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“And what will you be doing?”
“Other than accessing their files and looking for the program they’re using to hack us?”
Was it weird that I was suddenly referring to the U.S. government as “us”?
“Finding the program won’t fix everything,” Chloe said.
“Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll find the program. You worry about the rest. I do the hacking and break the codes. The technological innovations, those are yours, right?” I couldn’t help it—I tried a no-teeth smile of my own.
Chloe opened her mouth to say something, and given the look on her freakishly symmetrical face, it probably would have been something I would have been forced to make her regret, but the audio track had picked up again, and we both stopped to listen.
“Mr. Gray here to see you, sir.”
Gray. As in Peyton, Kaufman, and Gray.
“I understand you’re meeting with one of our clients this afternoon,” the voice I identified as Gray said. “He’s concerned about the settlement we’ve drawn up. Most of his concerns with the settlement can be easily assuaged by putting him in contact with our claims department. The officer in charge is working out of his home today, but if you could tell the client that he can be reached at this number, that would be wonderful.”
There was a faint sound then. Paper being handed from one man to the next? Immediately, I began practically salivating for that paper. I wanted to know what it said. Was it actually a phone number? Was it a message that Mr. Gray, as a partner in a nefarious law firm, had known better than to speak out loud? Which “client” were they talking about? Heath Shannon, perhaps?
For a long moment, there was silence. Then the secretary-type person offered Gray a coffee, and as he declined, I could hear someone flip open a cell phone and type in a number—presumably the one Gray had just handed his cohort. So much for my secret message theory.
For about fifteen seconds after the interaction ended and miscellaneous office noises filled the tape, Chloe and I just stared at each other.
“Your pores are the size of land mines,” she said finally.
“The twins must be slipping.”
I gathered the papers she’d thrown at me. I could look at them just as well at home as here.
“We aren’t done here,” she said. “There’s still more audio, and you have no idea where Infotech is, let alone how you’re going to get close enough to enter into their wireless system. You don’t even know what kind of program you’re looking for, and we’re going in first thing tomorrow.”
I waved the papers in front of her face. “My pores and I will figure it out.” With all the dignity I could muster, I grabbed my pink cell phone, pulled down my cheer shorts (which had inched their way up my freshly waxed thighs), and asked Chloe one final question.
“Which way’s the exit?”
CHAPTER 17
Code Word: Gossip
The Quad was a frigging labyrinth. Even after Chloe haughtily pointed out the exit, I’d still somehow managed to get turned around. But I was not, repeat NOT, going to go back and ask for a clarification of her directions. I wasn’t an idiot, and I wasn’t about to risk feeding Chloe’s obvious superiority complex any more than I already had.
“You’re pissed at Chloe. And lost.”
Years of training had me whirling around to face the owner of the voice. As I turned, I shifted my weight back on my heels, sinking into a ready position.
Zee lifted her hands up and arched an eyebrow at me. “I come in peace.”
Feeling more than a little stupid, I rose out of my position and shifted my weight to the balls of my feet. “I’m not lost,” I grumbled. “Chloe just gives really crappy directions.”
“Which brings me back to my original point,” Zee said.
“You’re pissed at Chloe. What’d she do this time?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you asking as a PhD or as the resident Gossip Girl?”
Zee shrugged delicately. “Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.”
I was less than amused. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a stakeout?”
Zee shrugged. “Brooke decided I should stay here and work on profiling Heath Shannon. She took April with her instead.”
It just figured—I was here listening to audio clips with Chloe, and April got to go on a stakeout at the evil law firm.
Zee put her hand lightly on my shoulder. “Come on,” she said. “I’ve got some stuff you should probably see.”
I didn’t move.
“Seriously, Toby. I swear that it has nothing whatsoever to do with lipstick, pore-reducing cleanser, or whatever else has your panties in a twist.”
“Panties in a twist,” I said. “Is that a technical term?”
Zee rolled her eyes. “So what? Just because I have a PhD, I have to be smart all the time? A person can be more than one thing, Toby. I can be smart and a cheerleader and incredibly knowledgeable about celebrity marriages, all at the same time.”
“A girl of many talents,” I said.
Zee grinned. “Damn straight. Now, are you coming or aren’t you?”
She turned around and started walking off. Since I had exactly two options, Chloe or Zee, I chose Zee. Chloe was predictable (or, at least, predictably witchy). Zee was something of an enigma.
I followed her up a staircase, and after two security checkpoints (one that scanned our fingerprints, and one that scanned our retinas), found myself in a small room with a desk, a large filing cabinet, a computer, and a television.
“Your office?” I guessed. Zee nodded. It occurred to me that I should probably demand my own computer lab/office setup—Lucy and Chloe had labs; the twins had the salon; Zee had an office. Judging from her demeanor, I could only guess that Brooke probably ruled over a small country somewhere in the Quad. The least they could give me was an office with the world’s fastest computer.
“I’m sure it can be arranged,” Zee said, making me wonder if she was psychic. “But give it a few weeks. The rest of the girls are still adjusting to the new group dynamics.”
The way Zee switched from one mode to another, sounding like one of those girls one minute and full of psychobabble the next, freaked me out. Then again, wasn’t that what the Squad was all about?
“So what did you want to show me?”
The sooner she showed it to me, the sooner I could go home, eat, shower, and pass out. In that order.
