Page 8 of Once a Killer

He scowled. He hadn’t meant it that way. “We’ve lived very different lives for the last ten years,” he said, his voice short. “Not sure there’s much he could tell you about who I am now.”

“You’d be surprised,” she answered, tilting her head to study him. A small, satisfied smile flitted across her face, disappearing immediately. Turnabout was fair play, he supposed, but he didn’t like having his tricks turned back onto him. Wasn’t used to it, either.

“Why you chose Blackhawk Security is relevant,” Bree said. “The fact that you know Dev? I know you’re serious about needing protection. And smart enough to go to the best.”

He raised one eyebrow. “You think you’re the best?”

“Not at all,” she said immediately. “But I think Mel and Dev run the best operation. They hire good people and train them well. I looked at a lot of security companies before I took their job offer. So tell me what’s going on.”

Jameson leaned back and studied Bree for a long moment. “You want the big picture, or all the gritty details.”

“Details,” she said without hesitation. “It’s the only way to figure out where the threat might be coming from. What they want.”

Jameson let out a snort of bitter laughter. “What they want is not in question. I’m writing a computer program. I’ve been close-lipped about it, but rumors are flying.” He shook his head slowly. “Some of them probably started with the guys in my grad school cohort. We all had a pretty good idea of what everyone else was working on. We’d talk through problems together, bitch about the snags we hit, and celebrate when we had a breakthrough. So those guys got some big-picture ideas.”

“And you think some of your, ah, cohorts are after you?” she asked. Her gaze never left his face. She was totally focused on him, and not because she wanted technical information about his program. She wanted to understand him.

“The men and women from grad school?” he said after a moment. “Not likely. There are seven of them, and they’re spread all across the country. Most of them are doing post-docs, because that’s what a lot of PhDs do after they get their degree. One went to work in industry, but his work was very different from mine. Not a lot of overlap, so he wouldn’t have any reason to be interested in stealing my work.”

“Other than money,” she said, watching him carefully.

He shrugged one shoulder. “The guy working in industry? He has a different skill set than me. I’m not sure he could finish what I’m doing and put it on the market. And he’s not hurting for money, because PhDs working in industry are paid very well.”

“Okay.” She leaned over the table, encroaching on his personal space. “Then who do you suspect? And why?”

Jameson drew a deep breath. Held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, then looked away and shoved his fingers through his hair. “I think there are three likely sources of the incidents.

“First is the military. What I’m working on would have applications for military use. My program would have to be modified and reshaped, but it could be done. Not anything I’m interested in doing, and I’ve made that clear. So they’d have to buy it or steal it and modify it themselves.” He clenched his teeth, remembering his discussions with the Pentagon brass. His flat refusals to let them get their hands on his program, and their irritated acceptance of that. “I think they’re the least likely culprits. If they ended up with my program? I’d know it, and I’d raise holy hell. I have the documentation to prove it’s mine, and it would be an enormous embarrassment to the military. A problem they don’t need.”

“Who else?” she asked. She’d pulled a notebook from somewhere and was scribbling in it.

“Other labs who do the same things my lab does.”

“Which is?” She lifted her head to stare at him with her unnerving slate gray eyes.

“I provide lab space and financial support for computer engineers who are working on projects that have potential commercial uses. They get space to work, a salary and technical help with patents and copyrights. In turn, I get seven percent of their profits once their programs are finished and released.”

Bree frowned. “Why would they work for you when they could go it alone and then keep all their money when their program was released?”

“Good question, but there are a few easy answers. First of all, unless they’re independently wealthy, they’d probably be deeply in debt by the time their product was ready to be released.” He smiled. “They have to live somewhere while they’re working. Eat occasionally. They need a car, unless they live in a big city with great public transportation. If someone’s paying them, they don’t have to worry about those things.

“Secondly, not every game or app released is a hit. A lot of them are duds. I think the projects my guys are working on are good ones, and they should make money from them. But there are no guarantees. So instead of taking the chance of ending up deeply in debt, a lot of computer engineers look for labs like mine.”

“Is there anyone else you’re worried about?” she asked, that gray gaze boring into him.

He clenched his jaw. Looked away for a long moment. Finally he sighed. “Yeah. The most likely source is the four people working for me. They have at least some idea of what I’m doing. Even though I keep my office locked, they’re all smart enough to learn how to use a lock pick. They have access to my calendar. They know where I live. What I drive.” He stared out the kitchen window at the brick of the building next door. He didn’t want to believe one of his people was targeting him, but he had to consider it.

Bree leaned closer. “I’m going to want you to tell me everything you know about every person in your lab. Doesn’t have to be now. First we need to come up with a cover story for why I’m in your lab and your office every day. Something believable. And it better not have anything to do with technology or writing computer programs. I’m completely ignorant about them.”

“But Mel and Dev still sent you to guard me.” He stared at her, puzzled. “Surely they must have someone who has at least a rudimentary understanding of coding.”

“I’m not here to critique your code writing or your project. I’m here to protect you. Those are my skills.”

“Skills you developed in the military. Or in your work for the un-named organization.”

“Some of them,” she said. “All that down time I had in the military? I used it to work out. Build my strength. Work on self-defense. Which translates nicely into protecting other people.”

“What made you go into personal protection?” he asked. “There must have been other opportunities for a military veteran.”

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