Shelby stood under the pounding shower at the gym and let the hot water massage her muscles. Forty-five minutes on the treadmill, running at the highest incline, an hour of free weights, and half an hour in the pool. Normally her workouts weren’t so long or so intense, but she had no idea when she’d get back to the gym. She wrapped a towel around her hair and then dried off. The dressing room was empty, so she didn’t have to hide in one of the large stalls to squirm into the padded garments she was beginning to hate.
As soon as she got back to the apartment, Shelby tore off the padded clothes and stepped into shorts and a tank top. She settled on the sofa with a thick manual on computer networking and munched on a chicken Caesar salad.
Two hours later she dug into a pint of gourmet, chocolate brownie ice cream, hoping the sugar and caffeine would restart her brain. Her cell phone chirped, saving her from returning to the dry technical manual.
“What?” Shelby asked.
“We’ve got the background check back on Harrison McRae,” Ethan said.
“Shoot.”
“Nothing very interesting until a few years back. Seems he was investigated for performing experiments on patients without their full knowledge.”
“Yikes, what kind of experiments?” She closed the ice cream container and returned it to the freezer.
“Essentially, they consisted of brainwashing techniques. Dr. McRae defended his treatment saying that he was helping his patients overcome emotional blocks that were adversely affecting their lives,” Ethan’s voice sounded like he was reading from the report.
“Without their full knowledge.” Scum. The handsome doctor was pond scum.
“There’s more. He was also accused of having a personal relationship with a couple of his female patients.”
“And he seemed like such a nice guy. What happened with the allegations?”
“The cases were resolved without going to court.”
“He paid them off, then.” Super scum. Pig slime. And he was such a hunk. That grin that quirked up one corner of his mouth. Those rimless glasses. Shelby inadvertently sighed.
“Looks that way.” Ethan paused. “Is there a problem?”
“No, not at all.” It’s not like she’d ever really consider a relationship with anyone involved in a mission, regardless of which side they were on. “Just seems like the more I learn about men, the more disappointed I am.”
“We’re not all that bad,” he chided.
“That’s what you all say.”
“And we all mean it. Hopefully, you’ll be called in on an emergency network problem soon by The Center.”
“I set the virus up so that it won’t appear for a few days. Thought it’d be less suspicious that way.”
“Good idea.”
“In the meantime, can you find out where Dr. McRae hangs out?” Shelby asked. “Maybe I can get some kind of information from him.”
“I’ll check it out and let you know.”
“OK. Good night.”
Zoe Drummond parked her Kawasaki Ninja a block away from her target destination. She pulled the custom cover from the saddlebags and draped it over the bike, hiding her helmet underneath. She didn’t normally leave her helmet, but she couldn’t take it with her, and there was little chance it would be stolen in this neighborhood of mini mansions. It might take a few extra seconds to remove the cover if she needed to get away in a hurry, but that was better than someone noticing the bike, and possibly remembering the license plate. A lot of the bikers at The Bashful Bandito liked to give her a hard time about her crotch-rocket. But in her line of work, fast was good. Getting away fast was sometimes imperative.
She crossed a backyard, careful to stay out of the range of the motion sensor lights mounted to the patio roof, and easily climbed the four-foot stone wall that stood between her and the next house. Zoe hugged the stone wall as she made her way around the yard to the back door of the garage. She peered in through the small window and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the car was gone. He’d been gone last night when she’d cased the place, and it was almost too much to hope that he’d be gone again tonight. But her client had told her that he was a doctor and away from his home frequently.
Zoe inserted her lock picks into the lock and deftly opened the door. Inside, she pulled the cover off the master control box of the security system. In minutes she’d deactivated the system. Wouldn’t it be nice if the safe turned out to be as easy as the security system?
Safes and security systems were her specialty. The combination brought her jobs that paid well, so she didn’t have to do them very often. Just enough to pay her living expenses and her tuition. Six more months of school and she could leave her life of crime behind. That thought brought a feeling of anticipation mixed with fear, and she pushed it aside. This was no time to be distracted.
She slipped into the kitchen and felt a familiar rush of adrenaline. She tamped it down. Walking quickly through the kitchen, she ascended the backstairs and walked down the hall to a bedroom that had been turned into an office. The safe was in a corner behind the desk. She smiled when she saw it, familiar with the brand and the type of lock. She hadn’t opened one of these in a long time. Placing an earphone in her ear, she kneeled in front of the safe and pressed a small disc against the door, next to the lock. When the lock clicked and the door swung open, she checked her watch. Four minutes and twenty-eight seconds. She was slipping. It usually took less than three minutes.
