Anika:
I plug the flash drive that Braxton gave me into a dummy PC, and open its contents. On it there’s a list of instructions on where to be, when, what all they need from me, and so on. This all seems so contrived for a group of criminals. I commit the information to memory and delete the files and remove them from the drive. Switching back to my main computer, I edit the content, format the remaining files and transfer them over to the portable drive I will deliver on Wednesday. This only takes me a few hours, but it will be time well spent. Even if my plan fails and someone walks away with this, it won’t be even remotely close to what Carter has prototyped. It can’t be since I’m still unsure of their intentions.
I know all about this technology and the things it can do, and I’m not about to let go of it. I’ve been feeding them bits and pieces since all of this began, and sure, if they put the pieces together, they will build something workable, but not nearly as capable. The drive I’m giving them Wednesday has everything on it, and at first glance it will appear to be all of the plans, hardware specs, software coding, instructions and notes, but if accessed and run for long periods of time, like I know it will be, the virus I implanted will eat away at the files and computer. Any networked computers associated with it will also be affected. It will destroy all of their data while simultaneously pinging government agency networks and alerting them to the identities of the users, their locations and the ability to remotely access copies of the non-corroded files on the back end. This may be the most complex thing I’ve ever coded and designed. I honestly don’t think anything like this has ever been done before, but I tested it, and it worked.
I finish transferring everything to the external drive, and check my phone. It’s after midnight now, and I still haven’t heard from Carter. I shouldn’t worry, but he said he’d call…he always calls. I decide he’s just busy and get back to work responding to a few emails I never got around to earlier.
****
I wake with my alarm and the soft peachy glow of morning sunlight peeking through my curtains. I pull on a pantsuit, and get ready quickly, styling my hair into loose waves and applying my usual makeup. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s this nagging in my mind telling me something isn’t quite right. Although early, I find myself eager to get to the office. I need Carter. I feel like he is the only one that has the ability to ground me and calm me when I begin to derail.
I check my phone, noticing I still have no messages from Carter and now I really begin to worry. As I drive, my mind runs through the million and one things that could have happened to him with all of the shit I’m tangled up in. I park in my designated space and practically run from the parking garage to the office.
When I enter the lobby and swipe my badge, it beeps and instead of turning green like it does every day, it remains red. I look at the guard, and he glances at the screen, reading something.
“Is there something wrong with my badge?” I ask him.
“I’m sorry Ms. Borkova. Let me call security down here so someone can escort you to your floor.” He picks up the phone to call, and I feel the unease begin to settle in.
A few moments pass, and finally a couple of security guards appear to escort me up the elevator. Reaching the floor with Carter’s and my offices, they take me directly to Leanne’s desk, never leaving my side.
“Leanne?” I question, and her eyes widen when she looks up.
“Ms. Borkova, come with me. She states formally without her usual warmth, getting up from her desk.” I keep pace with her. The security guards are never more than a few feet behind us as she walks me to my office. We reach the door and she looks up at me with a disappointed look.
“You will need to gather your things and hand in your access cards to me when you are finished. Your employment at Lintech has effectively been terminated.”
“Where’s Carter, Leanne?” I ask, my voice deceptively calm.
“Mr. Linwood will not be in the office today.”
“Can you tell me why?” I ask.
She looks me square in the eye with the disappointed look my mother used to give us when we did something wrong, “He said that you will know exactly what you did. You have ten minutes. Mr. Harris and Mr. Trent will be waiting for you outside. Take care of yourself, Anika.” With that she turns and walks back down the hallway towards her desk outside Carter’s office.
I open the door to my office, and realize there really isn’t much here that I need. I have a travel mug I really like, a spare set of glasses and a gray cashmere wrap for when its drafty, but beyond that, my corner office is bare and devoid of anything meaningful. I let out a sarcastic laugh at the parallels this space draws with my life. Since I have a few minutes, I decide to sit down at my desk and turn on my computer. I need to see if I can get any information about what exactly he knows. I try my log in, but it is locked just like I knew it would be, but trying to circumvent the system, I try the group logon, then Carter’s. Everything has been reset overnight.
“How did this happen?” I wonder out loud. Glancing at the stack of papers on my desk, I spot a folded piece of stationery from Carter’s desk. I pick it up and open it to find Carter’s neat handwriting printed across the page. It’s only three lines, but those three lines snip the final threads of sanity that were holding me together.
“I’m disappointed, but somehow not surprised.
You warned me time and time again, but I ignored it because I trusted you.
I loved you…but never again.”
Tears I haven’t consciously let fall in over a decade, cascade down my cheeks, spilling all of the feelings I’ve tried in vain not to feel. I should’ve known he would figure out what I was doing here sooner or later. Carter is brilliant, and I didn’t give him enough credit.
