2 Executive Retention Page 4

  "This is not the type of neighborhood where they would look for a Lexus. The restaurant, on the other hand, was within a mile of where I lost them. They probably cruised upscale places until they spotted it."

  I took a big bite and chewed slowly. Huntington had a special way with insults. "Since I don't live in an expensive condo, you figured it was safe to park it here?"

  He blinked. He started to answer, but thought better of it.

  "Never mind, Huntington. I think you're wrong though. Don't leave that car sitting in my driveway." I glowered and ate another bite of steak. At least the sirloin was excellent and very tender.

  "If you wanted steak, why didn't you just grill it?" was Huntington's pronouncement.

  I didn't bother to answer, but I stabbed my next bite rather savagely.

  "Okay, okay, it's a meal, and I didn't have to make it myself. And it's possible that I shouldn't have left the car here." He put his hand up. "Look, we won't be using the Lexus anymore except to throw them off the trail. I had to leave it here temporarily, but no one followed me. All you have to watch for is suspicious accounts. The good news is that if everyone else is watching to see what I am up to, you should be able to infiltrate without a single problem."

  "Yeah. No doubt." Wasn't that what he promised the last time? Unfortunately, with Huntington, nothing ever went quite the way he said it would.

  Chapter 8

  My first day at Acetel was pretty standard for starting a new job at a computer company. I sat through a half-day of orientation designed to put people in a coma. The lady drone made sure I got a badge, auto-deposit and folders full of company mission statements. Unfortunately, she was from an outsourced company so she had no idea what I was supposed to do after she was done explaining all the standard benefits and stock options. I was left in a hallway with no directions.

  Since the building was only two-stories, I kept my search to the second floor where I had been abandoned. I tried to tell myself that if things didn't work out I could always go back to Strandfrost.

  At the end of the hallway, I found a secretary. She was tall even sitting down. Her hair was full-sized, a Dolly Parton style arrangement with a lot of hairspray. The blond curls looked natural and somehow so did her Texas boots right after she opened her mouth in greeting. "Well, howdy! You must be Sedona." She pronounced my name with a long drawl on the "o." "You can call me Becky. Name's Rebecka, but I just cain't see being a Rebecka."

  It was hard to keep from backing away as she charged around her L-shaped desk with her hand outstretched.

  "Uh yeah, I'm Sedona O'Hala. Hi."

  "Well, aren't you the cutest little thing." She grabbed my unresisting hand and smiled big and warm. There was a touch of lipstick on her front tooth.

  "Thanks. You, uh," I wiped my finger across my front teeth.

  She jumped back to her seat with a curse. "I swear I always do that." Out came a mirror from the top drawer. She scrubbed at the lipstick, checked the rest of her makeup and fluffed a piece or two of hair. She was probably ten years my senior, but it was hard to tell with all the makeup. Huge blue eyes peered from underneath extra long black lashes and lipstick adorned full lips that a man would probably love if he could find them under the bright red.

  "Do you need the mirror?" She started to hand it to me, an automatic politeness from one woman to another. Critically, she realized I wasn't wearing any makeup except mascara. "Well, honey, you're pale as a mouse. You've lost every single bit of your lipstick."

  "I don't wear much makeup." I tried not to sound defensive, but it was hard given her stare. Dolling myself up to work in a lab environment wasn't generally worth the time or the effort. Most of the engineers didn't care that I was female, never mind notice whether I wore makeup or not. The ones that did notice would often misinterpret anything nicer than socially acceptable as a signal that I had no brains and wasn't interested in my career.

  "You already married?" she asked.

  "Well, no."

  "You want yerself a man, yer gonna have to priss up a bit," she advised. "I bin married for ten years, and I tell you what, that man o'mine ain't seen me yet without my makeup. I swear he'd run screaming." She stood up again and sashayed her way around me. "Let's get your supplies."

  I wasn't sure if she meant makeup or a laptop, but I followed along like the little lamb I was supposed to be. She must have heard me sigh mournfully, because she looked back, calculating my attitude.

