Page 87 of Jonesing for a Spy

After several long moments of watching cars fly by on the highway, I say quietly, “You, of all people, shouldn’t make such a suggestion. You know I can’t do that.”

“Well then…” Her eyes laser in on mine and her face turns mischievous. “You’re going to need help.”

Oh, fuck! I accidentally activated June Jones.

Strider

Monday rolls into Tuesday. Tuesday becomes Wednesday, but Wednesday brings an audit from state authorities on how we’re servicing our customers. They want to investigate our books, deep-dive the business, and interview employees.

The one-two punch of O’Neill and losing his crew was enough. The three-four of an audit this invasive is exhausting. I scrambled all day Wednesday and Thursday with authorities demanding this piece of documentation and that. On Friday morning, at my wits’ end, I arrive to find my desk commandeered by some badged official who has logged into my computer and has a flash drive attached.

And my patience is at an end.

I step out to call our company attorney since this is well beyond any policies or procedures the State of Illinois requires for contractors, even during set up.

A thought hits me. I text my brother-in-law-to-be.

I hate to ask, but I know you have skills. I need intel. The company is being forcibly raided right now by state authorities, but something isn’t sitting right in my gut. They’re way too invasive with the requirements based on what we have to account for. Those reports are filed as required by law with the state. (Not to mention the IRS and all the other BS hoops we jump through.)

I need an internal audit that will show me what I don’t know I’m missing. Let me know what you need to dig in and how much I owe you. If you need to farm it out, I trust your judgment.

Liam

The fuck? Let me start. I’ll ask Cian’s wife, Sariah, to do the same. She’s sneaky, and we worm in different ways. No money, brother. I’ll get back to you quickly.

That’s it. One ask and he’s on it and his sister-in-law is too.

Finally, I call Dad.

“Hello?”

“Dad, hey. Can you come to the office?” I pace and speak in hushed tones.

“What’s going on?”

I give him the run down. It isn’t because he runs the company or has any real stake, but because I need someone to remind me to stay calm. “I could use someone friendly at my back.”

“You make it sound like you’re under attack.”

It’s starting to feel that way.

“Just when you can. I’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can.” He clicks off, and I slide my phone in my pocket and wander to Kathy’s office.

Closing the door on our human resources manager’s office, I scrape a hand down my face and ask something that haunts me, “What happens if we accidentally compromise everyone’s social security numbers?”

Her mouth goes slack, and her spine shoots ramrod straight. “Besides being sued into extinction?

A knock behind me surprises us both.

The man who’d decided my desk was his own and my business was his to rifle through stands on the other side of the glass door.

“We’re done.” He hands an envelope my way, turns on a loafered heel, and walks away.

Sliding a finger under the seal, I get a paper cut that somehow feels more ominous than it should.

I’m right.