Page 112 of The Hundred Loves of Juliet
“Glad to see we got the right size.” She sets her computer on the table but doesn’t open it. Instead, she chats with me amiably, as if we’re new friends meeting for coffee, rather than two strangers in the middle of a tense technological war. But I know she’s trying to keep me distracted, and I appreciate the effort. She asks about my family, my work, what my favorite spot in Europe has been. It’s hard to focus, and I keep glancing up whenever someone walks by the glass walls of the conference room, but Sandrinegently steers me back to our conversation each time. Somehow, another hour passes.
With two hours left before the plane lands, Calvin comes into the room. His hair is noticeably more disheveled than it was earlier, there are fresh coffee stains on his now-untucked shirt, and he flicks around a miniature Rubik’s Cube in his hands, solving it every thirty seconds before mixing it up again, all while giving us a report on where they stand. I wonder how much caffeine he’s had.
“We got their files and deleted them,” Calvin says.
“You did?” My mouth drops. But I quickly remember that’s only the second step in a whole series of things they need to do. There are who knows how many copies of the files out there in the cloud. And then there are all the original sources where Aaron found the information and old photographs of Sebastien. “What about all the rest?”
Calvin solves and resolves the Rubik’s Cube again. “We’re working on tracking down copies. One of the girls is scouring all their emails to look for cloud accounts. We’ve already found and wiped a handful of them.”
“Good,” Sandrine says. “But how’s progress on finding out where those materials originally came from?”
“Got half the team hunting all that down. And the rest are looking for information for our dirty dossiers on Merrick and Aaron, including the stuff Helene told us about.”
“All right,” Sandrine says. “There’s still a lot of ground to cover, and not much time. Get back to it.”
Calvin salutes with his Rubik’s Cube and jogs back to the elevator to rejoin his team in their basement command center.
Sandrine and I call Sebastien to let him know how it’s going. Sandrine’s assistant brings us lunch, but I’m not the least bit hungry.
With one hour left to go, a woman in her twenties with a pink pixie cut darts into the conference room. “We got some nasty dirt on those bastards.” She waves a sheaf of papers around.
I don’t want to know the details of what they found onMerrick. Of course, I know what I told them to look for on the destroy-his-career front. But I’m sure there’s a whole lot more out there that’s less…savory. Involving interns with names like Chrissy, for example.
Before I can ask her not to tell me, though, she starts blabbing like this is just some fun game they’re playing. “These guys are treasure troves of turpitude! I have lewd photos of both of them that theydefinitelydon’t want public, like there’s this one where—”
I curl into my chair, already imagining Merrick and his parade of sluts, all laughing behind my back while they fuck him.
“That’s enough, Aimee,” Sandrine says.
The pink-haired hacker stands there blinking, unsure what she did wrong. The sheaf of papers goes limp in her hands. Then her eyes widen as she realizes who I am, in relation to the men she’s been babbling gleefully about. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
I try to smile and wave it off. “I already knew Merrick was a disappointment of a human being. This just proves it even more.”
“True,” Sandrine says, “but unfortunately, a handful of compromising photos still might not be enough to stop these guys. What about the leads Helene gave you? Tell Calvin he needs to dig deeper, find more. You’ve got fifty-four minutes and counting.”
I hate to think that dirty pictures won’t stop Merrick and Aaron. But I know she’s right. That’s an embarrassment they could get over. When Merrick is out for blood, nothing will stop him short of his own life being torpedoed.
I start pacing. I must be driving Sandrine crazy, because at forty minutes to go, she suggests I go for a walk.
“Five times around the block,” she says. “Fresh air will be good for you.”
I speed walk like no pregnant woman has ever speed walked before, and return to the office in record time.
Twenty-eight minutes to go.
I ask Sandrine to double-check the flight schedule online.
She frowns at her computer screen.
My heart is in my throat. “What is it?”
“The plane is landing early.”
“Shit! How much time?”
“Seven minutes.”
No…we were supposed to have close to thirty.
