Stolen Secrets

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Ryan Duvall could take down a man armed with a knife, but he couldn't stand a woman armed with a tongue. To avoid the tongue seated next to him, he had stood up for most of the four-hour flight from Anchorage to Seattle. The crew didn’t mind— he always flew as an armed air marshal, supplementing their regular men.

The seatbelt light forced him to sit down.

“Hello again,” the woman said. “Are you in television? You remind me of that good-looking actor I saw in ‘Morgan’s Bluff.’” She leaned closer, secure in her beauty, while her make-up, her clothes, her perfume— everything about her turned him off.

“No, that wasn’t me.” Ryan said, considering how to shut her up. He had once been engaged to a stunningly beautiful woman who had left him as soon as she had gone through his ready cash.

Usually he brought a newspaper to gain privacy, although it probably wouldn’t have stopped this woman.

“I’ve got friends in television. Do you know...”

Beyond her he could see the white snow hurtling past the window. Ryan pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed his office. That stopped her, and he smiled with satisfaction.

After two rings a female voice answered. “Sunderstrom and Duvall Security Systems. How may I direct your call?”

“Patti Jean. Scott there?”

“Yes. His meeting just broke up.” Ryan could hear the ring as she transferred him to Scott’s office.

“Scott Sunderstrom.”

Ryan settled back in relief. “We’ve a tail wind. Coming in early.”

“Good. It’s snowing hard here. Did they announce it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a huge mess. They forecast rain today so no one was prepared. You know how Seattle is.”

Ryan did. Seattle’s steep hills— combined with slick wet snow— produced fender-benders and cars in ditches.

“How was Anchorage when you left?” Scott asked.

“Raining.”

“Weird. We don’t ever get snow before Thanksgiving. Not that I can remember, that is. And this is coming down in huge flakes. If it keeps up, we’ll have two or three feet by morning. The temperature’s dropping fast. Metro’s a mess. I’ll meet you at the Sound Transit station. Wait for me.”

“Did they return my car to the office?”

“Yes, it’s here, ready to go. They couldn’t recharge the battery, it was totally dead. The mechanic installed a new one.”

“Bring all my CDs, just in case we can’t get back there.”

The woman continued to stare at Ryan and he held the phone higher and turned his head. With a snort she ignored the seatbelt light and stood up, forcing her way past his knees and out to the aisle.

Ryan smiled, happy to see her go.

“What happened at the oil company?” Scott asked.

“Whoever broke in got past my system and into MXOIL. They weren’t too happy.”

“Oh.”

“I took their installation CD with me, so I fixed the damaged files and changed some passwords. But I’ve got to update all their systems to plug the hole he found.”

“I’ll leave now. See you.”

“Okay.” Ryan hung up. Immediately the woman appeared, working her way back into her seat.

“Are you in the music business? I heard you talking about your CDs.” The woman leaned forward, her hand on his arm, her long fingernails painted a dark red. He stared at them, irritated.

“No.”

“The movies, then?”

“No.”

“I bet you’re a producer. You know, I’ve been a model...”

* * *

Scott slowed the car as he turned into the lot next to their offices. “I’m sorry,” he apologized once more, as he parked at the front. “I laid your CDs on my desk while I put on my coat. I can’t believe I forgot them. I know how valuable they are.”

“It’s been less than an hour. They should be okay.” Ryan got out of the car and turned to retrieve his carry-on bag in the back seat. He glanced up at their office suite on the second floor. A light shone in Patti’s room. A shadow passed across it, then back again.

He stood up straight, bag forgotten. All those companies— they depended on him to keep them safe. “Someone’s there! Patti?”

“Can’t be. She’d have left long ago.” His partner jumped out and slammed his door.

The light went out.

Ryan bolted up the steps and into the office building, Scott— slower— falling behind him. The main door was still unlocked. The security system— on a timer— hadn’t switched on.

Ryan pointed towards the opening doors of the elevator as he took the stairs. He came out to an empty hallway. Running over to Scott’s door, he touched the knob. It turned beneath his hand.

As the door opened, Ryan kicked it hard, knocking the person on the other side to the floor. He switched on the light as he stepped into the room, ready to fight.

A young woman lay at his feet, white-faced, her hand to her head. Young, slim, wearing a white blouse, blue raincoat, and a gray skirt. Barefoot. Her shoes, a paper shopping bag, and her purse lay scattered on the floor next to her. One ankle looked swollen three times the size of the other.

He knew her! He recognized last summer’s lovely young temp even with her hair cropped short. Angie. Angie Reid. He had been attracted to her, but hesitant to say anything.

What was she doing in Scott’s office?

He glanced at Scott’s desk. It was bare except for the pencil holder and desk phone. A heavy weight knocked the breath out of Ryan. Surely she hadn’t taken his CDs! He picked up her shopping bag and felt inside. Not there. Her purse? It was hardly big enough, but he opened it and glanced inside. None there.

