I’m up and out of the chair, crossing the room, as soon as the door closes. I’m scared, no bullshit about it, but I’m following Marshal’s simple instructions. I find a USB port on Halberstam’s computer, take a flash drive from Serena’s oversized purse, then plug the flash drive into the open port and move to the keyboard. Halberstam’s computer has a Windows operating system, and I’m easily able to access the device manager on the control panel, isolate my flash drive and order it to open a program. The download takes less than ten seconds.
I’m back in my seat and trying to relax while Serena demands the return of our body. Nothing to worry about there. I’ll be off as soon as Halberstam returns. Satisfied, really fucking satisfied. That’s because tonight, at 3:00 a.m., Halberstam’s computer will copy its files into one of Marshal’s computers. Everything.
I tune Serena out, Victoria, too. Victoria’s really pissed at me because I paid for the malware with money from the family till. Tough shit because we can’t wait until we’re committed, until the locked doors on our locked ward close behind us. That’s for suckers and we’ve been suckers long enough. We need to get out ahead of this prick, to put him in a box.
Halberstam’s taking his time and my thoughts finally turn to Hank Grand, a man with even less conscience than Halberstam. They should have killed him; even Serena agrees. Instead, New York incarcerated him at the cost of $60,000 per year and now he’ll be walking the streets. Five years of therapy? Plenty of time to get it right, to practice delivering the words asshole therapists want to hear. We know this because we’ve done it ourselves, learned to mouth the words this or that doctor found comforting.
Yeah, we can let this one go. She’s safe.