EIGHT
Jordan
To my relief, I found Ted in the boardroom on a call to his wife. He didn’t show any sign of suspicion throughout the rest of our meeting, his demeanor professional and light on our follow up call this morning.
His company is in trouble. And there’s only one person to blame.
Me.
I said I’d find a reason to visit Corinne at work, and what better way than to put my skills to use?
Chance, my ass. She might think it was pure coincidence, but I’ve planned her week down to the final detail, even if she does enjoy throwing spanners in the works such as her initial refusal to ‘try again.’
“This wasn’t on the cards, Jordan.” Perry sighs down the line. “You’ve gone and compromised the whole feckin’ plan.”
“How?” I snap, twirling a fountain pen on my leather desk pad. “There aren’t any links to Cloudbank.”
“Except for the glaringly obvious one, you stupid shite.”
“So what if they use the same third party to facilitate online transactions? Half the fucking world use CardPass.”
“It’s risky.”
“Just like you using the goddamn IP I have you for this job to place bets, Perry. Don’t give me a goddamn speech about keeping a clear division if you can’t do that yourself.”
He hesitates, silence my only answer. He knows I have him. We’re about to pull off one of the most extensive hacks since Gonzalez was jailed, and here he is using custom IP addresses, made for the job, to decide if Running Solo will place in some no-name derby.
Fucking idiot.
“Is she worth it?” he asks quietly.
“Enough that I’d kick myself if I didn’t try.” Only time will tell if this investment of time is my best yet.
“You know,” he gripes, “there are other ways to win over a girl.”
I chuckle, trapping the pen beneath my palm. “None that are nearly as much fun.” Not to mention trying.
If I’m to make a queen out of my foxy Corinne, then I need her to pass a few tests first. Tests she has no idea she even takes. Blind anonymity is the only way I can trial her loyalty, her integrity, and find out where her morals lie.
“What’s next then?” The click of a lighter follows Perry’s question.
“For us, or her?”
“Both.”
I push from the seat and cross to the windows of my home office. My gaze sweeps the visible perimeter of my property out of habit, and equally as much comfort.
“We start phase one in six days.”
“You don’t want to delay things while you play games?”
“I don’t let pleasure get in the way of business. You know that.”
He grunts. “She sticks around and it’s inevitable, you know?”
“I deal with it when it becomes an issue, then. No sense wasting hours on it pre-emptively if the scenario never transpires.”
He scoffs, the sharp suck of his breath indicating he takes a drag of his cigarette. “You’re talking about making a woman a part of your world, Jordan. The scenario is a given. An unavoidable truth. It’s unlike you to have it mapped out already.”
“I have it mapped out,” I assure him. “But I’m playing with a real, live human, buddy. Not data and code. The response isn’t as predictable.”
“In other words, she’s being a right cunt about it.”
“In other words, I like her fire.”
“Phase one. What’s the kill-switch.”
“There isn’t one.” Once we’re in, we’re all in. There’s no glory in deserting.
He hums his disapproval. “None at all?”
“Perry,” I level, pinching the bridge of my nose between forefinger and thumb. “Phase one is enough to get us ten to twenty each. The following two will barely add to that. If we’re caught, I want it to be for something noteworthy, not a page three anecdote in the morning paper.”
“If.” He sighs disapprovingly. “You’re using premeditative doubt.”
“I’d be a fool not to have it.” It’s human nature to worry, to consider all outcomes, even the unfavorable.
“Manifest this shit, Jordan. Visualize phase three. Visualize The Epilogue.”
The Epilogue.
What we’ve named the rapid fire sequence of events that gets us the fuck out of this god forsaken country and somewhere where nobody gives a fuck who you are, how you acquired your wealth, or what you spend it on.
“First million?” I ask with a smile.
He chuckles. “You know that.”
Idiot thinks with his little head far too much.
“I don’t know why you think you need to buy yourself a wife. Women harm each other to get to you.”
“Wives,” he stresses. “If I buy them, they can’t bitch about sharing me, can they?”
“You’re sick.”
“And you’re the fucker who mentors that illness.”
“Touché.”
He coughs out a laugh. “Feck off and have your fun with the woman, would ya? Time’s running out.”
“I know.” I check my watch. “I’ll call you again in two days. We’ll meet to run through the processes again.”
“Of course.”
Perry disconnects, leaving me in my office with a sinking feeling that Corinne won’t make it all the way through the screening process I have for her.
First test starts in one hour.
If she fails this, then the whole point of this exercise with Perry loses all reason.
Impress me.