Page 34 of Mile High With the Bikers (Screaming Eagles MC #10)
RORY
The SUV pulls up in front of a nondescript building in an office park on the edge of town.
We pull around the back into a courtyard where we park.
A solid set of stairs lead up to an entrance with a plain-lettered sign lit from below.
Logistics Center, U.S. Navy. What the heck are we doing at a military facility?
The other SUVs from earlier arrive right after us and pull in on either side, spilling out their suited enforcers.
A couple of them take up positions outside the entrance, but most wait, watching us.
The lead henchman gets out and opens my door. His smile is slimy. “Welcome.”
I don't bother to answer him, just grab my bag and step out. I'd love to make a run for it, but I don't fancy my chances. I'm sure this guy's faster than me, and even if he isn't, his men probably are. I'd never even make it out of the courtyard.
One of his men opens the front door, and nods as I'm led in, followed by the enforcers.
Immediately inside is a little hall with a reception desk.
And on the floor next to it, lie two men and a woman in uniform.
Oh God, are they dead? I try to calm myself, because I can't panic now, but this is worse than I expected.
If they're not afraid of killing actual soldiers, then there's very little that they'll stop at. How did they even get the jump on them?
Maybe just through numbers. In here, there are several more armed men. Whoever set this up has deep pockets.
“This way, Ms. Whittaker.” The lead henchman waves for me to follow him to the elevator, and then two more fall in behind me.
If I'd hoped to play on their complacency, that hope is immediately dashed. The elevator climb is almost surreal, like we’re just commuting to the same office.
The ding is so loud I jump. My nerves are so shot.
The elevator spits us out into a featureless hallway.
Gray floors, light gray walls, each door down the central corridor completely unmarked, except for a little plaque on the wall next to it, indicating the department.
Filing. Accounting. Data Records. They all sound the same to me, and they're all closed. What a dreary place to work.
We stop next to a door labeled Operations, and the man at the lead opens it.
“Leon, you made it,” exclaims a vaguely familiar voice. “Welcome, Florence! I have to say, this would’ve gone much more easily if you’d’ve just come in for an interview.” None other than Mary Haney walks towards me from around a corner, dressed in a navy suit.
I shrug. “Sorry, I’ve been meaning to get back to you, but you know. Busy.”
Her henchmen move out of the way as she passes. Combined with the ones downstairs, she's brought a small army. “Of course. I understand. There’s always something, isn’t there? So sorry about your poor security guard, what was his name? Jason?”
“Mason.”
“Right, of course, but if you want loyalty, you might want to remind your father to at least do yearly cost of living increases. The poor guy had two kids to put through college and a crippling gambling addiction.” She shakes her head sadly.
“Your father is really such an unpleasant man, isn’t he?
Having you serve us on the plane just to build his own ego. You can do better.”
“Working for you?”
“It’s one option.”
“Where is he?” The office has several computer terminals and wraps around a corner, but no sign of Dad, at least not yet. He has to be nearby. Please let him be okay. My mind flashes to those soldiers by the entrance. How did it only now occur to me that she might've killed him?
“Worried? Don’t be. He’s safe and sound. Quite angry at you, though. And me, but I’m not flesh and blood.”
I make a point of laughing at her. “Are you looking for sympathy? What, isn't Hermes doing his job?”
“Honestly, if it wasn’t causing as much trouble as it is, I’d be impressed.
Not even Connor knew how much control you had over the project.
You should've seen how frustrated he was.” She shakes her head.
“Tantrums aren’t very becoming on grown men, but they are quite emotional, aren’t they?
In any case, I have a schedule to stick to and having to run around collecting you has put me quite a bit behind.
Now that you're here, let's get on with it.”
I don’t know if I should be relieved or terrified.
Both probably. Mary obviously wants us to see what Hermes can do on a military network.
Weapons, plans, spies, who even knows? Area 42?
I can’t be a part of this, and so long as Shrapnel has the dongle, they can do their best, but it just won’t work.
“Where's Dad? I'm not doing anything for you until I see him.”
“And here I thought you two didn't get along. Come on, then. This way.” She takes me deeper into the office.
Oh no.
There he is, cuffs around his wrists and ankles binding him to the chair he's sitting in. His head is slumped, and his body tilted to one side. He looks barely alive, never mind conscious.
“What did you do to him?” I run to the chair, no one bothering to stop me. I lift his head, and his face is bruised and bloody. Ugly cuts that look very deliberate streak down both arms. His eyes are swollen and closed, but when I crouch in front of him to see, he manages to barely open them.
“Rory,” he whispers, and blood mixes with spittle that runs down his chin.
If he’s calling me Rory, I know things are bad.
“Oh God, Dad. We're going to get you out of here, okay?
I'm going to figure it out, and then we'll have you patched right back up and good as new. You just have to hold on a little longer.” I feel sick.
I always knew that Mary Haney was ruthless in business, but Watchsmart is very successful.
Well respected in the industry. So why this?
I turn to her. “What do you want from me?”
She's standing behind an office chair, holding the high back of it and drumming her fingers.
“I think it's obvious. Don't you? I thought you were a genius.” She points at the laptop on the desk behind Dad.
I recognize it as his, with his monogram embossed on the lid.
He paid a lot of money for that design. “Your father failed to make Hermes work.
I'm counting on you to do better, for both of your sakes.”
Haney seems stressed. She's constantly looking towards the door, and there's this edge to her voice, just under the surface, that's not quite panic, but heading in that direction.
My guess is that our time here is limited until someone discovers what's going on.
Is that something I can use? Because I'm about to disappoint her, and she's not going to like it.
“Why are you even doing this? You’re throwing everything away, and for what?” I run a hand through Dad's hair, wincing at the lumps I feel.
“Money, obviously. Honey, I know you're still young, but I’m tired.
At the end of the day, a girl just wants to be able to get herself a private island, a yacht or two, and the knowledge that she's never going to have to work a day again for the rest of her life.
That can't seem so strange, can it? Now get on that laptop and start opening up some servers for me.” Definitely stressed.
And almost as big a narcissist as my father, if she's still willing to do her villain speech at a time like this.
“What are you after, exactly? Do you know?
Once I'm inside this network, there's bound to be nearly limitless data to go through.” Just have to keep her talking until I figure out how to get out of this. “If we let it run on its own, it could take days. I usually aim it manually so we don’t waste time on useless information.”
She scowls. “We can decide that when we see how successful this is.”
“And then what? You think you can just walk out of here and no one will know?”
She laughs harshly. “Oh, people will know, but I’ll be long gone and who do you think they'll find in here?
You and your father, with the program you developed.
But none of this can happen until you start working your magic.
I want to see what I saw in the demonstrations.
Emails, prototypes, naval movements. Everything.
Anything. Get going. We're running out of time!”
I pull out my laptop and set it up next to Dad’s after a quick glance to make sure he's still breathing. It doesn’t take long to bring up the right programs, starting them with the right switches, in the right order. All the little details that Dad's always been happy to leave to me.
It should get Hermes up and running perfectly.
That is if my dongle wasn't still in Shrapnel's boot and nowhere near here.