Always You (26 page)

“The Nutbuster is a fitting tribute to your son’s life and your life’s work,” she told the doctor. “You’ll spare a lot of parents the suffering you’ve had to endure.”

“And what role could your company’s R-GS system play in regard to me and my work?”

“From the information you’ve already provided to USITI, I can tell you right now that the system you currently utilize is perfectly adequate for your needs,” Chiara said confidently. “Essentially, you’re a small business owner, but what makes you unique is the number of different types of organizations and people with whom you have to interact all over the globe. USITI’s R-GS system is the best there is when it comes to the particular needs of a businessman like yourself.”

She set her briefcase on the lab table, opened it, and then flipped open her notebook computer. She had a hard copy of her presentation, but knew that the online version would dazzle the old scientist with its ease of use.

Using her mouse, Chiara guided him all over the site, showing him the simple beauty of the R-GS system. “Each R-GS system is tailored for each client,” she said. “Given the sensitive nature of much of your work, Emmitt Grayson personally undertook the challenge of devising a system that would ensure the protection of your critical business and research information, a system flexible enough to accommodate future growth as well as respond to the changing requirements of your customers and work associates.

“The most beautiful part of the system is its simplicity,” Chiara finished. “Simplicity improves productivity. Security, simplicity and productivity…those are the things USITI’s R-GS system guarantees.”

Dr. Westcott spent a long moment quietly pondering Chiara’s spiel. This was usually the place where she fielded questions, where her potential clients either challenged her to make a harder sell or to allow them trial use of the system before they made a final decision. Chiara’s short time in the doctor’s presence had shown her that he was a no-nonsense sort, and that he’d give her an answer, one way or the other, rather shortly.

“Okay, Miss Winters,” Dr. Westcott said sooner than Chiara expected. “I’ll try your system, on a trial basis.”

She stifled a sigh of relief. “Would thirty days suit you?”

“I think thirty days would certainly suffice,” the doctor agreed.

“Excellent,” Chiara said. “The head of information systems in our new St. Louis office will come here personally to install the R-GS system. His name is John Mahoney, and he’s very good at what he does.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less than the best from USITI,” Dr. Westcott remarked. As if that concluded the day’s business, he rose from his stool and offered a hand to Chiara. “I think Orabelle’s got some crab cakes on for lunch. Would you care to join us? I won’t take no for an answer.”

“In that case, I won’t waste my breath by faking a polite refusal.” Chiara smiled and accepted his hand. “I’d love to join you for lunch.”
While you’re still on speaking terms with me
, she thought.

* * *

Two weeks after John returned from installing the SNITCH chip at Westcott Technologies, a soft knock sounded on the door of his office at USITI-St. Louis. Before he could respond, the door flew open and a flood of strangers in dark blue nylon jackets washed into the room. John saw many more jacketed men filtering through the offices and cubicles beyond his doorway. A man in a dark suit displayed a gleaming badge and identification card as he strode toward John, his face severe.

“John Mahoney,” he started in a deep, authoritative voice not meant to be questioned or interrupted, “please step away from your desk and your computer. This office is being seized by the Federal Trade Commission, the FBI and the Missouri State Attorney’s office on charges of corporate espionage and numerous privacy violations. We have orders to seize everything in this facility, including but not limited to all computer systems, hardware, software—”

“He’s one of us, Mr. Connor.”

John, who’d been rigid with apprehension and shock, visibly relaxed at the sound of Ciel’s voice as she came up behind the man in the suit. Dressed in a pale gray, pinstriped skirt and jacket that flattered her figure, she looked as though she’d just come from court.

“John,” Ciel said, “this is Matthew Connor. He’s with the FBI. He’s been working very closely with the state attorney on this case.”

“The SNITCH worked?” John said, his voice shriveled to an embarrassing squeak.

Ciel grinned openly. “It worked, all right. Three days ago Dr. Walter Westcott’s computer system reported a series of unauthorized outside invasions. The dates and times of the breaks were logged as well as the duration of the visits and the information that was copied. Best of all, the SNITCH tracked the information back to Emmitt Grayson in Chicago. The SNITCH performed beautifully.”

“Mrs. Clark told me that a college student devised the secureware that snared Grayson,” Mr. Connor said.

“My kid brother,” John said. “He’s…talented.”

Mr. Connor whistled in amazement. “Mrs. Clark here contacted the state attorney, who got the FBI involved. Quite frankly, in all my years in the computer crimes division, I’ve never seen anything like that SNITCH.” Mr. Connor handed John a tri-fold booklet of papers.

“What’s this?” John asked.

“The warrant for the seizure,” Mr. Connor said.

John set it on his desk without reading it. “I’m sure everything is in order. What do you need from me?”

“Not a thing,” Mr. Connor said. “You’ve done quite enough already.”

John sank heavily into his chair, realizing that it was the last time he’d ever do so. The chair, the desk, everything in the office, would soon be in the possession of the U.S. government. “It worked.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I have to call Chiara. I have to let her know that…” He glanced up at Ciel, and he wondered if she could see the hope in his eyes. “It’s over, isn’t it?”

“For Emmitt Grayson, definitely,” Mr. Connor said. “You and Chiara Winters executed a masterful sting. The information we gathered on Emmitt Grayson from Dr. Walter Westcott alone will be enough to charge him with at least a dozen domestic and international privacy and fair trade violations.”

“This was a team effort,” John said. “It wouldn’t have happened without the Winters sisters and my brother pitching in.”

