When The Devil Whistles (35 page)

She felt a sudden temptation to make it happen to him, but resisted. “What happened to Franklin Roh? Did he move offices?”

“I wondered the same thing when I walked in this morning. It is possible, but I would have expected an e-mail from him or something—‘Rajiv, come see my new pad’ or ‘Hey, Rajiv, now I’ve got a view of the health club pool next door.’ But I have heard nothing from him.” He paused and looked her in the eye before going on in a lower voice. “Do you think perhaps something happened to him?”

She realized that her subconscious had been thinking exactly that for the last couple of minutes. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps he was punished for—” He shrugged his round shoulders. “For something.”

“Like what?” she repeated.

Rajiv leaned in close, and for a horrifying moment Allie was afraid he would try to kiss her. But he went for her ear rather than her mouth.

“He was watching you.” She felt his breath on her ear. “Franklin was watching you.”

“What… what are you talking about?”

“There is a tiny camera in that tree beside your cubicle. I saw him put it there last week.”

Her eyes went round and her mouth dropped open. “Really?”

He nodded. “I said nothing because I did not know why he was putting the camera there, and we have had security problems in the past. But perhaps it was not the only camera.” He grinned and winked. “Maybe you were not the only pretty young woman he was watching. Maybe one of the other ones caught him.”

“That must be it.” She started walking back to her desk. “See you later.”

“Lunch perhaps? If you are feeling better.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

He plucked a Post-It off a pad on a nearby desk and scribbled something on it. “My cell phone number. I do not usually give it out, but I will make an exception for you.”

“Thanks.” Allie shoved it into the bottom of her purse and did her best to forget it was there.

Allie began to feel better as she walked to her cubicle. The fear she had felt since discovering the camera lifted. Rajiv was probably right—Roh was just a weird guy who liked to spy on women. He’d gotten caught, and they fired him on the spot. It all made sense. And with him gone, she could go back to trolling for good documents and not worry about having someone literally watching over her shoulder. She would make a show of looking in the tree, but she had no doubt that the camera would be gone. Roh probably moved it as soon as she left her desk yesterday.

When Allie reached her cubicle, she found a Post-It on her computer screen that read “Please report to Randy in Accounts Payable, 4
^th
fl. East.”

She went up to the fourth floor and found a harried-looking man standing outside an office on the east side of the building. The nameplate beside the door said “Randy Johnson.” He was having conversations with two people at the same time, and she could hear the phone ringing in the office behind him.

“Randy?”

He held up a hand to the person who was talking and looked over. “What?”

“I’m Allie Whitman. I’m supposed to report to you.”

“You the CPA temp?”

She nodded.

“All right, I need you to do an expense allocation for each of our ships based on when they went on the Golden Gate project—fuel, maintenance, crew wages, everything. I want it on a daily, weekly and monthly basis. Oh, and make sure it’s in an Excel spreadsheet. I hate the reports that other computer program spits out.”

That would keep her busy for a while. “Um, okay. Where’s the data?”

“I don’t know. Go talk to Robin. Conference room at the end of the hall.” He turned away from her, signaling that she had been dismissed.

The conference room he sent her to was just like the others she had seen—crammed full of people, paper, and computer terminals. She stood uncertainly in the doorway for several seconds, waiting for someone to notice her. When no one did, she called out, “I’m looking for Robin.”

A large African American woman on the far side of the room motioned her over. “What is it, dear?”

“Randy Johnson sent me to you to get the data on costs for the company’s ships. Do you have it?”

“Oh, he found someone to do the allocations!” She clapped her hands. “Good, good, good. Here sit down beside me.” She patted the seat next to her and pointed to a vacant computer terminal.

There went any chance of doing some subtle poking around, at least until she finished this project. Oh well, better get it over with fast.

As she sat down, however, a new idea occurred to her: maybe she could get something useful out of Robin. In Allie’s experience, what companies regarded as tightly held secrets were often semiopen knowledge among employees. You just had to find the right person to chat up.

Chatting up Robin turned out not to be very difficult. If anything, it was far too easy. Within half an hour, Allie knew that Robin had three children, six grandchildren, and a wide assortment of nieces and nephews. One of her nephews was about Allie’s age, handsome, single, and “has a good job with the Navy in San Jose.” Maybe Allie would like to meet him? No? Well, Robin hoped he met the right girl soon. He never brought girlfriends to family gatherings, and “some people” were beginning to wonder whether he might be gay.

By lunch, even Rajiv would have been a relief. But duty called. Allie picked up a wilted Caesar salad and a bottle of Honest Tea at the cafeteria and sat down next to Robin at a table with two other women who had an equal capacity for conversation. Eventually, Allie managed to turn the torrent of conversation from their families and homes to their workplace.

