No One to Trust (2 page)

After a minute of working, I realized that no one was talking. They were all staring at me. I jotted down a few more letters and then suddenly I got a sick knot in my stomach. With a sinking feeling of dread, I looked up at Niles Foreman and met his eyes across the table. In an instant, I could see he already had this code broken and knew exactly what it said.

I knew what it said, too, even though I had only translated part. With a miserable feeling in the pit of my stomach, I finished and slid it across the table to Ben.

Ben looked down at the translation and I saw his eyes go wide as he looked back at me. Clearly impatient, Finn reached across the table and snatched the translation from Ben without even asking.

Silence hung in the room until Finn looked up and glared at our clients. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Niles shook his head. “I assure you, it is not.”

Frozen to my chair, I watched as Niles snatched the translation from Finn and slid it back to me. “So, young lady, what do you make of all this?”

Once again I looked down at the paper, hoping that by some miracle the translation had changed during its trip around the table.

But it hadn’t. There, written in my neat handwriting, were two lines:
SOS. Need Lexi Carmichael’s help. GU

Everyone’s eyes were glued to me. Great. I tried to untangle my tongue to talk. “I don’t know Darren Greening. I have no idea why he would write this.”

“You went to Georgetown University.” Niles sounded as if he thought I was somehow responsible for Darren’s disappearance. “So did he. I presume that’s why he wrote GU at the end of the note.”

I lifted my hands in the universal gesture of “who knows?” “Well, thousands of other students have also attended Georgetown University, including Mr. Shaughnessy here. But I assure you, Darren Greening was not in my social circle.” I didn’t even
have
a social circle except for Basia, but no need to point that out right now.

“Then why did he write this?” Randall asked. “Why did he name you in particular?”

I leaned forward on the table. “Do you know how many Lexi Carmichaels there are in the world? Maybe another one went to Georgetown University.”

Niles laughed. “I find that highly unlikely.”

Statistically I knew he was right. Jeez, why couldn’t my mom have named me Jane Smith?

“That still doesn’t mean it’s me.”

“Perhaps not, but don’t you think it’s rather coincidental that the message was written in code and you just happen to know cryptanalysis?” Lawrence tried to stare me down.

He had a point, but their problem still wasn’t my fault. “Well, how do we know for certain that GU even stands for Georgetown University?” I countered.

“Perhaps because he went there.” Randall looked as if he was losing patience.

Ben looked across the table at me thoughtfully. “You have another theory, Lexi?”

I didn’t, but I didn’t want to admit it. “Well, there is always…say, Griffith University,” I said, groping for another, or
any
other, possible explanation.

Finn jotted it down. “Where is it located?”

“Australia.”

Finn stopped writing and rolled his eyes at me. Okay, it was a long shot, but it was all I could come up with on short notice.

“All right, so that wasn’t my best theory. But honestly, GU could mean anything. It could be a company, a location, a scientific notation.”

“Did anyone check with Darren’s parents?” Finn’s question gave me a slight reprieve from the accusing looks of the Flow trio. “Perhaps the name Lexi Carmichael is familiar to them.”

“Darren’s parents are both dead and he’s an only child.”

“Well, maybe he has a childhood friend or a long-lost relative by that name.” I was really reaching now, but being named in that note seriously freaked me out.

Niles turned his steely gaze on me. “Whereas speculation is sometimes helpful, Miss Carmichael, I think that in this particular case it would be more prudent to search your memory in the event you might have run across Darren Greening at some point in your life and had some kind of a meaningful encounter.”

I sighed. It was becoming quite clear why I’d been invited to this meeting. Good old Niles had probably specifically requested I attend once he’d figured out this is where I worked. I wondered how much they already knew about me, and then decided I didn’t want to know.

“Do you have a picture of Darren?”

Niles reached into his briefcase and slid a photograph of Darren across the table to me. “It was taken two months ago at the lab.”

Darren was supposedly twenty-five years old but he didn’t look a day over eighteen to me. He was tall, gangly and his white lab coat hung on his thin frame like a sack. Light brown hair badly in need of a cut curled over his ears and fell across his forehead as if he were using it to hide from the camera. Thick-framed glasses dominated his entire bony face. I didn’t have to be a psychologist to see that this was a guy who was painfully shy and didn’t like having his picture taken. I felt an instant, kindred connection—one geek to another. But other than that, the face didn’t ring a bell. Nothing. No niggling familiarity and no recognition.
Nada.
I couldn’t ever remember seeing or meeting him.