Scott barged in and stopped to stare at Angie. "Who’re you?” he shouted. “What’re you doing here?” He reached down and hauled her to her feet.

She cried out, a high-pitched gasp, and he gave her a shake. “Come on, speak up!”

Worried Scott would hurt her, Ryan yanked one of the big man's hands away. “Easy.”

Scott glared at him, but released her with a shove— and she half-flew across the room to land on Scott’s white fake-fur area rug. With dove-gray eyes huge in her ashen face, Angie looked at his partner and then at him, a tiny bird in a furry nest. An injured bird, unable to fly, blinking back tears.

Her tears smashed into Ryan— as if he himself were injured. He wanted to gather her up, soothe her hurt. There was no doubting her injury, but were they tears of distress? Or turned on for their benefit?

The Angie who had worked for them had seemed so invincible, so untouched by any problems. She had left a day early, before her week was up, without notifying them. He thought she had found a better job, but now realized she could’ve been using her temp position to case the office.

Patti had brought Angie in to help with a mailing. Scott had been out most of that time, setting up the physical security for a customer’s plant in Tacoma. That was his expertise.

Ryan walked over and knelt beside her.

“What happened?" Taking her foot in his hand, he examined her swollen ankle, gently exploring the hot, discolored mass. It needed treatment— ice, compression, elevation.

“I fell down, outside on the sidewalk.” Her voice was low, just above a whisper, its softness like music to him.

“You're the one I knocked over.” Scott scowled at her, then at Ryan. “I ran into her when I was hurrying to get you.”

“
With your car?
”

“No,” the taller man scoffed. “Afoot. She didn’t watch where she was going." He glared at her.

“You didn’t either.” Her voice grew stronger. “Another man had just passed me, running like his tail was on fire, and I looked back to see— ”

“You said you were okay!” Scott interrupted, his voice accusing.

“My ankle didn't hurt until I tried to walk on it. When I missed my bus, I came in to call home. My cell is dead— ”

“Was Patti here?”

“Yes. I heard her— ”

“She must've put those CDs away.” Scott strode towards his wall safe. Ryan stood up, relieved.

“No. She didn't,” Angie said.

The weight slammed into Ryan once more, but this time confusion accompanied it.
What was going on
?

Scott spun around with a growl. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t look at him. She spoke directly to Ryan. “They were your CDs, weren't they?” she asked.

He nodded, barely able to breathe.

“They’re still here. I hid them in Patti's room.”

Had she now? Why?
The weight lifted.

“You see, I heard Patti on the phone, telling someone that the CDs were on Mr. Sunderstrom’s desk— ”

“What?” Scott interrupted. Ryan had never seen him so agitated.

“You just missed the thieves— or at least the guys who tried to steal them. They left a few minutes before you came. You probably passed them in the elevator.”

"You're crazy,” Scott said. “Patti wouldn’t— What really happened here?” Scott charged across his office, aggressive and threatening, but this time Ryan stood between him and Angie. He intended to stay there.

Scott towered over him and must’ve looked huge to the diminutive Angie. Her eyes widened in fear. Her short haircut allowed her ears to show and this— along with eyes set just a little bit too far apart— gave her freckled face the appearance of a small woodland creature, out of its element, "lost" in the bewildering city. She looked to be no threat to them, not this wisp of a girl.

"Let her talk," Ryan said, standing at ease. The man would soon cool down. He knew Scott well. The two of them climbed mountains together, as well as being business partners.

Angie sent Ryan a look of gratitude while her fingers worked up and down her swollen ankle. "From what Patti said, it sounded like someone planned to steal them."

Ryan nodded, never entirely comfortable with Patti’s honesty or lack thereof. With her mismatched outfits and constant chattering, Patti gave the impression of being immature, but her work reflected an efficient mind. Scott trusted her— had hired her.

“Patti left after making some more calls. I hid under the desk until she had gone. But she didn’t lock the door, and I barely had time to switch the CDs. Two men came in and took the blanks— "

"Blanks?" Sunderstrom shook his head and began to pace around the room.

Angie pointed toward Patti’s room, next to Scott’s. “I put the real ones under the stack of empties on Patti's filing cabinet.” She spoke faster. “I planned to call you to say where they were.”

Ryan strode through the connecting door into Patti’s room and glanced around.

He stepped over to Patti’s desk and slid open the drawer where he knew the secretary kept her petty cash. It lay there, a small but tempting pile of change, untouched. He smiled. His assessment of their little gray bird had proven correct.

He lifted the stack of CDs on the filing cabinet and found his at the bottom. All there, he decided as he flipped through them, still arranged numerically in pairs.

Wait a minute. He looked again. One missing.

The most valuable of all— the system CD for MXOIL.