The safe held several envelopes, a couple of file folders, and two jewelry boxes. Zoe quickly opened the envelopes and went through the contents. The third one held photographs and a smaller envelope of negatives. She flicked on her flashlight and glanced through the photographs. The woman who had hired her was in most of them. And in several very compromising positions. Zoe shrugged and slipped the photos and negatives back into the envelope. She only had to be sure she had the right photos and negatives. She stuffed all the envelopes and folders inside her jacket and grabbed the jewelry boxes.
This job had an added advantage. Her client wanted this to appear to be a random burglary, so Zoe would take everything in the safe and a few items from the bedroom. Anything she got, she was free to keep. Zoe quickly flipped open the jewelry boxes. A Rolex watch, and a platinum and diamond ring. She stuffed the boxes into the pocket of her leather jacket and closed the door to the safe.
She then walked into the master bedroom. The top dresser drawer yielded a set of ruby studs with matching cuff links. She dropped them into a pocket and considered what else she could take.
Suddenly, pain exploded through her head, and she crumpled to the floor.
Friday morning Shelby still hadn’t gotten a call from the people at The Center about their computer problems. She knew the virus had started worming its way through their system on Wednesday, just as she’d planned. She checked the tapes from the listening device she’d planted at the receptionist’s desk several times each day. The first problems had been talked about on Wednesday, and yesterday Dr. Carlson had complained to Mandy about it more. Were they going to wait until the damn virus had eaten everything on their computers?
Shelby also hadn’t managed to run into Dr. McRae. Evidently, all he did was go to work and go home. He didn ’t hang out at bars and wasn’t involved in any kind of sport. Hell, the man hardly even shopped for food.
Shelby opened the aluminum case, rewound the tape, and punched the fast button so she could listen to everything speeded up but still recognizable. After an hour of noise and meaningless conversations, she heard Dr. Carlson’s voice and pressed the button to slow the tape down to regular speed. Dr. Carlson instructed Mandy to call a company called InfoTech Professionals, and Shelby groaned. Now she’d have to change her plans. She listened to Mandy’s call to InfoTech Professionals. They assured her they would have someone out there that afternoon and that they’d work over the weekend if necessary to fix the problem. Shelby punched the speed dial number for Ethan into her cell phone.
“The Center is calling in a firm called InfoTech Professionals.
“How long do we have?
“They said they’d be out there this afternoon.”
“OK. I’ll have Josh there in two hours.”
“No, I don’t need Josh. I’ll handle it myself.”
“Shelby, it’ll be easier with Josh there.”
“I said I don’t need him. Just have him email me the FTP program.”
Ethan sighed. “I’d be happier if Josh assisted you on this.”
“And I’ll be happier if I’m doing it myself.”
“I’ll send him down, just in case.” Ethan hurried on before she could interrupt. “You don’t have to use him, but he’ll be there if you need him.”
“Fine.” Shelby knew when to let Ethan think he’d gotten his way. Josh could just cool his heels while she got into The Center and then go back to Denver. “Tell Josh I’ll meet him at InfoTech’s offices.”
“Shelby Parker, FSA.” She flashed her badge and identification to the young woman. “I need to see the owner.”
“Do you have an appointment, Ms. Parker?”
“I don’t need one. This is official FSA business.”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Knowles is booked up today. Perhaps if you left your card, I could have him call you?”
“I don’t think so. As I said, this is official FSA business.”
“Is that Futuristic Software Associates?” the receptionist asked hesitantly.
“It’s the Federal Security Agency. Like the Central Intelligence Agency or the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
Realization slowly dawned on the woman’s face. “Oh, I see. Just a moment.” She picked up the phone and punched an intercom button. “Mr. Knowles, there’s a Ms. Parker from the FSA here to see you.” She listened intently, then turned away and lowered her voice. “No, it’s the Federal Security Agency.” Her head bobbed up and down. “Yes, like that.”
“Thank you.” Shelby smiled at her and waited. Thirty seconds later she heard footsteps. Evidently, she could still count intimidation as one of her strong points.
“I’m Dan Knowles. Can I help you?”
Shelby turned back from her perusal of the aquarium. Early fifties, a little pudgy from sitting behind a desk for too many years, short hair, stylish clothes, and those tiny glasses that were the current fashion statement for the visually impaired.