I pushed the photo back toward Niles. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever met him before.”

Niles’s lips thinned in anger. “Regardless, we apparently have little choice. We’d still like to put X-Corp on the case. Find this young man and recover our investment.”

Finn cleared his throat. “As much as it pains me to say this, I’m afraid X-Corp doesn’t really deal in missing persons. We’re a technology-based computer and intelligence security firm, protecting virtual information and assets. You’d be better off getting help from a private detective agency.”

Niles leaned across the table. “Darren’s mind
is
our company’s most valuable asset. Consider him as you would a piece of commercial information that needs to be kept safe from our competitors. To put it bluntly, we need you to recover and secure our company’s greatest intelligence secret. But most importantly, for some unfathomable reason, Darren is frightened and has clearly instructed us to put Miss Carmichael on the case. For all we know, she may be the only person able to aid us in our recovery of him. Can you help us or not?”

Finn stood up. “Will you permit me a few minutes to discuss this with my colleagues?”

When Niles nodded, Ben and I filed out with Finn to the corridor. After Finn shut the door, both of them stared at me for a long time.

“What?” I lifted my hands. “I told the truth. I don’t know this guy.”

“I believe you,” Finn said. “I’m just not certain we should take the case. What do you two think?”

Ben shrugged. “In my opinion, it doesn’t sound that ominous. Probably the kid is just paranoid after his friend died and he ran away to hide from the vulture investors and get his thoughts together.”

“Then what’s with the wacko note in Navajo code with my name on it?”

“Maybe he admired you from a distance when he was at Georgetown,” Ben offered.

Finn frowned. “Or perhaps this is just a stunt from a socially warped guy who is too afraid to call you up and ask you out.”

He didn’t look happy about that at all, and part of me hoped he was just a tad bit jealous.

“Um, I don’t think so. I don’t really see myself as so intimidating that a guy wouldn’t call me.”

There was a moment of thoughtful silence but unfortunately, no one seemed inclined to argue with me.

“Well, there has to be some connection to you,” Ben insisted.

“None that leaps to mind. Really.”

“Do you think we should take the case?” Finn paced a few steps. “It is a little out of our realm.”

Ben rubbed his chin. “Well, most detective work is done on the computer anyway these days. I figure it won’t take us long to find the kid. And if that’s all they want from us, it should be a piece of cake.”

Finn turned to me. “Lexi?”

“I’m on board if you really want to do this. I’ll try to figure out where our paths might have crossed,
if
the person named in that note is really intended to be me.”

“I suppose it’s settled then. Lexi, I’ll need you to check your old yearbooks and talk to friends to see if you can find anything else that may link you to Darren Greening.”

“Leave the technology side to me,” Ben said. “I’ll ask around and find out how well-known this kid is among the energy-related nanotechnology set. I can also do a standard run on this kid’s credit and bank account, see if anything unusual comes up.”

“I’ll go have a talk with Michael Hart’s father and see if I can get a copy of the accident report. Maybe we’ll find something useful there.” Finn put a hand on the doorknob. “Now I’ll return to our friends from Flow Technologies and hammer out the business details. You two can get to work.”

I started to leave and then stopped. “Ask if you can keep the photo of Darren. Maybe if I discreetly show it around, it’ll jog someone’s memory.”

Finn nodded and disappeared back into the conference room. Ben headed for his office without another word to me, so I trudged back to mine feeling guilty for something I didn’t even do.

This whole mess was so indicative of my luck. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was to make Finn and Ben sorry they had brought me on board. Why couldn’t our first case be something simple like a company wanting us to test their computer security? Why did it have to be a note from a troubled guy who, for some unfathomable reason, pointed a finger at me?

My Georgetown University yearbooks were at home, but I did a quick search on the GU Alumni Association website. Darren had signed up, but the information was minimal. He’d graduated the same year as I did and had double-majored in physics and biochemistry—two subjects I liked but didn’t particularly excel at. Other than that, there was no other obvious, glaring connection. So what in the hell was the supposed correlation between the two of us?

I refilled my mug with coffee from the kitchen and then returned to my office to search Google for Darren’s name. I perused the most popular hits—a few papers he had apparently published online as an undergraduate. I quickly skimmed through the titles: “Nanotechnology as Key to Energy Solutions,” “Developing Energy Sources Responsibly Using Nanotechnology” and “The Downsides of Nanotechnology,” before printing all three of them to read. I had just stapled the first article together when Finn came in and dropped Darren’s photo on my desk.

