Page 50 of The Five Year Lie

16

FIVE YEARS AGO, JUNE

Brainz watches out of the corner of his eye as Drew Miller enters the room from the stairwell, carrying a paper bag from the deli on the next block. Mr. Army Hero walks with a slight limp, which he tries to hide.

His rhythms are familiar by now—Drew likes to fetch his lunch early. He eats at his desk. And he only takes a coffee break when there’s someone else lurking around the coffee maker to talk to.

And when he passes Ariel Cafferty, he doesn’t glance at her.

Back at his own desk, he pulls a sandwich out of the bag and unwraps it. He props his phone up on the edge of his monitor and reads something on the screen while he chews.

Then he turns his head sharply in this direction, like a man who knows he’s being watched.

Brainz stands up, tucks his wallet into his pocket, and carries his phone past Drew, giving the guy a nod. “Looks good. Time for lunch.”

He heads into the stairwell but climbs up, not down.

The third floor is a mishmash of Chime Co. functions—accounting, billing, etc. But there’s a server closet in the back corner, and that’s where he heads now.

After closing the door behind himself, he sits down and logs into the terminal that’s hidden inside. Then he taps in a status request for Drew Miller’s terminal ID.

God, this asshole is predictable. Thirty seconds ago Drew had logged in as Nebowitz, a database manager.

That’s the sixth stolen log-in, and counting.

It would be so satisfying to lock him out and then rat him out. But he’s not going to do that until he figures out what this punk is up to. Only then can he get Drew’s ass fired. Or—even better—scare the shit out of him andthenfire him.

Drew Miller sends another query to the database while Brainz follows every keystroke. It’s hard to watch.Who are you really, fucker? You’d better hope I never find out.

Then his phone beeps. An encrypted message from TheBoss to Brainz.

TheBoss:Lunch meeting? Thai place?

Brainz: Sure.

TheBoss:Where’d you go?

Brainz: Upstairs. Men’s room.

There’s no need to let TheBoss know about Drew Miller. Not yet anyway.

Brainz: Meet you there in fifteen.

He needs a few extra minutes to watch Drew take his lunchtime stroll around the network.

Lately Mr. Army Hero has two obsessions: he looks at police warrants for videos in Lowden, Maine, and then he pokes around the edges of the LiveMatch software.

Good luck, sucker. The guts of LiveMatch are safe behind the wall he’s built around it. His secrets are well protected. Army boycan query the network from now until doomsday, and he still won’t be able to untangle the details of his side hustle.

ButLowden. That location can’t be a coincidence. It’s definitely something to watch.

He pulls up the corporate security system, and the tap of a few keystrokes brings up a video feed of Drew Miller at his desk. There he is—tapping away, his too-handsome face in a thoughtful frown. Now that Brainz is out of his peripheral vision, Drew thinks nobody’s watching.

That’s the thing about cameras—people always forget about them. Even the smart ones. (Smartish, in Drew’s case.) The human attention span is like a flashlight shining in the dark. It’s built to focus on the most important thing in front of you.

Brainz pulls up a couple of feeds from different angles, zooming in and snapping still shots. He saves them to a thumb drive.

Then he unlocks the LiveMatch system and uploads Drew’s photos one by one.Imaging, the software says.Target identification: no result.