Finally, after nearly an hour of work, the moment was ripe. Allie leaned forward. “So, what deep, dark secrets does the company have? What’s with all the security cameras and stuff?”

The women looked at each other. “I never really thought about the cameras,” said one with flaming red hair. “Are there more here than other places?”

Robin snorted. “More than any place I’ve worked. Even more than a Walmart. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve got them in the bathrooms.”

“They can’t do that,” objected the redhead. “It’s not legal.”

The other women laughed and rolled their eyes.

“Yeah, right,” said a skinny young blond woman with teased hair.

“Like that would stop them,” put in the redhead.

“But why would they need them?” persisted Allie. “Is it all just to keep people from stealing staplers and pens?”

“I’ll bet it’s because of those guys from the ships,” said the big-haired blonde. “Like that ROV guy from the
Grasp II
. The ugly one.”

“Ed?” suggested both Robin and the redhead.

“Yeah, that’s the one. He always takes big handfuls of M&Ms from my bowl and dumps out all the coffee in the coffeemaker so he can make it his own way. I’ve complained about him like five times.”

The redhead snorted. “You think they put in security cameras to protect the coffeemaker and your M&Ms?”

The blonde crossed her arms. “Well, it’s a problem, isn’t it? They should fire him.”

“Maybe it’s got something to do with those security guards up on the executive floor,” said Robin. “They’ve got just tons of guns and stuff up there.”

The blonde shook her head. “Not anymore. There’s only one guy up there now. The rest of them all left yesterday.”

Allie’s ears perked up. “Where did they go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Training,” Robin said authoritatively.

The blonde frowned, a tiny line forming between her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Luis didn’t say anything to me.”

“I processed the invoices,” Robin replied. “They’re staying over at the docks in Oakland. We rented trailers, ordered catering, brought in a bunch of guys from some Korean security company.”

The redhead nodded. “Sounds like a training exercise to me.”

“But Luis would have told me,” the blonde insisted. “He tells me everything.”

Robin laughed. “Just like you tell him everything, right?”

58

M
ITCH COULDN
’
T SEE
E
D IN THE COMPLETE DARKNESS OF THE
G
RASP
II
’
S
storage compartment, but he could smell him. Mitch didn’t know how many days they’d gone without a shower or change of clothes, but it was a lot. Both of them were very nasty, but Ed’s stink had to be inhaled to be believed. Even the outhouse aroma of the 20-gallon bucket they’d been given smelled better. Mitch could even tell roughly where in the compartment Ed was by the smell. He’d heard that whales and dolphins could use their ears for “echolocation.” He could use his nose for Edolocation.

So when his nose detected a strengthening in the Ed aroma, he knew his friend was near and started breathing through his mouth. A second later, he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Ed’s voice in his ear. “You feel that? Wave action is different.”

Mitch paused and concentrated on the rhythm of the ship. “Yeah, you’re right. The engines are slower too.”

“We’re in port. You know what that means.”

“They’ll kill us?”

“Think, Mitch. If they’d wanted to kill us, wouldn’t they do it before now? It’s a lot easier to get rid of a body in the middle of the ocean, don’t you think? Just dump us overboard and say we must’ve fallen. No witnesses, no evidence. Harder to do that now.”

“So what’s going to happen now that we’re in port?”

“Not sure. But whatever it is, it’s going to happen.” He slapped something, probably the bulkhead beside them. “We’re going to get out of this place. No more waiting.”

As it turned out, they weren’t quite done waiting. More hours passed as they sat in the blackness, listening to changes in the little mechanical noises of the ship and wondering what they meant. Then came a faint but solid “thump” and the thrumming of the engines stopped completely. Mitch didn’t need to be told that they had just tied up at a dock.

Still nothing happened. He heard a faint liquid rumbling and Ed grunted. “Dinnertime.”

The word was hardly out of his mouth when the door clanged open and a wedge of bright light poured into the room. It was only the light bulb in the hall, but it blinded Mitch and he shaded his eyes and squeezed them shut. In a few seconds, the door would slam and they would feel their way to it, where they would find food and an empty latrine bucket.

But the door didn’t shut immediately. Mitch heard quick footsteps crossing the room and tried to force his eyes open. He saw a blurry figure silhouetted by blinding glare. It thrust something into his hands and spoke with Cho’s voice. “The door will be unlocked when I leave,” it said, speaking so rapidly and softly that Mitch had trouble catching the words despite the near silence. “The stairs will not be watched for the next ten minutes. The gangway is guarded, but the ladder on the stern is not. Go quickly and silently, and give this package to the FBI or CIA. It is important that they receive it soon. Very important.”

The door shut and the darkness returned, leaving Mitch’s eyes and mind dazzled by the last few seconds. His hands held something small and heavily wrapped in what felt like plastic. He shook it and felt it cautiously, trying to decide what it was.