“It’s a done deal.”

“Congratulations.” I tried to smile. One of us should at least pretend to be cheerful. I had once fantasized about the two of us drinking champagne to celebrate the company’s first new case. Fat chance of that now. Finn looked about as merry as a gargoyle.

“I just hope we can bring a quick closure to this one.”

“I’ll do my best to find the connection. If Darren wanted to get my attention, he’s got it. Now I’ve just got to follow the clues to him.”

Finn smiled at me. “That’s what I like best about you, Lexi—dogged determination.”

Not exactly what I hoped Finn would like best, but geek girls can’t be too picky. “Just call me Rover for short.”
Rover?
Oh, God, why couldn’t the floor open up and swallow me whole?

Note to self: Keep stupid mouth shut.

Finn chuckled. “Hey, I’ve never noticed your glasses before.”

I blushed, taking them off and setting them on my desk. “Computer glasses. Too much time staring at the screen has whacked out my eyes.”

“Cute. They suit you.”

“They’re only for screen,” I insisted.

“Nonetheless, right now I have an interesting fantasy going on in my head involving you and those glasses.”

“Jeez,” I murmured, wishing I could figure out if he were joking or not. I was at a triple disadvantage here because a.) We met under life and death circumstances involving international intrigue, lies and spies; b.) He was my boss; and c.) I sucked at social skills. There had been a couple of kisses, but I didn’t have a clue what they meant to him, whether we even had a relationship and what would happen next.

To my disappointment, he didn’t comment further on this. “Well, let me know if anything on Darren Greening pops for you,” he said instead, heading for the door.

“Sure. Will do.”

He left my office and then, to my surprise, popped back in. “Oh, hell, I almost forgot. Are you free tomorrow evening, Lexi?”

“Free?”

“Yes, as in available to go out with me. On a date.”

“A date?” I squeaked.

“As in a social appointment or engagement arranged beforehand with another person.”

“I know what a date is.” My cheeks heated. “Um, let me check my schedule.” I pretended to consult the digital calendar on my phone which I already knew was blank for three hundred and sixty-five days. “Hey, good news. It looks like I’m free. Where are we going?”

“I’d like you to accompany me to a fundraiser. It’s a gathering to support young Irish artists trying to make it in the U.S.”

“It sounds great.” I wasn’t sure what one did at a fundraiser but at least I would be surrounded by other people who could help me carry a conversation with him and wouldn’t be left wondering what the hell I should say on our so-called date.

“Excellent. I’ll RSVP for us. Lexi, I’m really looking forward to this.”

After he left, I sank back in my chair and fanned myself with a manila folder. Oh. My. God. Finn had just officially asked me out and I was hyperventilating to prove it.

Taking a deep breath, I set the folder on the desk. As much as I wanted to savor the moment, I couldn’t dwell on it now. I had to figure out my connection to Darren Greening and fast.

I opened my browser and began reading more on Flow Technologies. The firm had been started just over two years ago with one and a half million dollars from Darren Greening and Michael Hart. Hart’s father, a pharmaceutical mogul from Manassas, Virginia, had contributed most of the start-up capital for the boys. Within nine months they had easily raised over fifteen million dollars in additional financing from three other wealthy, private investors.

A copy of an article from the
Washington Post
on the company quoted one of the venture capitalists as saying
“nanotechnology is a megatrend of the type that biotechnology and wireless have been.”

I was interrupted in my reading by a noise in the doorway to my office. I glanced up to see my best friend Basia Kowalski leaning against the open door, perky and cute. Basia had also been hired by Finn to work for the company. She speaks about a dozen languages and had, before coming aboard X-Corp, been running her own freelance translation business and working part-time for Berlitz—the company that makes those nifty little foreign-language phrase books. Finn made her an offer she couldn’t refuse and so here we are working together.

Today Basia was dressed in a crisp peach-colored blouse and black skirt, and her short brown bobbed hair and makeup looked perfect. I looked down at my rumpled slacks and the light blue blouse I had only half-heartedly run an iron over this morning. Earlier I discovered a hole in my pantyhose right over my left big toe and had generously slathered clear nail polish on it, hoping it wouldn’t run any farther up my leg. Unfortunately I hadn’t let it dry long enough before putting my pumps back on, so now I was pretty sure my shoe was glued to my body, as well. When I look at people like Basia and Finn, I feel an ugly flare of jealousy that they can look so professional and cheerful when I feel like a gangly version of the green ogre from the movie
Shrek.