  "You don't look too happy, missy." She swung back around before I could think of a good response.

  "Just bored from orientation," I tried. No, bored wasn't blending and fitting in. "I mean, overwhelmed."

  She looked back at me again when I corrected myself, but I nodded and kept my eyes wide. Hers narrowed and she "uh-huhed."

  At the supply cabinet, she unlocked it before handing me pencils, stapler, a bin with scissors, extra tape, markers and some other stuff. It piled up high.

  When she tried to hand me some sort of coat hanger, she noticed I had no room for it. "We better get you a box." She stared at me with her hands on her hips and her boot tapping. "You'll need to be keeping an eye on all this stuff because these are hard times you've arrived at. I can't put in another order until after Christmas."

  I nodded dutifully. "I was surprised when they hired me what with all the layoffs."

  She sniffed. "Thank God it was the folks in San Jose and not here."

  I tried to be diplomatic but still get some information. "I heard it was a lot. Something like ten percent."

  "Yeah." She found a box near the copy machine and helped me load it. "They let the two contractors here go. My buddy Stella was one of them. But then they changed their minds, and Stella got to come on board full-time instead of contracting. Maybe they found some money so that is why they could hire you too. The other contractor, Ben, he wasn't so lucky." She made a cutting motion across her throat.

  "Oh." The thought occurred to me again that this whole investigation might be because of one disgruntled accountant who had been laid off.

  "You eaten lunch yet?"

  Not unless the drone had given me a lunch box at orientation and being nearly comatose I hadn't noticed. "No."

  "There's a great little café near here with soup and sandwiches. They have divine dessert too." She looked critically at my waist, and then sighed wistfully. "You have a great waist. Not an inch of tummy. I swear since having my two children they might as well give me surgery."

  She was probably at least six feet tall and big-boned, but she wasn't really fat. "I don't think liposuction is required in your case."

  She laughed and marched back to her office. "I wasn't talking liposuction." She pulled on a couple of inches around her stomach. "I was thinking they could operate and make me a pouch like a kangaroo so that I wouldn't have to carry this purse around." She leaned under her desk and produced a red purse that was only slightly smaller than most carry-ons. "I could stash stuff right in the tummy pouch. Shoot, I'd put the kids back in there and carry them around if they'd stay quiet."

  "A...kangaroo pouch."

  "You betcha. Liposuction they can take straight off my ass, girl!" She laughed again, a hearty boom that may have left behind some sonic damage.

  I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "It would beat working out."

  She nodded her agreement and led the way back through the hallway. "You can set your stuff in your office, and then we'll get lunch."

  At an office barely large enough to contain a laminated desk, we set my supplies down. I grabbed my wallet and left my backpack before following her back out to the stairwell.

  On the first floor, she stopped at a windowless steel door and waved at the badge reader. "Make sure your badge has been programmed to let you in the lab. They get it wrong more often than not."

  The human resource lady had taken my picture and programmed the badge from a list that determined where in the building I would be allowed to go. Gamely, I held the little
card to the reader. It buzzed, releasing the door lock and allowed us entrance. Once inside there wasn't time to register more than row after row of computer racks. The computer equipment wound in and around a maze of workbenches and the occasional pile of boxes. Becky knew right where my workbench was going to be.

  "This is your spot and your laptop. You can haul it back upstairs when you get back."

  "Okay."

  We headed out to the parking lot. The asphalt lot sported protective tin-roof car covers under which her red, full-bed Ford didn't quite fit. "I tell you what," she said as she beeped her way into the cab, "children rip your body apart. Shoot, before kids I had nice perky breasts. Oh, how the men loved them." She looked critically at me. "You might not have much, but at least they are still sitting right up where they belong."

  I might have replied, but she pulled out of the parking lot just then. The tires didn't squeal, but she did hit the curb.

