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For Maddy’s mother was in town.
Maddy and Constance weren’t close—in fact, Maddy hadn’t even contacted her during those terrifying months when her life was in danger. But since she’d called to tell Connie she was marrying Marc, her mother had been like a kid in a candy store.
Maddy and her first husband, Conrad, had been married for several years and hadn’t been the kind of passionate love couple her mother wanted for her daughter. Therefore, all wedding plans had been tepid, at best. But now that she knew Maddy was marrying the love of her life? She was in wedding heaven.
She was also an early riser, and Maddy had spent the past hour on the phone with her, rolling her eyes and listening to the elaborate floral arrangements her mother had in mind for the reception.
Marc had listened until he couldn’t take it anymore. Thank heavens Maddy had talked that exclusive wedding planner into coming on board at the last minute, to manage the wedding and Maddy’s mother. A professional like that was worth every penny she got. Let her run the show. All Marc wanted was his ring on Maddy’s finger and hers on his. He wasn’t sure why flowers and table settings seemed to be dominating the process. And he wasn’t hanging around the duplex to find out.
He’d arrived at the brownstone to hear banging, clattering, and an enthusiastic “Yes!” echoing upstairs from Ryan’s lair. Okay, now his curiosity was piqued. He walked downstairs and knocked.
“It’s me,” he said.
“Door’s open,” Ryan called back.
Marc stepped inside and was immediately whacked in the face by a TRX that was anchored to and hanging from the door. He ducked and then grimaced at the clutter that dominated the room.
All the desk and computer surfaces were filled—printouts scattered all over them. Papers were strewn on the chairs and had overflowed onto the floor, where they remained, untouched. And another TRX was swinging from a post in the back of the lair. Ryan had clearly skipped the gym and done his workout in here.
Taking up the most space of all were the mechanical gizmo parts thrown everywhere, literally swallowing up the rest of the room.
“You’re working on something,” Marc said, weaving his way through the clutter to where Ryan was seated on a workbench.
“Not just something,” Ryan replied. He stopped tinkering with his latest contraption and looked up with a broad grin, holding it up for Marc to admire.
Marc eyed the thing. It was a ten-inch-long brown cylinder with two wires coming out of it.
“Meet Otter,” Ryan said.
“Okay, I give.” Marc took the bait. “What does this new invention do, and why is it called Otter? I don?
?t see any tail, fur, or feet.”
Ryan gave an exasperated sigh, although he still looked both proud and smug. “Otter is my latest and greatest way to gather intelligence. As for his name, he’s modeled after a North American river otter pup—same size and body build. More importantly, otters are intelligent, highly curious, and handsome animals. We have a lot in common.”
Rolling his eyes, Marc snorted. “Humble as ever.”
“Just speaking the truth.”
“Right. Go on.”
“Anyway, Otter is brilliant in his intelligence gathering.” Ryan leaned forward in excitement. “Here’s the deal. We plant him in a company that has information we want to find out, especially when we need to sift through large amounts of data contained in a database.”
“Like a cell phone company.”
“Exactly.” Ryan pointed at the two wires. “This plug goes into a network connection, and this one goes into an outlet. The key is to find a place behind a desk or cabinet where no one will look. Otter will slowly but surely gather information, encrypt it, and relay it back to Yoda through a zigzag path across the Internet. No one will be able to connect the information leak to us. Amazing, huh?”
“Wrong, Kemosabe.” It was Marc’s turn. “How did you plan on getting Otter inside the targeted company? I don’t see any legs, wheels, or tank treads.”
A scowl. “I haven’t worked that part out yet.”
“Well, you won’t work it out, because it can’t be done. That’s where the skills of a clandestine operative can’t be replaced by an electromechanical contraption. You need human skills to get past security. Human skills to scan the environment for an opportunistic place to locate…uh, Otter.” Marc bit back a smile as he said the name. “Human skills to improvise in real time, making split-second decisions that turn defeat into victory.”
“I assume you’re referring to yourself?”
“Of course.”
“You’re not a whole lot humbler than I am,” Ryan pointed out. A gleam came into his eyes. “On the other hand, we do make a great team. We’ve pulled this kind of thing off together more than once.”
