Page 10 of Hacking the Holidays
“Okay then,” Sam said finally, his tone suggesting he was either accepting his fate or planning something I hadn’t anticipated. “I’ll show you to your work area.”
“Wonderful!” Eleanor said. “You kids have fun.”
Kids? I just turned forty-two last month.
According to his FBI file, Sam was thirty-five years old.
Kids, we were not.
“Follow me,” Sam said.
He led me past the romance and mystery sections and the gentle rustle of turning pages. We stopped in a research area behind a collection of historical periodicals.
“Here you go,” Sam said, gesturing to what appeared to be a computer terminal that had witnessed the rise and fall of several operating systems. “You said you knew how to use a computer?”
“Of course,” I said. “I would never joke about that.”
Sam studied me, as if trying to determine whether I was being sarcastic or had just made some kind of sacred vow. Apparently deciding I was serious, he launched into his explanation of the busywork to keep the annoying new volunteer out of his perfect hair.
The task was exactly what I’d expected. He logged me into the system, then outlined each step with the methodical precision of someone who’d clearly done this kind oftedious work before. It was something I could almost do blindfolded.
“Okay then,” Sam said, and I could practically see the relief washing over him. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Where can I find you if I have questions?” I asked, trying to sound casually curious instead of like an FBI agent conducting surveillance reconnaissance.
Sam’s body language shifted instantly—shoulders tensing, eyes flickering with the alarm that screamed he just wanted to be left alone. He pointed to a desk that was strategically positioned in the far corner.
“Right over there,” he said.
Of course. Corner desk, maximum visibility of the room, quick access to restricted areas. I recognized the setup because I had the same configuration at the Bureau—an isolated command center with optimal sight lines.
Sam walked away, and I got to work. Every few minutes, I could feel his gaze burning into my back like a security camera.
I didn’t blame him—if someone had shown up at my workplace talking about “elevated enthusiasm” and “probing,” I’d be monitoring them too, and maybe even administering a drug test.
The cross-referencing that Sam wanted me to do was, as predicted, laughably simple. Basic data validation with elementary error handling. This was an assignment they gave high school interns to teach them the fundamentals of updating databases. I wasn’t complaining since it got me into his world, just where I needed to be.
Just then, I heard Sam’s voice.
I glanced back toward his desk, but it was empty.
Standing up slowly, I peered over the cubicle partition like a prairie dog checking for predators. Sam was with an older woman who seemed to be fighting with the printer, repeatedly shaking her head and pushing all the buttons like it was a slot machine. Sam patiently explained a few things to her that I could not hear, then helped her print a stack of documents. To my surprise, the woman smiled and hugged him.
Unfortunately, I did not realize I had my mouth open when he glanced in my direction. I quickly ducked back down.
Wait, why did I do that?
I could have been stretching for all he knew, nothing wrong with that!
I slowly stood back up to see if Sam was still looking in my direction, but he’d disappeared and was now over at one of the public computer stations much closer to me, where a teenager with aggressively unruly hair was staring at the monitor with the expression of someone who’d just been asked to decrypt the Rosetta Stone.
Sam, the man who had just sentenced me to data entry purgatory, was now patiently leaning in to help the kid. He pointed to something on the screen, gesturing with his hands to illustrate a concept.
“See? It’s right there!” he said with a laugh.
Not the polite, professional chuckle of someone fakingit, but a warm, genuine laugh that transformed his entire face.
“Oh, I get it now!” the kid exclaimed, his face lighting up like someone had just handed him the cheat codes to life.