  I grabbed the armrest. If she crashed, my seatbelt probably wasn't enough to save me. Her truck created the illusion of being bigger and badder than other vehicles. I left three-inch claw marks on the armrest trying to convince myself that I could hold on through sheer force of will. How she managed not to hit anyone on the five or six-block race was beyond me.

  She pulled into a parking spot and banged into the lip of the sidewalk as she brought the truck to a stop.

  After hopping down from the cab, she slammed the door with considerable enthusiasm. "Come on, girl. This place is great. It reminds me of home."

  I didn't have enough air to protest. Gulping, I dragged myself after her through a glass door. A cowbell announced our arrival. The shop was crammed with mismatched tables and chairs, many of them antiques or cast offs that might have come from an old barn. The back case featured cakes, cookies, breakfast breads and a smell of heaven.

  "Go for the soup and sandwich combo," Becky advised, leading the way to the counter. "Or the chicken casserole is tops."

  I followed her lead and ordered the soup and sandwich. The waitress gave us a card with a number printed on it. We moved to a table near the window.

  Becky nearly knocked our rickety table over when she perched her purse on top. "What was I talking about? Oh yeah, kids. You're lucky, you haven't been deformed yet. When I was growing up my mother used to tell me not to give the milk away before I got the cow hitched. Little did I know that once you have kids you lose all your shape! Cain't get married after that, that's what she shoulda told me!"

  "I'm sure your husband wouldn't dare complain." He'd probably get his head shot off if he tried.

  "Shiiit," she drawled out. "He suggested that since my boobs flop like deflated balloons, we should duct tape'm in place!" She pushed them up to demonstrate, and I nearly choked on my ice water.

  Changing the subject seemed like a safe response. "So, uh, how do you like working at Acetel?"

  "What?" It took her a moment to shift gears. Our food arrived and that was a further distraction. "Why did you apply to Acetel anyway?"

  Now you'd think I would be prepared for that question, given that I was supposed to be working undercover. "I, uh--" I blinked rapidly, holding my chicken salad sandwich with both hands like a lifeline. "I needed the money."

  She roared and slapped a hand on the table. "Ain't that just the truth? I sure as hell wouldn't be working if I didn't need the money! Hard to believe with all the business Acetel draws, management screwed things up again." She started on dessert before her meal, but after I tasted the cookie I didn't blame her.

  "You're lucky you didn't end up working for Ben, that contractor I told you about who was laid off. You know accountant types. That man had more questions and pinched more pennies than my grandma with her egg money. We all thought he was going to end up running the Denton office until he got laid off. Not that your boss, Jacques, is a real treat either, but he's tolerable. Technically I work for all the managers in Denton, but mostly I support A.J. He's the CEO so he's the one I really have to keep happy." She leaned forward and confided, "Luckily, A.J. only visits the Denton office about once every quarter. When he's around I work my tail off. You sure are right about working for the money." She prattled on for the next half hour about the things she would buy if she had the money, and the things she was buying anyway even though she didn't have the cash.

  When we got back to work, Becky explained that all the offices and meeting rooms were on the second floor. The lab took up the entire first floor with the exception of the cafeteria, which was housed at the end furthest from the parking lot.

  She then introduced me to Jacques Cardin, my new boss, whom I had only met over the phone during a quick and dirty interview. He didn't have time to say much other than "welcome" because Becky dragged me off down the hall.

  "I'll introduce you to Arnold Sternof, but don't stay long." She whispered the warning before we rounded a corner. "He's okay, but he's a total geek. The man hasn't washed his hair in like, a decade."

  Arnold looked up when we arrived at his office. His hair didn't look that bad, but he probably couldn't see out of his glasses very well since there were smudges and fingerprints all over them. "I heard we were getting a new person on board," he said, as he offered me a limp handshake. "Jacques has all the luck when it comes to talking management into getting extra help. I can tell you that we'll be keeping you busy too. If you get any free time, just let me know." He smiled toothily. "I suppose I should also say that if you need any help from me, stop by. The door is always open."

