Sweet Caroline (3 page)

Sweet Caroline

by Micqui Miller

here and there, but none had jogged even a distant memory. Why such a strong reaction now?

"It was a sad day that I discovered the thefts," he was saying and Caroline realized she had not been listening. He stopped. "Are you sure I can't get you something a little stronger?" He pointed to her coffee cup. "You seem, ah ... a bit distracted."

Caroline felt heat crawl up her neck. "No, no, I'm fine. I'm

... I'm not a good flyer."

He held up a hand. "Say no more, I understand." He grinned, all teeth and dimples. "I fly only if I must. One of the perks of being the boss—I send others to do the jobs I despise."

What an odd thing to say.
Gentle smile, soft voice, big stick. "You were saying..."

"As I told you in our phone interview, I've suspected for more than a year that someone is tampering with my system. I have an idea who, but I'd rather not say at this time." She remembered Foy saying as much in his initial call to her employer, and repeating it time and again in subsequent conference calls.

"It has to be computer theft. We've put so many check points in our inventory controls, it couldn't be a physical act." Long ago Caroline learned not to correct her clients. They wanted to think of cyber crime as something way out there, untouched by human hands. She knew nothing was farther from the truth.

"Unfortunately, the only ones with access to the system are people I've known most of their lives, neighbors, my 21

Sweet Caroline

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friends' children. Honest, hard-working individuals. That's why I wanted an unbiased third party to take a look." How many times before had Caroline heard those exact words? People expected criminals to come equipped with horns and a tail. No horns, no tail, no crime. It wasn't like that, particularly with cyber crime. With a computer and a modem, anyone from your maiden aunt to your ten-year-old nephew could commit the most heinous crimes while they looked you in the eyes or kissed you on the cheek.

"Mr. Foy, you've seen my résumé. Uncovering the truth is my specialty. If someone is defrauding you, or spying on you and causing your company to lose money, I
will
identify him. My final report may not say what you want to hear, but it will be one hundred percent accurate and will stand up in court if you decide to press charges."

He shifted in his seat then rubbed his Adam's apple, which bobbed above the open neck of his sports shirt. "What if you don't find anything sinister? That's possible, isn't it?"

"That's what we always hope for. If it's a glitch in your system, I'll find that, too, and correct it." Caroline always loved this part. She saw it in his face, read it in his eyes, knew that he was asking himself,
Is she really that good or is
she just pouring it on?

Foy stretched his arms in front of him, laced his fingers, and leaned forward on his desk. "You're a very self-assured young woman."

"No, Mr. Foy, I'm very good at what I do. I won't take on a project unless I immerse myself in it. You will have my full attention. Your needs are my needs, your welfare is my 22

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welfare. If I fail you, I fail myself. I won't allow that to happen."

At a knock on his door, he called out, "Enter." A woman wearing an apron wheeled in a cart and set the table in the far corner of the room, the perfect spot for casual conversation. Or, as in this case, casual dining. A few minutes later, the caterer left and Foy said, "Shall we?" The food looked exquisite. Crab Louie, a generous basket of warm sourdough bread, iced tea or if she preferred, a chilled estate Chardonnay. Warm Brie and fresh fruit rounded off the meal.

Caroline nibbled only enough to avoid offending her host. She didn't enjoy dining with clients or wasting perfectly good working time on mindless chit-chat. At the first opening, she forced the conversation back to business. "I'll need unlimited access to your network." She squeezed juice from a lemon wedge into her tea.

Foy bit into buttered bread. "Done."

"What's my cover? Who am I supposed to be?" He dusted crumbs off his fingertips and sat back in his chair. "Communications specialist. That's fairly innocuous." That worked for her. She opened the leather binder she'd carried to the table. It contained a small lined tablet and automatic pencil. "Please go on."

"ZyQyx has seventy-three employees on site." Foy closed his eyes, as if mentally taking a head count. "And thirty or so up in Eureka."

