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As usual, the message was businesslike and to the point. I’d asked once before how he knew what file numbers I should get, and been told merely that he had his sources. Clearly I wasn’t the only one in the company in league with Hydra. Someone else had to have access to the file number cross-reference—it was the only way to find these.
The fact that I’d gotten another file number from Hydra should have cheered me up. But now that I’d met the man and knew him asDennis, this morning’s message hadn’t had its normal effect on my mood. Had I gotten too close? Was my judgment impaired, or getting clearer? My two views of him didn’t mesh, and my hold on the truth was getting murkier by the day.
Nevertheless, I needed to focus on the task at hand. I’d promised Mom I’d get the proof. I wouldn’t let her down, and for that I had to follow Hydra’s instructions and not ask questions. My vow to her to make him pay was a promise I had to keep. I might not enjoy it the way I’d thought I would, but it had to be done.
I’d been clear about my motivations, and Hydra had been clear that I would have to wait until I’d retrieved all the files he was interested in. It wasn’t a surprise, since once I had what I wanted, we both knew I could blow off Hydra and stop my high-risk, nighttime sneaking around.
I would need to pull this file one night this week. The quicker I got what he needed, the quicker I would get what I wanted.
My attempt at creating a problem for Dennis had failed so spectacularly that I clearly needed to leave the bad news to Hydra. And I had a part to play in that—small, but essential.
I wrote the file number on a Post-it note, folded it, and stashed it in my wallet before heading off to work. A month ago, I would have been eager to get the file. Today, it was an obligation.
I’d helped Dennis with the Zarniger transaction last week and earned a bonus, in addition to the gigantic raise he’d given me. His interest in my analysis of the Zarniger deal had led to a change in our strategy when they came to visit. His adopting my view had done more to build my self esteem than even the day I’d graduated from Pepperdine.
It was an odd feeling to be appreciating his comments, even his praise, given what I knew he’d done. But I’d decided right now good news was welcome from any front, even from him.
Ramona had been getting more excited by the day, and she planned to start the hunt for a suitable three-bedroom this weekend. She and Billy deserved rooms of their own.
My drive into work was uneventful, and uneventful was good. Overall, life had improved. I could see financial daylight for us, and my new normal with less stress was a welcome change.
Upstairs, when I passed through the door leading to Mahogany Row, I didn’t feel the apprehension I had those first few days. The unease of entering the devil’s lair had been replaced by a feeling of calm. This was a safe place, a place I belonged, more importantly, a place I’d earned.
At first, the denizens of these offices had been standoffish, but Dennis’s public praise for my efforts in the Talbot and Zarniger transactions had changed that. These people worked on a higher floor than others in the company, but they weren’t the stuck-up jerks I’d expected. Even Larry was nice.
At eleven, I gathered up my notes on the huge Stoner purchase and made my way to Dennis’s office for our scheduled meeting.
Dennis waved to me and motioned to the small conference table while he continued a phone call.
I closed the door behind me and took my normal seat facing the window—a seat that allowed me to watch him at his desk while also viewing the ocean.
He finished up his call and joined me at the table. “Where should we start?”
“I’ve done a quick analysis of their last three years of financials, if you want to start there.”
“Sure. That sounds…” He stopped mid-sentence. His eyes went to the door.
A woman walked in without so much as a rap on the door frame.
I knew the face instantly from my research on my target.
Her choice of a dress—more appropriate for going to the opera than anything work-related—was almost laughable. She wore it well, but a plunging neckline of obviously braless cleavage and a thigh-high slit didn’t fit in the office environment.
She gave me a flit of her hand as if she were shooing away a bug. “You can go. We’d like privacy.”
I had no desire to make her acquaintance and stood.
Dennis stood as well, and his hand on my arm was a command to stay instead. As much as I wanted to get the hell out of here, I was the pawn in this war of wills, and I was Dennis’s pawn.
“Dennis, we need to talk.” She cast a glance my way. “In private.”
“Melissa, this is Jennifer Hanley. Jennifer, Melissa.”
“A pleasure,” I said, offering my hand.
She huffed, shaking off the introduction as if it were beneath her to respond in kind. “Melissa Benson, his wife.”
I pulled my hand back when she didn’t accept the offer to shake.
