Page 48 of The Mogul: Leonard

“Come on. Not even software?” she insists, and it’s like being hit by a stone.

“Wait, there is something. The software we use to handle the employee paychecks. Different accounts, obviously, but the company we use is the same.” The hope that explodes in my chest shines through my words, a possible solution dawning on me.

“See? Ultimately, you do have to show me your employee files.” She chuckles, and I can’t stifle a laugh.

“Fair enough.”

“Should I hack into their software, or are you?” She grins.

I roll my eyes. “I don’t need to hack into anything. I have access to them.”

“Party pooper,” she singsongs under her breath.

We go straight for the logs, searching for those around the dates we have for the mysterious transactions, and there it is. One of the small sums appears on the screen at the exact date and time it goes out.

“It’s strange. This isn’t a transaction,” Roxanne points out what I already saw.

I log into another company account and we find the second sum. I proceed to check all fifteen companies and we find every single sum missing. My heart hammers in my chest, ready to leap on the keyboard on my desk.

“I only have one doubt: it’s not money going out. They aren’t transactions. It looks like the bank generates them, or something, through the payroll software. Where is the money?” She is puzzled, and I feel my heart plummet into my stomach.

“It’s still there,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“They never stole from me. Not money, at least.”

“It’s still in there? What exactly are we looking at?” Her voice carries a concern I wasn’t expecting from her. These aren’t her companies. It’s not even her job, but her desire to uncover the truth is enough to make this research personal.

“We still have to check how they got in, but my guess is that they hacked the bank system to access the employee software on our servers and open the door to every single company,” I explain with a numbness that overwhelms me. I don’t even feel the fear creeping up my spine at this discovery.

She slumps back in her chair. I swear she is a shade paler than she was five minutes ago.

“And from there, they can steal something way more valuable than money: information,” she concludes in a murmur.

I stand up and walk to the wet bar in the corner of my office. I grab the whiskey bottle and pour two generous glasses.

“Here, to celebrate.” I hand her one of the tumblers.

She frowns but accepts the alcohol. “You want to celebrate them potentially stealing industrial secrets from you?”

I grin and lean back. “We’re celebrating that we have found where to start digging. We’re far from finished, but at least we have a clear path in front of us,” I say, my voice laced with a hint of intrigue.

Roxanne takes a sip, and her face contorts from the taste of the alcohol. The second one goes down smoother. “You’re weird, you know that?” she says, her voice a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Probably, every genius is.” I tease.

“And humble too!” she fires back.

We stare at each other for a long moment, and a silent conversation goes between us. Like the one we had in the water: what is happening between us? The comfortable routine-non-routine we have is something I never thought I would experience with a woman. She doesn’t mind my dedication to my job because she has the same attachment to hers.

“So, those steaks,” she says, standing up and stretching her back. “I hope you have a good bottle of red wine because I don’t want to go home until I’m so drunk I forget the shitstorm we are about to raise.”

She walks out of the office, and I can’t help to stare at her ass. I will have to be very drunk too, if I don’t want to do something stupid like, for example, kiss the hell out of her.

16

Roxanne

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