"Thirty or so? You don't know the exact number?" 23

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Another toothy grin. "You're obviously not from this area or you'd understand. I employ day laborers up there. Every time the DEA walks into the woods, I lose half my staff."

"I see." She made a notation:
possible drug connection.

"That office is networked with headquarters I presume?" He swirled sugar into his tea. "All of my offices are linked."

"The others are where?"

"One in Santa Rosa, north of here. One in Novato, south."

"This is your largest office?"

"Right. The others have less than ten employees each."

"That makes it easier."

Gerard knocked, entered and cleared away the food. After he'd closed the door behind him, Caroline said to Foy, "I assume you trust Gerard?"

"He's a good man."

She took a sip of tea. "Does he know why I'm here?"

"Not really."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I'm thinking about opening an office in Canada. You're here to test the viability of an international connection."

"And that means what?"

His blue eyes twinkled. "I left that for you to define." Caroline shifted to a more comfortable position. She loved the challenge of these assignments. They tested her mind, her imagination, stretched her in so many ways. Best of all, they gave her a chance to right a wrong. "Let's allow your staff to fill in the blanks."

"Whatever you think best."

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"Tell me about your I.S. team."

They'd covered the Information Systems Department in several phone calls, but she wanted to hear it again since she'd soon be putting faces to names.

"Twenty altogether. One in each branch, the rest here at Corporate."

"That's quite a ratio of network support to employee. About one to four."

"The network is our life's blood," Foy said. "We can't afford to have even one station down for more than a few seconds."

"What about your programmers and systems analysts?"

"Five programmers, three analysts."

"That makes twenty-eight, not twenty, who have free access to your system?"

His forehead creased as he frowned. "We use some outside folks, too. Hardware technicians, our website designers and their staff."

"If any one of these people wanted to, they could stroll in here, and right in front of everyone, sabotage your network and no one would be the wiser."

Foy took a deep breath, as if this was the first time he'd even thought of that possibility. "We use a lot of temps, too." He exhaled. "Damn!"

"When do you want me to start?"

"How about last week?"

"How about after I freshen up?"

"Great. Where do you want to start?"

"Where else? In I.S."

* * * *

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THE NEXT THREE hours zoomed by like ten minutes. Everyone she met appeared more than willing to help, and some were blatant enough to let her know they'd love to be reassigned to Vancouver, British Columbia, the rumored new office. They all appeared to get along, with no discernible tensions or petty jealousies.

Foy joked with them while he walked her from cube to cube. They threw barbs and jibes right back at him. At first glance, ZyQyx looked like the perfect place to work, but in Caroline's years as a programmer, software designer and engineer, and forensic investigator, she'd found no perfect place, and nothing was ever as it appeared at first glow. Caroline didn't realize how quickly time had flown until Foy knocked on the door to the corner office he assigned her, directly below his on the third floor.

"It's after five, Caroline. You must be tired from your trip." She flexed her shoulders aware she was very tired indeed. Foy sat down in a chair beside her desk and dropped a manila folder in front of her. "We haven't talked about where you'll be staying."

Inside the folder, she found a few brochures, a couple of photos, and some sheets printed off the Web.

"We keep apartments in all of these places. This one, the Marina," he pointed to a glossy photograph of a huge complex with several pools, tennis courts, and hiking trails, "is about four miles north. Mostly singles. You wouldn't be lonely. Several of our employees live there."

"I'm here to work, Mr. Foy, not to party." 26

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"Ian," he corrected. "I appreciate your diligence, but you needn't cloister yourself."

She picked up a glossy brochure. "What about this one?"

"Marin Heights? It's a condo complex about ten miles south, and its home to a lot of ZyQyx families." Caroline rubbed her eyes. "What about someplace where none of your staff lives?"

That question seemed to take him aback. "Why? Don't you like the people you met today?"

