The IT manager was holed up in his office, his attention riveted to his computer and that’s exactly where Alan wanted him. The IT manager, a burly middle-aged man named Mark Hodges, was a perfect Corporate Financial pawn; dedicated, loyal, attentive, a complete corporate zombie. He was so dedicated to his task, so taken in by Corporate Financial Consulting, that he had no inkling of anything outside of his realm of Information Technology or Corporate Financial business. Therefore, he had no idea Alan was in the data center. Alan had arranged for one of Mark’s employees, Debbie White, to let him in and meet with her regarding the client he was working with. Debbie was not only completely overtaken by Corporate Financial, she was easy to manipulate. After fifteen minutes of discussing strategy and IT protocols, Alan had asked Debbie if she would run upstairs to Computer Analysis and ask Larry to run some reports and Debbie had scampered off, leaving Alan alone in her cubicle.
And now the rest of the IT staff, except for Mark Hodges, had gone to lunch.
Alan stood up slowly, listening for any sound of activity within the data center. Mark’s office was actually outside the data center, in a cubicle within a room of three other cubicles. There was a window along the wall of his cube that looked out into the data center so he could oversee things. Alan had taken a quick peek inside at Mark and noticed that the IT manager’s attention was wholly directed toward his computer screen, like he was mesmerized. Alan knew that look well; Mark would be absorbed for hours.
Alan opened his briefcase and quickly took out two of the explosive devices. He peeked around the corner of Debbie’s cubicle quickly. The network servers lined ten rows along the inner wall. The entire room was standard-issue data center: white walls and floor, raised flooring where the servers were, climate controlled room. Alan darted over to the server rack furthest away and knelt down. Thick cabling littered the floor of the rack to snake down beneath the raised flooring and he pushed one of the devices inside, beneath the lowest positioned server. He pushed it as far back as it would go so it would remain undetected, then quickly darted over to another server rack five rows down and did the same thing. This was a little more tricky since the window to Mark’s office was visible. Alan could see Mark’s back, his attention riveted to the computer as he worked. One false move and Mark could see what he was doing and come inside the data center. Alan quickly shoved the device underneath the cabling along the floor of the rack, then stood up quickly and took a few steps back. Neither device was visible at this level. They would remain undetected.
Alan turned his attention to his briefcase. He had four devices left. He’d planted one in each toilet tank in the men’s room beside the data center, Customer Service, and General Accounting. He’d also planted one underneath Richard Long’s desk when he met with the Account Executive this afternoon. Richard hadn’t noticed, either. Alan simply opened his briefcase on his lap as he sat down and then, the briefcase’s contents facing him, he’d slipped one of the devices out and casually slipped it beneath Richard’s desk as Rich rattled on about the company’s performance and numbers.
Alan looked at the four remaining devices. He could place one inside Debbie’s desk. What could it hurt?
He opened the top desk drawer, found a space, and slipped one of the devices inside and closed it. With three explosive devices placed within the data center itself, that should be enough to blow up the IT department sufficiently. The tape library was housed in a secured room on the fourth floor, and this afternoon’s offsite run wasn’t due to be picked up until after four p.m. when the courier arrived. By then the entire building should be blown sky high. He was hoping the explosive device Michelle planted in the women’s room near Computer Analysis on the fourth floor, which backed up against the Tape Library, would be enough to sufficiently destroy it.
Alan glanced at his watch. Ten after twelve.
He closed his briefcase. Sat down in Debbie’s cube to wait.
The door to the data center from the IT office opened. Footsteps sounded on the white tiled floor.
Mark Hodges stood in front of him outside Debbie’s cube.
Debbie White and Bob Gutenberg, one of the day shift IT techs, were glaring at him.
“Get up,” Mark said.
Alan feigned surprised. “What’s wrong?” He made no effort to get up.
“He said, get up!” Bob said. He reached inside the cubicle, grabbed Alan by his arm and hauled him to his feet.
Alan let himself be hauled up; to resist was to give himself away. “I don’t understand,” he said, fighting like mad to keep the nervousness out of his voice.
While Bob kept his grip locked on Alan’s arm, Debbie walked over to the server rack closest to her cubicle. She reached down, rummaged among the cables beneath, and brought out the explosive device. She held it up for him to see. “What’s this?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alan said, suddenly feeling a stab of fear penetrate his stony veneer.
“I was watching you from my cubicle,” Mark Hodges said, his tone flat, devoid of emotion, like a robot. “We’ve initiated video surveillance of the data center. There’s hidden cameras all over here. I watched you put this under two of the server racks.”
Debbie walked over to the second server rack and pulled the other device out. She walked back, the second device on her outstretched palm. “What is this?” she asked. Her voice was robotic-like, too.
“I have no idea,” Alan said.
“You do,” Mark said. “You placed it there.”
Bob grabbed Alan roughly. Mark grasped his left arm and the two IT staff members steered Alan toward the data center exit. Alan protested. “What the hell’s going on?” His voice rose and he tried to keep the fear out of it. “I didn’t do anything! Get your hands off me!” He struggled, tried to pull away. Mark and Bob held him tight. An arm looped around Alan’s throat and he panicked. He lashed out with his feet but Debbie kicked him solidly in the muscle of his right thigh. The cramp was enormously painful. Alan doubled over from the intensity of it, unable to control himself now as Bob and Mark hauled him to his feet and half-dragged, half carried him out of the data center.
They steered him down the hall past the security booth near the rear door of the building toward the back elevators. “You need to be punished,” Mark said. The IT manager had the strength of an ox. His grip was vice-like, powerful.
Alan tried to get the upper hand on his pain management, and when the elevator door opened he tried to make another break for it. It was no use; Bob and Mark had the upper hand and they hauled him inside and the elevator doors whisked shut quickly and then they were heading down into the basement.
WHEN TIM CUSAK stepped into his office Tuesday morning after a glorious three day weekend he was surprised to find his staff inside it, seated at his desk or standing along the wall and window of his office, waiting for him.
Tim placed his briefcase on an empty chair, puzzled. “What is this, a surprise party?”
Tim’s secretary, a short, stocky woman named Leah Bailey, stepped forward. “You weren’t at the company picnic Saturday.”
“Trish and I went to Las Vegas for the weekend,” Tim said. “I told you that a month ago.”
Carl Ford, one of Tim’s Analysts, sounded off from where he was standing near the window. “You didn’t show up Monday. We were looking for you.”
A prickle of unease ran up Tim’s spine. He felt the skin on the back of his neck gooseflesh as he suddenly realized that his employees looked… well… different.
It was their attitude. Their expressions. The way they looked at him.