“Can we talk in your office?”
“Certainly.” Dan led her down a wide hallway to a large office. He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. “Susan said you’re with the FSA?”
“Yes. Are you familiar with the FSA?”
“Oh, yes. I was quite the radical in college. I’m familiar with all the federal investigative agencies. May I see your ID?”
Liar-head. From his conversation with the receptionist, Shelby knew he’d thought she was with the Futuristic Software guys. She handed over the leather wallet that held her badge and identification.
“You know this could easily be duplicated.”
“Actually, it can’t. But someone could easily make a copy that looks like the real thing.”
“I think I’ll need more than this,” Dan said.
“I’m not surprised. Here’s a number you can call to confirm my identity. And you can call the local FBI office or your local police to confirm that the number is a valid one.”
“And I suppose you have the number for the local FBI office too?”
Shelby grinned at him. “Of course, but I think it might be better if you look it up yourself. I wouldn’t want you thinking that this is a ruse or anything.”
Dan turned to the laptop on his desk. He clicked the mouse, typed in a few commands, and opened the home page for the FBI. He picked up his phone and punched in the number for the headquarters in Washington, DC.
Shelby looked around his office while he spoke to someone for a few minutes. InfoTech Professionals was obviously doing well. His walls boasted some original artwork, and his furniture was a tasteful rosewood. She heard his phone click and more buttons being punched. He spoke to someone again, mentioning her name. After a moment he replaced the phone.
“So, exactly how can I help you, Ms. Parker?”
“You were contacted early this morning by The Center for Bio-Psychological Research. They have computer problems, and you assured them you would have a team there this afternoon.”
“Yes. I have one of my lead techs assembling a team now.”
“Stop him. You won’t be sending anyone out to The Center.”
“I won’t?” Dan raised his eyebrows, but didn’t seem to be resistant to her instructions.
“No. I’m expecting an associate, Josh Dalton, here within an hour. He’ll wait here while I go to The Center as one of your techs. If I need Josh, I’ll call and you’ll send him out. Your job will be to answer any phone calls from The Center and assure them that I am indeed from your office and highly qualified to take care of their problem.”
“Can I ask what this is about?” Dan asked.
“Yes, but you won’t get an answer.” Shelby grinned again, pleased that he wasn’t going to fight her on this.
“I’m not surprised.” Dan sighed. “You’ll need to have an InfoTech identification badge and a shirt with our logo. All our techs wear them.” Dan turned his palms up. “Anything else?”
An hour later, Shelby was enjoying some gourmet coffee in Dan’s office when his intercom buzzed.
“Mr. Knowles, there’s a Josh Dalton here to see you.” Dan’s receptionist sounded a little breathless.
“Send him back, Susan.”
“Hey, Josh.” Shelby gave him a finger wave from the sofa. “Sorry to drag you out here.”
“Hey, no problem. Getting out of the office occasionally is good for me.”
“Dan Knowles.” Dan stood and held out his hand.
“Can I get you some coffee or anything?” Susan lingered at the door, obviously awed by Josh.
“Thanks, that would be great. Just black.” Josh flashed her a smile.
Shelby shook her head. His smile was so guileless and charming, it should be classified as a weapon. Josh Dalton was an impressive piece of masculinity. Most men were intimidated by him at first, and most women were attracted. He stood about six four and had the kind of muscular build that came from good genes and some serious gym time. His blond hair was thick and wavy, and his blue eyes sparkled with humor and intelligence. A square jaw and quick smile completed the package. As if his looks weren’t enough, Shelby knew Josh boasted an IQ in the genius range.
Josh set his thick laptop case on Dan’s desk and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“So, you’re one of the FSA’s computer guys?” Dan asked.
“That’s me,” Josh agreed.
“Man, would I love to see what you’ve got in that case.” Dan made a forlorn sound that was halfway between a sigh and a chuckle.
“You boys get acquainted while I change in the ladies’ room.” Shelby suggested.
The men headed down the hallway, and Shelby made for the ladies’ room with her backpack. Ten minutes later she was looking in the mirror at Cathy Silvers. Plump, plain faced, with dull, curly, brown hair, and now wearing an InfoTech Professionals shirt. She closed the backpack and joined Josh and Dan in Dan’s office.
“And check this out,” Josh said tapping on the keys of his laptop and then leaning back to allow Dan a better view of the screen.
“No way!” Dan’s eyes were wide.
