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I said before we can get things underway, one of the onsite nurses needs a skin and blood sample to authorize your security clearance. Then you can enter and exit the office as you need.

“Tom, why don’t you look after her from here?”

For the first time, Tom managed to smile.