Harold Coyle, Jennifer Ellis
Cyber Knights 1.1
BEAUTY AND THE GEEK
1
It took far longer for Karen Spencer, a twenty something U.S. Air Force brat living and working for a private cyber security firm in the UK, to answer the phone than it normally did. In addition to having become hopelessly lost in her efforts to unravel the secrets of a new encryption program that was not yet available to the general public that Andy had been hired to test, neither he nor Tommy were there to tell her to pick the bloody thing up.
Why she was the one Andy expected to take all incoming calls on the official company line, even when he and Tommy were there, had to do with the arcane and very chauvinistic attitude both clung to with the tenacity of a hound that had latched on to the scent of a fox. “Most people expect a well-established and prosperous firm to have a receptionist,” Andy explained one day when she pressed him on the matter. “And since most receptionists are females and you’re the only one in this office who falls within that category, the responsibility is yours. Besides,” he added as he lowered his voice, “the last thing I want is for Tommy to be the first person a prospective client talks to. That would be akin to a French restaurant hiring Genghis Khan as its maître d’.” Though she knew he had a point, from time to time it annoyed her no end when she had to set aside something she was involved in to answer the phone while one of the other members of Century Consultants sat at their desks, either playing online poker on his personal tablet as Tommy did when he had nothing better to do, or reading one of the countless drier-than-dust historical magazines Andy kept on his desk.
When she finally did become aware the phone was ringing, Spence had to scramble to answer it before the answering machine engaged. After snatching the receiver off the phone’s base, but before speaking, she took a moment to catch her breath and settle into what Tommy called her Sexy Suzy Secretary voice.
“Century Consultants. How may I direct your call?”
The voice that responded was little different than the tone she was using: cool, professional, detached, and, contrary to Tommy’s supposition, anything but sexy. “Ms. Ireland of TI Models wishes to speak to a Mr. Webb.” The woman’s tone alone alerted Spence that the person she was speaking to was no more than a mere flunky, most probably a secretary or personal assistant who was making an inquiry on behalf of her boss. Such people often came across as being tentative, almost timid, sounding as if they were afraid they’d called the wrong number and were about to be chewed out.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Webb is unavailable at the moment,” Spence replied in a voice that was just as dispassionate as the caller’s.
“May I ask when he will be back?”
Unable to help herself, Spence grinned as two possible responses popped in to her head, neither of which she could use. The first was the most obvious: “Yes, you may ask,” followed by dead silence. Given that Andy was currently off playing with the ancient Roman army reenactors he spent time with when he felt the need to take a break from the twenty-first century, the other response that came to mind was probably a tad more appropriate, but just as cheeky, “In approximately two thousand years.”
In the end, she didn’t use either. Instead, she suppressed an irreverent impishness that now came to her naturally as a result of her association with Andy and Tommy and asked if there was something she could help Ms. Ireland with.
After a moment’s hesitation, the woman calling asked Spence if she could hold. Again, she had to check her desire to ask what the woman wished her to hold.
The next voice on the phone was entirely different. Though it was female, Spence recognized it was the sort many women in positions of authority often use when they wish to make it known they were not the sort of female you messed about. “To whom am I speaking?” Tracy Ireland asked with a distinct haughtiness that was just as natural to her as Spence’s oft ill-timed playfulness.
Having learned the best way to deal with such women, Spence replied in kind. “Karen Spencer, one of Mr. Webb’s partners. How may I help you today, Ms. Ireland?”
There was a slight pause, leaving Spence to wonder if Ms. Ireland was weighing whether she wished to waste her time talking to an underling or ask to have Andy call back when he was in. “An important official with HMG told me Mr. Webb was the one person I could count on to help me with a problem I am having.”
In double quick time the smirk on Spence’s face disappeared. In its place was an expression that, had she been present, would have warned Ms. Ireland she had just stepped on some very sensitive, if somewhat diminutive, toes. Drawing herself up, Spence drew in a deep breath as she took a second to compose herself before continuing. Playtime was over. “In Mr. Webb’s absence I am authorized to act on his behalf in all matters,” she replied in a tone meant to inform the ditz she was speaking with she was no second-echelon flunky.
This was, of course, something of a half-truth. Andy was very selective about whom he took on as a client since he needed to ensure the people he and his team dealt with were aboveboard and the projects they became involved in were legitimate. To ensure he didn’t run afoul of the law or become part of something that violated national security or was best handled by a government agency, Andy made it a point to meet with all prospective clients and negotiate the terms of his dealings with them himself after conducting a thorough background check on the new client, especially one whom he had not dealt with in the past or who came to the firm without a reference from a trusted source.
What caused Spence to press on was Andy’s own philosophy, which was not all that different from that of Gavin J. Spencer, USAF Ret., her father and a man she often referred to as “The Colonel.” He had never missed an opportunity to impress his philosophy of “when in doubt, seize the initiative” upon the pilots in his squadron or his daughter. In his world, the one she was raised in, being proactive was imperative. “You have to get inside your opponent’s decision cycle, make him dance to your tune, and when the moment’s right, take the shot.” With that in mind, Spencer informed Ms. Ireland she would be more than happy to meet her and discuss the matter.
Again there was a moment of hesitation as Spence waited for the woman on the other end of the line to decide if she wished to pursue the matter with her. As she was doing so, Spence could not help but wonder how a woman she assumed held a position of authority could still find it difficult to deal with another female simply because she was female. That thought had no sooner popped into her head than Spence had to chastise herself, for she all too often looked down on women she considered to be flighty and frivolous things unwilling to muscle their way into important and meaningful professions dominated by men as she had.
“Fine,” Ms. Ireland finally replied in a tone clearly meant to inform Spence she was not at all pleased she had to settle for dealing with the second string. “My personal assistant will set up an appointment for you.” Then, without so much as a fare thee well, she hung up.
Free from the need to conduct herself in the manner Andy expected her to when dealing with a client, Spence returned the phone to its base and made a face as she stared at it for a long moment before finally sticking her tongue out.
Arriving at the offices of TI Modeling well ahead of time, Spence made straight for the fashionably dressed receptionist who, in her opinion, was wearing way too much makeup. Of course, since she never felt the need to wear any herself, that was an opinion she held of most women.