“Absolutely not. Thank you.”
Mia pulled forward and followed the drive to the west lot, as instructed. She told herself the warning flags raised by procedure here were none of her business. As with any other job, she’d find the guilty party, deliver the evidence, and move on. She hadn’t taken a vacation since she spent a few weeks in Florida with her friend Kyra last year, so maybe she’d relax a bit before accepting the next job.
No point in getting ahead of herself, though.
She parked and climbed out of the Focus, studying the complex for a moment. It was a sprawling series of interconnected buildings, all gleaming white metal. The structure looked even more out of place since it was surrounded by an electrified fence and miles of trees. Again, not her concern, even if insistent warning bells had started going off.
Her heels clicked as she crossed the parking lot. The door wasn’t secured, but there were cameras at this entrance, tracking her every movement. If she veered right or left, she had no doubt someone would come to collect her. Mia followed instructions and continued down the corridor until she came to a suite of offices.
There, a well-coiffed woman in middle years sat behind the reception desk. The room was elegantly appointed in maroon and gray. Abstract art adorned the walls, but Mia didn’t care for it. To her, it resembled nothing so much as blood spatters.
“May I help you?” the receptionist asked.
“Mia Sauter. I need to have my security badge made up.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’m Glenna Waters. Thomas Strong is the director, but he won’t be able to meet with you today. But no worries, I can handle this.”
“Thanks.”
Mia smiled her appreciation and followed the other woman behind the beige partition, where she stood before a black curtain and had her picture taken. Glenna worked with several different machines, and it took fifteen minutes for her to present a freshly magnetized, freshly laminated card.
“There you are. You’ll want to wear this at all times.” She flicked her own security tag. “I can give you a lanyard or a clip. Which do you prefer?”
“The clip, please.”
Glenna finished the badge and handed it over. “You’re assigned to IT, which is down the hall from Accounting. I’ll give you a map of the facility to help you find your way. This place can be tricky, but as long as you stay in the admin area, you’ll be fine.”
“There are labs on the premises?” Mia couldn’t believe she’d asked that. It was none of her business, nothing to do with the job. Hopefully Glenna would take it as casual interest.
The other woman nodded. “Yes, ma’am. The labs are past the security doors in the east wing.”
“Will off-limits areas be clearly marked?” She tried a smile. “I don’t want to wander the wrong way looking for the lounge.”
“Your mag strip won’t let you wander into restricted areas, don’t worry.”
“Good to know. I’ve never worked anywhere like this before.”
Glenna nodded. “Most of us hadn’t. You’ll find it’s a good place, though. They take care of their employees. Great benefits and retirement plan. I’ll set you up an appointment with Mr. Strong to talk about rollover of your 401(k).”
That would be natural if she worked here for real. But Mia didn’t have a 401(k) plan to transfer. Her money was invested in a varied portfolio.
“That won’t be necessary,” she said. “I had to cash out recently. Family illness.”
Glenna’s face softened in sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Mia offered a wave in acknowledgment as she left HR, badge clipped to the lapel of her jacket. Following the map proved no hard task, and soon she presented herself in IT, ready to begin. She loved this part of her job: the hunt for clues, following the trail, analyzing patterns of data. And she was good at it for reasons nobody had ever discerned.
After all, it took a thief to catch a thief.
Over the years, he had been known by so many names, he had almost forgotten his own. For the last three months, he had been Thomas Strong. Once the man known as Addison Foster left Vegas, he’d sloughed his old identity like a snake outgrowing its skin. Though he’d always known this last task would require patience, lately he found himself suffering from its lack. Despite his near-perfect disguise, he was no closer to accessing the secure part of the facility than he had been a year ago, right after he orchestrated the death of Gerard Serrano.
As director of Human Resources, he had his fingers on everyone who was hired in and out of the facility. In theory, it sounded good. He thought he’d have access to all employees, even the lab workers. But their nondisclosure agreements prevented them from talking to him about their research, once they commenced in the restricted areas. That meant he’d been reduced to a glorified paper pusher with no promise of ever getting closer than he was.
That was unacceptable.
He just needed to find the right angle. Maybe one of the geeky techs would be amenable to seduction. At this point, it was the only approach he hadn’t tried. There were no other weaknesses in security; he’d already tested it extensively. If nothing else, that alone confirmed he’d come to the right place. The lab part of the complex wouldn’t be locked down if they didn’t have impressive secrets to keep.
He had a feeling he knew exactly what they were hiding.
The intercom buzzed. “Mr. Strong, your two o’clock is here.”
His jaw clenched. Glenna meant well, but she was both managing and proprietary, so she wanted to know where he was at all times in case someone called looking for him. Strong wasn’t used to accounting for his movements; working for prior employers, he’d grown used to a certain amount of freedom, as they had cared more about results than schedules.
He tapped the button to answer. “Great. Send him in.”
This joker wanted to talk about possible career advancement. He worked in Accounting, but he wanted lab management. He’d seen an interior job posting and sought to apply for it, even though his résumé was years too light and his education somewhat inadequate. Jenkins was convinced he had what it took, however, and spent forty-five minutes telling Strong what he thought he wanted to hear.
“I’m a people person,” Jenkins was saying. “I can get results, too. They like me. I’m wasted in Accounting. Any dork can crunch numbers. But give me five minutes with a guy, and I can tell you exactly what makes him tick.”
This should be good.
Strong raised a brow. “Oh, really?”
“Yep.” Confident he was on the right track, Jenkins leaned forward. “Want me to analyze you?”
He smiled. “Absolutely.”
“You live alone,” Jenkins began. “You’re career-driven, so you put work ahead of relationships. You’re self-contained and professional, but you enjoy the outdoors. I can tell that by the calluses on your hands.” He paused, as if to assess the effect of his recitation.
“Very good, Mr. Jenkins.” Strong was careful to keep his expression noncommittal.
But frankly, that wasn’t half-bad. He was inclined to favor the guy’s application to get him out of Accounting. Best to send Jenkins back to his desk before he noticed anything else, however.
Strong’s days had become a miserable wasteland of such appointments. Glenna was too efficient to permit gaps in his calendar that allowed him to roam around the facility. Sometimes he manufactured events to cover his absence, but if that happened too often, she started asking questions. Unfortunately, she was clever, honest, and hardworking.