"On the contrary, I liked them very much. Unfortunately, I'm not really here to conduct a Canadian feasibility study." Foy pursed his lips. "I suppose you think I'm in heavy denial?"

She smiled, but said nothing.

"Watching you interact with my staff today, everything looked so natural. You're right, of course. You can't afford to have a suspect pop over to borrow a cup of sugar while his dossier dances on your screen."

Caroline smiled at that, too. "Let's not to leap to the term suspect just yet. However, privacy and confidentiality are key."

He rubbed the light stubble on his cheeks then ran both hands through the sides of his longish hair. "I keep a flat in a town northwest of here, about 10 miles." Her breath caught. Ten miles northwest—the same direction and about the same distance as the place she'd hope to scour—Sebastopol. "That would work," she answered, keeping her tone neutral. At his frown, she asked, "What's wrong?"

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"Nothing's wrong. It's in Sebastopol."
Yes!

"I'm sure you've never heard of it, a little hole-in-the-wall of a city. Not much action."

She took a sip of tepid coffee. "I'm a home body. 'Not much action' sounds perfect."

"There're a couple of other problems."

"Like?"

"It's one of two flats above offices, right in the heart of town—on the main drag, which becomes the Gravenstine Highway farther west. A lot of noisy traffic." Caroline shrugged off the objection. "What else?"

"There's a restaurant and bar next door."

"Not a heavy metal club?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Maybe a little karaoke at worst."

"I can deal with that. What else?"

"We lease the apartment from the owner. He lives in the flat across the hall and uses the office space downstairs."

"So?"

Foy paused, looking as if he were struggling with what he had to say next. "I've known him almost all of his life. His brother works for me, and several of his cousins." Caroline said nothing but waited, sensing another shoe about to drop.

"His name is Michael Mahoney."

Mahoney! The Mahoneys of Sebastopol!

"Brian Mahoney is his brother."

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She mentally ran through the names and faces of the staff she'd met today. Surely she would have remembered a Mahoney. "Did I meet him this afternoon?"

"He was out on assignment."

"Okay," she said slowly. "Why is he a problem?"

"Because, my dear Caroline, I believe Brian Mahoney is our thief."

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Sweet Caroline

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AT HALF PAST six Ian Foy walked Caroline to her car. The parking lot stood empty except for two vans owned by the janitorial service whose staff swarmed ZyQyx Headquarters like killer bees.

"You're sure you don't want me to lead the way to Sebastopol?" Foy carried the two file cases Caroline planned to wade through before reporting for work in the morning.

"I have these." She waved the handful of maps she carried.

"I'm furious with Michael Mahoney. What errand is so important he couldn't wait a few minutes to give you your key?" He wore a sour expression. "That's one of the problems with the entire Mahoney Clan—they insist the world revolves around them."

Caroline only half-listened. Foy had been damning Mahoneys for the last hour, since his phone call to her landlord. "Ian, please, I'll be fine." She inserted the key in the trunk lock. She was growing weary of his parental concern as well.

"You're sure?"

"I've found my way around cities all over the world. Sebastopol can't be any more challenging than Tokyo." She saw his expression soften.

"Besides, I'm sure Mr. Mahoney is back from his errand and waiting for me right now."

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"Don't count on it." He stared off into the distance, squinting. "You'll see what I'm talking about when you meet them. They're a tiresome bunch."

Then why did you hire Brian Mahoney and his cousins?
She wanted to ask him the question, but sensed it would exacerbate his annoyance with Michael Mahoney. "You said there's a restaurant next door to his office. If he's not in, I'll leave my card and have dinner while I wait."

"I hate to see you dining alone on your first night." She rested a hand on his forearm. "I've done it many times. Now hurry along. I'm sure your wife and kids must be wondering where—"

"I have no family," he interrupted. "ZyQyx is my family."

"I'm sorry." She meant it. Now that the Springs had dwindled to Travis and to her, she knew the same feelings of loneliness Ian must feel. She also knew a paid staff never replaced family.