“Way! And this can—”
“You aren’t showing Dan our agency secrets are you?” Shelby asked.
“Not the important ones.” Josh grinned.
“Wow!” Dan looked at Shelby, his mouth gaping. “You don’t even look like yourself!”
“Yeah, she’s good at that,” Josh grinned. “You should see this one get-up she has. Looks for all the world like a senior citizen. Frumpy clothes, gray hair, that shuffling walk that older people have.” Josh shook his head. “You’d never know.”
“I’m impressed.” Dan nodded.
“Hey, don’t I need an InfoTech shirt too?” Josh asked.
“Not this time, Josh. You’re staying here. I’ll call if I need you.”
Josh sighed. “Ethan said I was going in with you.”
“Ethan lied.”
“I know.” Josh held his hands up. “Your op, your way. Still, I could be useful.”
“And if I need you, I’ll call. In the meantime, you and Dan can tech-talk to each other.”
“This is because of that first op, isn’t it?”
Shelby smiled at him. “Leaving your equipment behind was a bad thing.”
“It was only that one time. And it was my first op.”
“I know. It isn’t that, Josh. This is just how I work.”
Josh sighed and sat down again. “I never get to have any fun.”
“You know what to say if anyone from The Center calls?” she asked Dan.
“No problem. I didn’t get to where I am today without being able to tell a little white lie occasionally.” Dan winked and handed her the keys to one of the company vans.
“Hi, Mandy.”
The Center’s receptionist turned to greet Shelby. “Oh, Cathy, hi. What can I do for you?”
“I’m here from InfoTech Professionals to fix your virus problem.”
“Hey, you got a job? That’s great.”
“Yep. Just temporary, but it pays good.” Shelby shrugged.
Mandy lifted the phone and pressed the intercom button. “Dr. Carlson, the tech from InfoTech Professionals is here.” She replaced the phone and looked back at Shelby. “She’ll be right here.”
“So, it seems like you guys got that mole virus,” Shelby ventured.
“I don’t know what you call it, but it’s eaten up a lot of files. They’re just gone!”
“Sounds like the mole virus, all right,” she said. “Good thing is that we can fix that and get back all your files. It’s tedious, but not difficult.”
“Dr. Carlson will be happy to hear that.”
“Happy to hear what, Mandy?”
Mandy jumped a little in her seat. “Oh, Dr. Carlson. Cathy’s here from InfoTech Professionals.” Mandy busied herself with stacking some papers as Dr. Carlson stared at Shelby.
“Hi, Dr. Carlson.” Shelby held out her hand, hoping to end the awkward moment. “I just got hired by InfoTech Professionals. Is that weird or what?” She pumped Dr. Carlson’s hand.
“Isn’t it.” Dr. Carlson pulled her hand away from Shelby’s.
“Perhaps you could give me a little background on your problem,” Shelby suggested.
“Certainly.” Dr. Carlson turned and walked down the hallway. “The only problem we’ve noticed so far is that files just seem to be missing. I’m assuming that’s one of the effects of this mole virus.”
“That certainly sounds like the mole virus. Not to worry, though. I can not only get rid of the virus, but probably restore most of your files as well.”
“That would be much appreciated. How long will it take?”
“No way to tell until we get started.” Shelby shrugged. “It depends on how much damage the virus has done.”
“Fine. Where do you want to start?”
“I’ll start in the computer room. I’ll need the administrative passwords for your servers, if you have them. Otherwise, I’ll have to reset some of the controls. Might take a while.”
“I thought as much.” Dr. Carlson handed her a file folder. “Unless Ted changed the passwords recently, they should all be in there.”
“Are there passwords on the desktops?”
“No.” Dr. Carlson shook her head. “Except for mine and Dr. Thomas’. Our computers contain very sensitive information about our clients. I’m afraid it isn’t possible for you to view anything on our computers.”
“So, your computers aren’t connected to the network?” Shelby asked.
“Well, of course they are. But we keep the sensitive files on our hard drives.”
“Not for long. That mole virus will eat them up.”
“What?” Dr. Carlson looked startled. “But there’s been no indication that the virus has affected our computers.”
“Not yet. But trust me, this mole virus is a nasty little bugger. If you’ve been connected to the network since the virus arrived, it’s just a matter of time before your sensitive files disappear.”
“Dear God.” Dr. Carlson pulled the inhaler from her pocket and gave herself a shot in the mouth. Shelby took a perverse pleasure at seeing her composure crack a bit.
