Page 16 of Only the Devil
In silence, we return to the condo and he preps. Jake’s backpack looks ordinary, but as he loads it, the contents scream professional: tiny cameras, audio devices, lock picks, and equipment I can’t even identify. This isn’t his first unauthorized entry.
“You really want to do this? Go back in there this afternoon?” The words tumble out before I fully think them through.
Jake’s grin is sharp. “Absolutely. It’s time to think like someone who wants answers. Besides, if I run into any problems, it gives me the weekend to obtain whatever materials I need.”
His logic makes sense to me. He finishes gathering his things and we head back out mostly in silence.
It’s not until we’re crossing the street that he speaks. “There’s video in the lobby, right? So if someone checks, they’ll see us enter. Not a problem, you left something in the office. There’s no obvious camera in the elevator. And you said?—”
“No video surveillance on the floor. Truly, no need. Servers aren’t in this building. They’re housed in Norfolk, Virginia. Only things on these three floors is office equipment. Furniture. Computers. That kind of thing. There’s really nothing in the office for anyone to steal. The art on the wall is all cheap stuff.”
We enter the lobby and I gesture with a discreet tilt of my head at the corners in the back of the ceiling where there’s obvious camera surveillance. “Those are the only cameras I’ve noticed.”
In the elevator he says, “There’s probably video surveillance in here. Behind the lights.”
He might be correct. It doesn’t matter. I left my headphones, so there’s a reason for us to come back over.
The elevator doors open on the third floor. I pause, listening. There’s no sound at all.
“Here, my office is this way.” I lead him through the maze of temporary walls, arriving at my office, which is, by all accounts, impressive. The view might be meh, but the size of the office and the enormous glass wall is, well, let’s say, it’s so nice it would almost make coming into the office preferable over work from home. Almost.
The space just needs some art or something to warm up the blah beige walls and the dark gray carpet.
I lift my headphones and hang them around my neck so I don’t forget them, while Jake unzips his backpack and takes out a small cylindrical device. He’s going to wire my office. Which is a waste because I know what goes on in my office.
“You should really do that upstairs, where the executives are.”
The glare he shoots at me is all reprimand.
Fine. If he wants to listen to the nothing burger that goes down in my office, I have nothing to hide.
“I’m going to go upstairs. Skim the filing cabinets.” It always blows my mind that people keep paper files in this day and age, but they do. While it protects folks from hackers, it doesn’t protect them from snoops.
“Cool. I’ll be up in a sec.”
“K. If you run across anyone, tell them you’re searching for me.”
“You think anyone’s here?”
“No.”
I expect him to stare me down again, but he stays focused on the surveillance devices.
He’s once again wearing a tight-fitting tee that shows off a firemen-calendar-worthy physique, and with his longish, jaw-length hair tucked behind his ears and his beard, it’s a good thing he went with the unemployed story earlier. I imagine Sterling bought that he’s unemployed. And Ms. Weaver understands, if that’s the case, why I keep him around.
Of course, in reality, he’s way too good-looking for me to date. Not because I couldn’t, but I’m not stupid. Who wants to date a guy that’s so hot every single woman he comes across is going to hit on him? Not me. One night maybe, but not date.
With that last thought, I head out of my office and toward the stairwell, since Jake thinks there could be surveillance in the elevator.
Two minutes later, I’m on the executive floor. Once again I listen, but on this floor, not only is it quiet, it’s dark. Offices cover every inch of exterior facing space, and all the office doors are closed, leaving the floor awash in shadows. Light finds its way below the door cracks, but it’s dark enough to need light.
Up ahead is Ms. Weaver’s office, so I flick the hallway light on and head there first. I twist the knob, but it doesn’t turn. It’s locked.
This could be a wasted effort unless Jake knows how to break locks. I move down the line of offices, checking doorknobs.
Someone has to have a key ring that opens these offices. A master key. We don’t have keys on our floor for the offices. It’s interesting that these offices have this extra layer of security. I didn’t think about it until now, but the locks on the offices on the third floor are more of the bathroom variety that can be locked from the inside, but not once you step outside.
I round the corner, at this point twisting knobs for the hell of it. I’ve almost made an entire loop around the rectangular fourth floor when I see a door cracked open.
