Page 22 of Duty Compromised
Still hidden behind newsprint, Raymond shifted in his chair. “Why?”
“Because I’m asking nicely.”
The paper lowered slowly, revealing narrowed eyes. “You think someone messed with the lab? Alex told me there was some malfunction or something. It was probably a glitch. Those kids just didn’t save their homework.” Asshole laughed at his own joke.
“I think I’d like to see the logs.”
“That’s need-to-know information.” He folded the newspaper with deliberate precision, setting it aside like he was preparing for combat.
This fucking dunce. He was about to need to know how to surgically remove my boot from his ass.
The door clicked shut behind me as I stepped inside. “Wilmington, we can do this easy or we can do it hard. Easy is you hand over the logs and we both do our jobs. Hard is I call George Mercer at the FBI, explain that you’re obstructing a security investigation, and let him explain to your boss why federal contractors are pulling your clearance and you’re out of a job.”
His jaw worked side to side. “You don’t have that authority.”
“Why don’t we fuck around and find out, buddy.”
The air conditioning hummed. Someone laughed in the hallway. The standoff stretched until Raymond yanked open a desk drawer and shoved a tablet across the surface with enough force that it nearly went airborne.
The device landed in my palm before it could fall. I walked to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall. Data scrolled past, showing everyone who’d come into the building over the weekend—cleaning crew Saturday evening, right on schedule. Three maintenance workers Sunday morning for HVAC repairs. Security guards rotating shifts.
And, sure enough, Charlotte, badging in Sunday at 12:47 p.m.
I read on. “Says here Dr. Gifford isn’t authorized for weekend access without prior approval.”
Raymond rocked back until his chair creaked. “Yeah. Something about overall morale and stuff. But she does whatever she wants. Girl genius gets special treatment.”
“Nobody stopped her?”
“Not our job to babysit the scientists. She wants to work herself to death, that’s her business.”
I turned to the security camera feeds on the tablet. It didn’t show anything that wasn’t consistent with the log—the cleaning crew moving through their routine, HVAC guys doing their job. Nothing obviously out of place. Even Charlotte entering Sunday afternoon seemed focused but normal.
But something felt off.
I needed to do a walk-through of the building, check things out for myself. Raymond was demanding more info as I handed him back the tablet, but I ignored him.
I headed downstairs. The entry points seemed secure, doors and windows intact. Raymond trailed behind, each footstep deliberately heavy. “What exactly are we looking for, Hughes?”
We weren’t looking for fucking anything. I was trying to figure out why my Tyler-senses were tingling.
The weekend cleaning crew had left their usual traces—gleaming floors, reorganized break room, that particular industrial disinfectant scent. The HVAC work checked out, service orders filed properly.
Everything appeared pristine. Nobody had broken in, tunneled in. Nothing was out of place.
Raymond planted himself like a roadblock when we circled back to the main entrance, arms crossed. “Satisfied? Look, these systems glitch all the time. Had a server crash just last month that wiped out half the accounting database. Nobody’s fault, just technology being technology.”
Maybe. But I doubted it. I set the tablet on his desk like I was returning a library book I hadn’t wanted to check out in the first place, then took the stairs before he could deliver another TED Talk on Why Security Guards Know Everything.
Back in the lab, I stopped to watch Charlotte for a moment. She always worked hard, but this was something different. Her fingers never stopped moving across the keyboard in some sort of desperate rhythm. Tension fairly radiated through her body.
Alex came up to me. He was still tense too, but nothing at all like Charlotte’s unnatural frantic energy. “Did you find anything of importance with Raymond?”
I shook my head, still studying Charlotte. “Entry logs appear normal. Nothing seems out of place. It’s not definitive, but it doesn’t look like there was any unauthorized access this weekend.”
Alex mussed his hair into a style I’d call accidental mad scientist. “Maybe it was some sort of system error, like we talked about. It is possible. “
Raymond had said the same. I wasn’t willing to take it at face value. I needed to talk to Charlotte, find out what she’d seen when she first realized there was a problem.