“Ma’am, it’s time to go,” one of the guards says, and I grab a tissue to quickly blot my eyes like it makes a bit of difference. I stand and grab the few personal items I have and shove them into my black Celine bag.
I follow the guards out, handing Leanne all of my keycards before leaving.
“Anika,” she calls, stopping me and I turn.
“He really loved you. I thought you were the one for him,” she says with an emotion I can’t place, but it looks like disappointment.
“I’m not the one for anybody, but I really loved him too. Someone should know,” I say and make my escape before more tears have a chance to fall.
I pace back and forth across the rug in my living room. It’s been several hours, and Carter still will not answer his phone, texts remain unread, and I’m losing my mind with worry over him over us. There is no us, I realize. But it doesn’t change the face I’m losing my mind over this. I know I have to do something, and I curse myself. The old Anika would keep going and not look back, but this version of myself, I don’t even recognize. My world is collapsing and I can’t hold it up on my own. How can I when Carter was the one holding me up? The tears continue to fall, emptying my soul, and I feel like there will be nothing left of me if I can’t make them stop.
I give myself another ten minutes to pull myself together before I run to my room and change into comfortable clothes. I strap myself up with weapons, not having any idea of what my plan is. Carter may be OK, he may be avoiding me, but either way I figure that being overly prepared is better than not being prepared at all. Running to my garage, I slide into my car and drive like a lunatic through rush hour traffic to find him. No plan comes to me because the only thing running through my mind is how much I need Carter to hear the truth even if it doesn’t change the outcome.
I arrive at Carter’s building, just as it begins to pour. The once sunny day, turning dark just like my mood. The doorman opens the door, not meeting my eyes, and I’m assuming it is because of my swollen face and disheveled appearance. Quickly, I walk towards the elevator bank putting my keys, wallet and phone into the front zip pocket of my pullover. I almost make it to the elevators, when the security guard at the desk calls out to me.
“Ma’am.” I don’t turn, I just hit the button. “Ms. Borkova! Stop. You’re not on Mr. Linwood’s approved guest list anymore. If you don’t leave the premises immediately, I’m going to have to call the police.” I turn to face the man, and don’t say a word as I walk out the door and down the sidewalk into the rain.
I pull the baseball cap down and the hood of my pullover up. Although, it does very little to block the pounding rain, it hides my face from security cameras, and that’s all I need for five minutes. It’s early evening, but with the low hanging clouds and tall buildings, it is dark enough that I know the street lights will begin to turn on any moment. Knowing I only have a small window of opportunity to get inside, I keep my head down and skirt around the side of the building and into the alley. Thankful I’m wearing my tennis shoes and running tights, I jog down the alley and around behind the building where the loading docks are. I pull my small Glock from the back waistband of my pants, not having time to take off my pullover to get to my chest strap.
Keeping my face shielded by my hat and hood, I point the gun at the first security camera and pull the trigger. The sound echoes off the building, but I don’t stop, aiming it at the second, and pulling the trigger again, busting the camera and lens. I look around for the control panel that I know operates the loading doors and is attached to the security system. I may or may not have done my research on his building at one point or another because I’m nosey like that. I know I have only moments before people come to investigate from the shots I fired.
I see that the front cover of the control panel just pops on, like a cheap piece of shit, but I can’t pry it off with just my fingers. I reach to my hip where my knife is strapped and I use the back of the blade as leverage to pry off the front casing. I let it fall to the concrete landing as I stare at the jumble of wires in front of me. Shit. I’ve only done this once before. I hold the hilt of my knife with my teeth as my wet fingers trace the colored wires in the box trying to track where they originate. This probably isn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever had, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Finally, I manage to track the wire I was looking for, and I pull the knife from my teeth, looping the wire around the blade. I don’t second guess it, I just yank and make the cut. Sparks fly from the box and they sizzle in the pouring rain, smelling of hot burning plastic. I cut the second wire and hit the lever on the side of the box. Miraculously, just as I hear police sirens in the distance, the heavy segmented door begins to slide up revealing the maintenance hallways in the basement. I sprint inside using the emergency release to close it again.
Cold and wet, I jog down the service hallway, my running shoes squeaking on the gray tiled floor. At the end, I see the door for a stairwell, and I check the fire escape map to verify where I’m at and where I should be going. I exit the stairwell and go back to the large freight elevator at the other end of the hall that serves the maintenance workers and building staff, and I hop inside hitting the top floor. This should come out in another service hallway that connects to the fire escape on Carter’s floor. I wait impatiently as the slow-moving elevator climbs floor after floor, until I finally reach the top. The doors open with an obnoxious ping, and I exit, opening the fire escape door and exiting into the foyer like hallway that contains the main elevator and Carter’s front door.