  "Thanks," I said as Becky pulled me out of his office.

  "He always complains when Jacques gets anything. If I agree to help Jacques with a report, you better believe Arnold will demand that I do every single one of his. Don't you dare volunteer yourself for anything in his group!"

  "Okay." The man sounded like a ladder-climber and a scorekeeper to boot.

  "He gets on very well with upper management, I guess because he's such a brain. Hangs on Pete's coattails all the time. Pete's the CFO honcho, and let me tell you that Pete isn't anything like Arnold. We're talking yin and yang. Pete's all high class and Arnold is total brainy-nerd."

  Jacques had asked me to stop back by his office after Becky was done showing me around so I did. He was balding; what hair he had left was wisping. The rest of him wasn't holding up much better. His button down hung haphazardly around his soft belly. Light khaki pants lacked any semblance of a proper crease and had been used as a landing pad for a runaway pen. Jagged blue marked most of one thigh. He reminded me of a professor at college, peering from behind small glasses, waiting for someone to ask a question.

  I didn't have any. After a very long pause, he handed me a couple of folders. "These will be your first assignments. We need them done as soon as possible, but that is always the case. I do not think you can be done with them today. That is unfortunate."

  Since it was bearing down on three o'clock, he was right about me not making it by quitting time. I perused the folders. It would probably take me most of this week and next to knock out both assignments. "These phone numbers…" I trailed a finger down the sheets. "Both belong to the customers? Do we have a contact person at the vendor site?"

  He nodded. "Kronology Servers is the vendor--the contact would be Craig Yumen, I think. He can probably help you." He tilted his head and tapped a pen on the desk. "Most likely."

  I wasn't sure if his comment meant he didn't believe the contact was legitimate or he doubted Craig would help me. I thanked him anyway and wandered back to my new office. It was smaller than my old one, but since I had been about to lose that one, it hardly mattered. With little time left in the day, I checked my customer assignments against Huntington's master list of legitimate customers.

  Everything looked legit so I logged onto my laptop and got it set up.

  I was not working late on my first day for a lot of reasons, but I had a good excuse ready just in case anyone asked. I had been quite neglectful of my duty to congratulate Brenda on the pending ar
rival of her first child. A personal visit and at least a box of See's best chocolates was in order. I called Suzy, my recently pregnant friend, to check, and she agreed the chocolates would be a great gift.

  "As long as you're going, could you pick some up for me?" she asked.

  "Sure, how many?"

  "The in-laws are coming for Thanksgiving so I need a two-pound box of the ones with nuts in them and a couple of one-pounders with just the chocolate butter ones. Do you mind? I'll write you a check when you get here."

  "Not a problem."

  "Oh, thanks! I hate to go to the mall this time of year and taking the kids with me turns it into a circus!"

  I called Brenda's cell to tell her I was coming. She was en route from the hospital where she worked as a nurse, so I told her I would meet her at her house with the candy.

  "Isn't it great news?" she chirped.

  "You've been to the doctor, and it's definitely confirmed?"

  "Absolutely! I'm at thirteen weeks," she whispered into the phone.

  I thought there must be static. "Did you say thirteen weeks?" Sean had told me they had just run the pregnancy test at home. Wasn't that a long time to wait before getting suspicious?

  She giggled. "We weren't actually trying. Not that we weren't trying either. And I wasn't really paying attention, you know. And then one morning it kind of occurred to me that it had been awhile, and I was late."

  There was late and then there was late. "Oh, well, yeah."

  "Isn't it going to be exciting? To be an aunt?"

  For some reason, it was the first time it occurred to me that I was involved. As a relative or anything else. My mouth formed a little "oh" but no sound came out.

  Brenda giggled some more and said she was looking forward to the chocolates before she hung up.

  An aunt…? It seemed impossible.

  Since Brenda and Sean lived in one of the sections in my subdivision, I picked up the chocolates and scooted over to Suzy's neighborhood first.