Page 15 of Wells

"This is someone who is with me most of the day? That isn't going to work, Sandra. I work alone."

"Look, let's just see how this goes. We posted the job a few weeks ago and have had several good candidates apply. One, in particular, seems like a great fit. Meet her, ask her some questions, and then let's discuss how we implement it. She's coming in tomorrow for a final interview with human resources. Can you carve out about thirty minutes to meet her while she's here?"

My fingers stop moving over the keyboard. "This is a waste of time."

"Thirty minutes, Wells." Benney's tone stays pleasant and unyielding. "The leadership needs a constant understanding of your ongoing cyber briefings. The board can't parse your reports for their quarterly meeting. Ridge agrees with the board. You're brilliant at what you do, but when you present findings, half the room looks like they're having an out-of-body experience."

"Then they should pay more attention.”

"They're trying. They just have no idea what you're saying." She pauses while papers rustle on her end. "You're the tech mind. You're not the communicator. That's not an insult, it's a fact. Ridge restructured the communications pipeline for a reason, and this hire is part of that."

I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling. My shoulders go still and tight. "I don't want someone in my space."

"You might find having a second set of eyes is useful." Benney's voice sharpens just enough to make her point.

I can assure her a second set of eyes will be anything but useful. Not that she would listen.

"This isn't optional, Wells. Ridge and the board signed off on it. The candidate is strong, the skill set matches, and the placement happens unless you give me a reason that holds water."

I don't answer immediately. My gaze drops back to the screens in front of me, the locked breach file, the terminal data I traced without needing a single visual aid to make sense of it.

The real objection is the data itself. Some of what I generate is for the board. Some of it no one is ever meant to see. There are two layers to what I do, the one the board pays for and the one no one is ever meant to find, and they sit inches apart on these screens. People don't get embedded in my work because embedded is how the wall between those two layers goes fucking off the rails.

"Fine, I'll stop by. But I'm not promising anything else. What time?"

"Thank you. She's coming in at ten, so any time between ten and eleven. You tell me what works and I'll build it into the meeting." Benney sounds too pleased. "I'll have the courier drop off the candidate's portfolio this afternoon so you can review it beforehand."

"I won't, so save yourself the time. I'll shoot you an email once I look at my schedule and know what time I can stop in."

"I'm sending it anyway. And look at that, I clocked in at just over two minutes, and we all survived." She ends the call before I can argue further.

I set the phone down, keeping my hand flat on the desk. The meeting sits on my calendar now, locked in, unavoidable. Ridge's restructuring doesn't care whether I want a babysitter near my screens.

I pull up the next file and start working again. Tomorrow I meet the candidate. Tomorrow, I make it clear that I do not need help, do not want oversight, and will not be softened into cooperation.

Tomorrow I shut this down.

Conference room two sits on the nineteenth floor with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the river. It's where I have the board meet when I want to show them things. There are three screens mounted along the far wall.

I chose it for her because it does not present like an interview space. It's more technical and cold. It's exactly the environment I want her walking into so she doesn't think this is some cushy job.

I stand near the windows with my phone in one hand and a cigarette I can't light on the main floor in the other. The portfolio Benney sent sits unopened on the table behind me.

I glance at the name again. Cera Simum. Odd name.

Measured footsteps approach from the hallway. I turn as the door opens.

A woman wearing a black blazer and pants steps inside and stops just past the threshold. Long, brown hair falls in waves past her shoulders, catching light from the windows. Her brown eyes and olive skin complement her angular face and small nose. A tiny beauty mark sits just above her upper lip.

She extends her hand. "Cera Simum. I appreciate the time."

Her voice is warm, but direct. There's no hesitation, which I appreciate. Something in the way she says it catches at me, a familiarity I can't place, there and gone before I can hold it. I have been up late too many nights in a row. I let it go. I take her hand and release it quickly.

"Wells Stone."

"It's a pleasure." She tilts her head slightly, and the corner of her mouth lifts pleasantly, but I can already tell she isn't one to take shit. Maybe she is a good fit to deal with me, after all.

I lean back against the edge of the table and cross my arms. "The position is visualization support. You understand that means translating technical intelligence into something the board and security council can digest without needing me to explain it twice, right?"