Page 22 of The Sterling Acquisition
“And yet you maintain impressive production metrics.”
“We do what we have to do. Speaking of which...” Duckie glanced around the lab, ensuring they were alone. “That conversation yesterday, about bonding enhancement research. You seemed interested.”
Dante set down the wrench and gave Duckie his full attention. “Professionally curious. Gensyn is always interested in innovative approaches to human resource optimization.”
Duckie’s smile was thin. “Well, if you’re professionally curious about SVI’s innovative approaches, you might be interested to know that Dr. Morrison’s department has been working overtime lately. Lots of late-night sessions, restricted access protocols, the kind of security that suggests something big ishappening.”
“How big?”
“Big enough that they’ve requisitioned specialized pharmaceutical equipment from three different suppliers. Big enough that Leo’s been talking to Morrison about ‘timeline acceleration’ and ‘subject preparation’.” Duckie paused. “Big enough that whatever they’re planning, it’s happening soon.”
“Interesting,” Dante said the word slowly, making sure not to betray the inexplicable urgency he felt about the situation. “And this equipment—where would it be housed?”
“Sublevel three, behind more security than the board of directors’ personal vault. Biometric scanners, keycard access, the works.” Duckie leaned closer. “But here’s the thing about security systems—they’re only as good as the people who maintain them. And maintenance staff and techs, well, we tend to know things. Useful things.”
“Such as?”
“Such as weekend access codes that rotate monthly, guard shift changes that create fifteen-minute windows, and the fact that certain pieces of equipment require... specialized knowledge... to operate safely.” Duckie’s smile was sharp. “The kind of knowledge that might be valuable to someone with professional curiosity.”
Dante felt the familiar thrill of pieces clicking into place. Duckie wasn’t just offering information—he was positioning himself as an asset, someone with access and motivation to help. The question was what he wanted in return.
“That kind of knowledge could indeed be valuable,” Dante said. “To the right kind of professional relationship.”
“Exactly. And I think you and I could have a very productive professional relationship, Mr. Ashford. Assuming, of course, that your curiosity extends to compensating consultants for specialized information.”
“Naturally. Proper consultation requires proper compensation,” Dante replied. “I imagine certain financial pressures might make information sharing more appealing. Especially when those pressures involve the kind of collectors who prefer physical reminders of outstanding balances.”
Duckie’s smile faltered. “You’re observant. Let’s just say my poker skills don’t match my love for the game. And SVI’s medical insurance doesn’t cover ‘accidental’ injuries from recreational activities.”
“I find that immediate financial transfers can significantly reduce such recreational hazards.”
They shook hands, and Dante made a mental note to arrange a funds transfer that would ensure Duckie Chang’s continued cooperation. Having an inside man with access to sublevel three would be essential for the eventual theft.
Step one: Acquire a willing accomplice. Check.
Duckie left him alone with the centrifuge, and Dante returned his attention to the delicate art of equipment failure. He studied the centrifuge’s exposed mechanism, loosening the main balance rotor and adjusting the safety sensors. The machine would spin up normally, wobble dangerously at peak velocity, then grind to a halt with impressive mechanical protests. To the untrained eye, catastrophic failure rather than Gensyn-trained sabotage. Leo would spend hours trying to diagnose the problem.
Step two: Create a plausible distraction for Leo. In progress.
Dante finished his sabotage and cleaned up, leaving no trace of his presence beyond a centrifuge that would almost certainly require emergency maintenance within the next few hours. He checked his watch—5:43 PM. Leo would discover the problem in approximately fifteen minutes, right as he was planning to leave for the evening.
Perfect timing, really. Sometimes Dante impressed even himself with his strategic thinking.
Of course, if anyone at Gensyn knew you were sabotaging equipment to create opportunities for more access to a colleague’s Omega, they’d have you recalled before lunch.
Dante was reviewing production reports on his way back to his car when Leo came sprinting out of the building, key in hand.
“The psychological preparations,” he huffed, his hands on his knees as he attempted to catch his breath. “That work needs to still happen. Just take my key.”
Leo looked as Dante expected—stressed, disheveled, and radiating the particular desperation of someone whose carefully planned evening had just been dynamited by malfunctioning equipment.
“Of course. What’s the problem?”
“The fucking centrifuge died right as I was processing tonight’s cultures. Complete mechanical failure. I’m looking at minimum four hours to get it running again, probably six.” Leo ran his hands through his hair. “This couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”
“That’s... unfortunate timing,” Dante said, projecting the exact amount of sympathy appropriate for a colleague’s minor workplace emergency.
Leo handed over the key and practically sprinted back toward the facility, muttering about ancient equipment and impossible deadlines. Dante waited until he was out of sight before he allowed himself to smile.