I breathe deeply to prepare myself for this as I walk the extra few feet to his door and hit the doorbell. After a moment, there’s small tap on the door from the other side and a heavy thump, but nothing else.
“Carter. I can hear you. Please open the door,” I say, loud enough for him to hear.
Nothing.
“Carter. I really think we should talk,” I call out again, but once again am met with disheartening silence. He needs to understand. I need to make him understand, even it means showing him all of me. He begged me, and I couldn’t let him see me. I still don’t want to let him in, but if he’s going to hate me for something, he should at least hate me for the truth. I’m a monster. I won’t deny it, but I’m finding that there may be room for more in my heart than hate, and all I’ve done is try to keep him safe. We can’t be what he wanted us to be, but he should know what he felt wasn’t one sided. It was the only honest thing about us, and it was real even if I didn’t want to admit it to him or myself.
After waiting a few minutes, I realize that he isn’t going to let me in. Fine. It doesn’t matter if he will or not. I take a look at his door handle and wonder if I could pick the lock. Probably, but I don’t have anything with me to do it. I could blow the handle off, but he’s got a security system. Ok then. I go back to the fire escape and climb the two flights to the roof exit. I use my baseball cap to wedge in between the latch so it doesn’t lock on me just in case this plan is a bust too. I walk over to the edge and I can see, Carter’s upstairs patio from here. It is really only a few feet over, but about a fifteen foot drop from here. The rain has abated some, but it is still steady and penetrating. I’m desperate, and I’ve literally got nothing to lose so I go for it. Taking a few steps back, I sprint in a mad dash for the roofs edge. At the last instant, I hurdle the railing and I’m in a free fall.
Time seems to slow as I see the city street spread out beneath me and feel the rain and wind pelting me. For a moment, I freeze, but quickly realize I need to tuck and roll if I don’t want to wind up with two broken legs. I curl my body protectively and take the impact with my shoulder as I roll, and crash into the black metal lounge chairs.
“Shit!” I curse, feeling the goose egg, already forming on my forehead. The hot trickle down the side of my face tells me, I split it open, but ask me if I give a damn. I stand quickly and walk to the glass doors that lead into Carter’s bedroom. The lights are on, but the room appears to be empty. I grasp the handle and turn, feeling the door’s latch click open, and I feel satisfaction knowing all my efforts weren’t for nothing. Taking a step inside, I close the door behind me, and the silence is almost deafening compared to the dull roar of the city outside. I feel almost calm again knowing he’s near, and smelling him all around me. My feet somehow move forward on their own, my body just knowing where I’ll find him.
My hand slides down the metal stair railing as I descend on shaking legs. From where I am, I can see Carter leaning over the kitchen island with a bottle of scotch in front of him. He doesn’t look like the Carter I know. He looks defeated, and I did that. I take another step, and he must sense someone is watching him because he snaps to attention his shocked eyes meeting mine.
“How the fuck did you get in here, Anika?” his contemptuous tone is expected, but still feels like a punch to the stomach.
“The balcony,” I answer simply, continuing down the stairs towards him.
“How in the ever-living hell?” he begins to question before he shakes his head and shuts me down.
“I want you to leave.”
“I’m not leaving until you hear what I have to say, Carter.” I close the gap until we’re only inches apart. His jaw ticks as he stares daggers at me.
“Get the fuck out of my house before I put you out,” he says calmly and quietly.
“No,” I say defiantly as the first tear falls down my cheek. My heart is breaking inside my chest, but I’m not done fighting, and he hasn’t seen what I’m made of yet.
“GET THE FUCK OUT!” he roars in to my face, so loud my ears ring. He turns suddenly, slamming his fist into the stone countertop before taking a pull directly from the bottle.
“I’m not going anywhere until you listen.”
“I hate you,” he spits, and I see the tears shimmering in his eyes.
“You should. I do…” I agree and he looks up, piercing me with his green gaze. I can feel the disdain dripping off of him and it makes me feel pathetic.
“I know you’re going to stand there until you get what you came for, so get on with it. I don’t know what else you could possibly want because it can’t be anything you haven’t already taken from me.”
“I need to tell you the truth,” I say, and he laughs.
“The truth? That’s hysterical coming from the woman that doesn’t know the meaning of the word. So, let’s hear it, Ani. What have you got to say?” the way he’s speaking to me slices me open, and he pulls out a seat at the island and sits down looking at me with a cold stare.
“I don’t know what you know, or what you think you know. So, I’m just going to lay it out there for you.” I begin to pace.
“Ok, why don’t we start with Braxton?” he asks and I stop. He knows a lot more than I thought he did. The question is, just how much?