“It’s not like I need to view any of the files in order to eradicate the virus, Dr. Carlson. Someone can be present while I work, if you’re worried about anything.”
“I see. I suppose that would be acceptable. Although Dr. Thomas and I are both very busy. I suppose I could have one of the guards stay with you while you work on our computers.”
“Excellent. I’ll start on the servers, and when the guard is ready, I’ll clean up your computers.”
The first time she’d been there, she had only seen the very front of the building that held the reception area and several offices. Dr. Carlson led her down a hallway, passing a set of double doors with windows that opened into what appeared to be a lab area. The computer room was at the end of the hallway.
Shelby worked on the servers for almost an hour before Dr. Carlson returned with a guard in tow. She followed them back to Dr. Carlson’s office and sat down in front of the computer. Shelby pressed the space bar and waited as the screen glowed to life.
“Hey, Dr. Carlson, it’s asking for a thumbprint. What’s up with that?”
“I have to log on using my thumbprint for identification. It’s a security measure.” Dr. Carlson pressed her thumb against the glass front of a small box on her desk. A light flashed from behind the glass, and the laptop whirred and clicked.
“Wow, that’s like real James Bond stuff.”
Dr. Carlson ignored her. “When you’re finished here, I’ll log on to Dr. Thomas’ computer for you.” She gave the guard a meaningful look, which Shelby was pretty sure meant for him to watch her like a hawk.
Shelby fished the diskette from the pocket on her backpack and slid it into the slot. The guard stood so close, she could smell the garlic he’d had at lunch.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s the software to detect and clean the virus. See?” She ejected the diskette and held it up so he could see the label. Like that had anything to do with what was on the diskette. He nodded, and she slid the diskette into the slot again. Shelby started a standard virus scan, just so something would be on the screen to distract the guard. Working quickly, she clicked on the buttons that would install the File Transfer Protocol Service Josh had programmed and clean up the virus she’d installed earlier that week. The guard seemed mesmerized by the virus scan program and didn’t mention anything else she was doing. Josh’s program took only a few seconds to upload, but she let the virus scan run through all the files.
“That’s it. This machine is clean.”
“Dr. Carlson will be happy to hear that.”
Less than an hour later, Shelby assured Dr. Carlson that even though the mole virus had been present on both their laptops, she’d been able to eradicate it and they hadn’t lost any files. Dr. Carlson rewarded her hard work with a tight smile.
“Have you finished with the servers?”
“I’ve installed a program that will search and clean all the files. It’ll take a while to complete,” Shelby said.
“I see.” Dr. Carlson frowned, and Shelby could imagine how uncomfortable she was having someone poke around in her computer files.
“It’ll probably take ten or twelve hours for the program to complete, but it beats having to do each one individually. That would take several days. How many other computers do you have?”
“About a dozen. Although some of them are in the laboratory and clinic area. We don’t normally allow anyone back there.”
Shelby shrugged. “If they haven’t been on the network, it’s not a problem. I can start on the ones out here.”
“The receptionist is still working, so perhaps you can check Dr. McRae’s computer. He’s already left for the day.”
After Dr. Carlson let her in to Dr. McRae’s office, she settled behind his desk, pulled out the diskette, and started the program. That seemed to satisfy the doctor, and she departed without a word. Shelby smiled at her as she left. The woman could seriously use some social skills. At least she hadn’t assigned one of the guards to watch her every move here.
Shelby looked around Dr. McRae’s office. She’d need to be here for a while, just to make it appear that she was actually checking his computer for the virus. Might as well take a peek in his drawers. That thought brought up a visual that Shelby firmly pushed to the nether recesses of her mind.
She pulled open a drawer and scanned the file labels. Most of them were names, Cathy Silvers among them. Patient files, she supposed. Shelby pulled one out and glanced through it. Nothing of any interest, except some notations about levels of psychic ability. The next few were pretty much the same. A variety of both men and women, ages from teens to forties. The only thing common to all the files was the notation on their psychic abilities.
There were no files with either Shannon’s or Sam’s names. That in itself seemed strange. As the staff psychiatrist, Shelby figured he’d have some contact with every client at The Center. And according to the intel Ethan had given her, Shannon had brought Sam here at least a few times.
She replaced the files in the drawer, her hand lingering on the Cathy Silvers file, curious what the doctor had written about her. This seemed like a perfect opportunity to find out.
“Looking for something, Ms. Silvers?” Dr. McRae asked.