Page 5 of The Orc of Wall Street

Thanks for the ride!

I read the text and can’t help but smirk at our code. Preston must have messaged her that he was just around the corner. Meaning all’s a go. I can stroll across the street, ride my way up the elevator, and break into his office easy-peasy.

“Thanks, Edna!” I holler, stepping out from under the punishing fluorescent light and into the darkening street.

Delilah thought my idea to use a code was silly at first. Maybe she still does. But who knows when one might accidentally leave their phone in front of a target?

I dart across the street and strut in like I own the place. And I might as well since I’m carrying Lawyer Dude’s backup badge. The office might be uptown, but the night shift guards aren’t exactly in their prime. Grizzled, gray, and giant might be a good way to put it. That and slow. And blind. And deaf.

“How ya doing?” I frown as I pass the sleepy, mustachioed guard at the front desk.

He’s not drooling yet, but he will be by the time I get back down.

It isn’t five minutes until I’m past the second guard station, the empty receptionist’s desk, and the myriad of disinterested lawyers working under Preston. Maybe he could pay them more and work them less if he wanted vigilant underlings. Rather than blowing thousands on dinner and gifts for my favorite double major. So really, Preston poked holes in his own ship.

“Bingo,” I say as Preston’s novice-level security system crumbles under my fingertips. “Huh.” The list isn’t nearly as long as rumor had it, though I see a few familiar ones as I snap shots of them with my camera phone.

* * *

A few hours later, I’m dressed in all black and standing in Tarek’s office at Jarn headquarters. It’s almost too easy sneaking past the guards and looping the cameras with most of the lights out since the cooperation prides itself on its commitment to ‘a greener world.’ But it’s only part of what made my decision to wait so appealing. That and the building drops from six guards to three after midnight.

Bumping into noisy water features, fake plants, inoffensive office art, and stiff furniture is a thing of the past with night vision goggles, which I don’t bother taking off until I’m through the lobby, past the patrolling guards, and right inside Tarek Jarn’s office. Too spacious not to double as a home away from home, I get the sense half the corner office is used for work and the area around the corner is more of a bar and lounge area.

“Rich people,” I mutter, estimating the gold and green oriental rug and matching leather armchairs at more than the average waiter’s yearly income.

And the fully stocked mahogany bar against the wall, even without the trio of matching stools, could easily pay for a semester of college. Hacking into his network takes all of three minutes, mostly because the code I’ve written is encrypted to look like Jarn Enterprise itself.

“Bingo,” I let out.

Schematics never looked so good. The grin on my face stops mid-curl as the screen shifts from a diagram to a few hastily written words. Welcome aboard, Cyber Thief.

“What?” I back away from the desk as soon as the alarm sounds, a tempest of bells and whistles with a smattering of an angry fog horn. Steel bars shoot down from the ceiling in between the office area and the mini lounge.

“Fuck!” I’m halfway to the door when I realize it’s exactly what’s expected of me.

It swings open to reveal a towering, vibrant green orc with a shit-eating grin.

“Well, well, well.”

The voice isn’t familiar, but it doesn’t have to be to send panic signals across my nervous system.

With each word, my chiseled captor moves just a touch closer. I doubt he needs to emphasize each repeated ‘well,’ but I’m too busy trying to remember how to swallow.

“Is there an echo in here?” I try. No point making this being caught stealing thing awkward.

He shoved his meaty hands into his tailored pockets. “That and a thief.” His full lips part and I’m hit with another shit-eating grin.“Who’s about to get an offer she would be an idiot to refuse.”

His eyes drink me in. Or practically. I don’t know what else to call the slow and laser-focused look.

I’m confident he’s practiced it in the mirror. Not a chance someone like Tarek Jarn doesn’t watch his own reflection with bedroom eyes whenever he gets the chance. His pictures hardly do him justice now that I’m here, struggling to stand and not panic at the same time.

“What’s the offer?” I ask, and luckily with more piss and vinegar than I actually feel. “You step aside, count to ten, and I bail empty-handed?”

I realize I’m backing away from the desk only after my legs hit his office chair. Its wheels roll back with a squeak, and I’m tempted to seize this moment and do something risky. Or just plain stupid. I don’t know.

Don’t! He wants to see you fuck up, my mind warns.

“How does something like that help me exactly?” I wonder if I have the upper body strength to hurl the luxury seat over my head, and with any luck, right into his smug face.

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