“Every USITI office is being raided at this moment, with Chicago being our top priority,” Mr. Connor said. “At this time, we have no reason to believe that anyone other than Emmitt Grayson has directly and knowingly committed a crime. However—”

“Mr. Mahoney!” A frantic female employee burst into the office and pushed her way through agents and between Mr. Connor and Ciel to get to John. “Mr. Mahoney, there are FBI agents boxing up the computers. They’re collecting files and taking everything that isn’t nailed down! What’s going on? Are we in trouble?”

John looked to Mr. Connor for an answer.

“I was just telling Mr. Mahoney here that no one in this office is in danger of arrest,” Mr. Connor explained calmly. “We have reason to believe that United States IntelTech, Inc. is guilty of corporate spying. We’re looking at one suspect in this case.”

Horrified, the woman looked at John. “What’s happening to the company, Mr. Mahoney? Will I have a job in the morning?”

John stood and stepped around his desk, to take the woman by her shoulders. “I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen to USITI-St. Louis, but as soon as I do, I’ll let everyone here know.”

The woman’s mouth worked, but no sensible sounds came out. “M-Mr. Mahoney…I don’t…wh-what…”

“Every employee is insured against this sort of thing,” John assured her. “You’ll receive your salary for several months even if USITI goes under.”

“Why don’t you go home, ma’am,” Mr. Connor said. “Until further notice, you have the day off.”

“Oh God, Mr. Mahoney, is it really that bad?”

“I’m afraid it is,” John said. “For Emmitt Grayson.”

* * *

Chiara sat at a sterile grey table separating her from Emmitt Grayson. A month in the East Moline Correctional Center, where he’d remain until his trial—which was being touted as the biggest in Chicago since Al Capone went down in 1931—had drastically altered Grayson’s appearance. His face was more gaunt, his cheeks hollowed by his inability to eat carbohydrate-heavy food that was a far cry from the gourmet specialties he had grown accustomed to prior to his incarceration. His costly tailored suits had been replaced by a state-issued jumpsuit that did nothing to flatter Grayson’s naturally slim build.

Although he had none of his usual grooming products, Grayson still managed to keep his steel-gray hair slicked back from his wide forehead. And his icy, unblinking stare remained the same. The only thing that had changed was Chiara’s ability to meet his gaze head-on, which she did as she waited for him to speak.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly. “I didn’t think you would.”

“There’s something I want to know,” Chiara said. “Something I think you can tell me.”

Grayson’s lips moved into the approximation of a smile. “Chen Zhou.”

“That’s right,” Chiara snapped, making no effort to mask her anger.

Immediately after the raid on the USITI offices, her life had been turned upside down again, but in a different way. Cady had written an article for her newspaper detailing every step of USITI’s downfall, from Chen Zhou’s death to Dr. Westcott’s discovery of Emmitt Grayson’s document theft and the subsequent raids on the USITI offices.

The article, which included two sidebars on George’s invention of the SNITCH and Carlton Puel’s alleged involvement in attacks on Chiara and John, had been syndicated, and had run in major dailies across the United States.

The world had learned of Emmitt Grayson’s downfall at the hands of two USITI employees, and the spotlight had turned its ugly glare on Chiara and John. Chiara had always cherished her privacy, had guarded it ferociously, and the unneeded attention had driven her into seclusion at her mother’s house until the day she and John had hopped into John’s Nissan and driven to Moline for Chiara’s private meeting with Grayson.

She could now admit to herself that Grayson had always scared her a little bit. Until now. The only feelings she had left for him were contempt and anger, and they rose as she faced him in his prison grays.

“Did Carlton Puel kill my friend?” Chiara asked bluntly.

Grayson was first to look away. He dropped his gaze to his hands, which were flat on the tabletop. “No. Carlton is greedy and ruthless, but as far as I know, he isn’t a murderer.”

“How does he figure into everything that happened?” Chiara asked.

“Carlton and I are old friends,” Grayson said softly. “In college, we were something of a team when it came to computers. We shared ideas, innovations. I was the more talented of the two of us, and he knew it. He resented it.”

“How did he find out about the master chip technology?”

“That was something I began working on during my undergraduate years. I perfected it once I created USITI. Carlton knew that I was using the system once he read the
American Investors
article.” Grayson chuckled mirthlessly. “Back in college, I never won a single college football bet, never mind masterfully played the stock market. He knew that I’d discovered…an advantage. He badgered me until I told him about the R-GS system, and I offered him a cut. Evidently, he wanted more. Too much more.”

“So he went to Zhou, to get a master chip of his own,” Chiara guessed.

“When you returned from Tokyo, Zhou confronted me,” Grayson said. His hands began to shake and he removed them from Chiara’s view. “He told me that he knew what the chips did, and how I’d built my fortune. He called me a thief and refused to turn over the master chip. I couldn’t let him keep it. I couldn’t let him turn it in to the authorities.”

Chiara sat up even straighter in her chair. Her heart seemed to stop its hard drumming in her chest. “You…you?” she gasped.

“I only wanted him to sleep, so I could search his apartment,” Grayson admitted. “He wasn’t supposed to die.”

Chiara blanched and failed to hold back tears. “You know we’re being taped, don’t you? You know you just confessed to murder?”

Grayson’s smile trembled. “Actually, my legal team has informed me that such an admission falls under the category of voluntary manslaughter.”

Chiara began to shiver despite the warmth provided by her snug wool jersey dress. “Why are you telling me this? Why didn’t you tell the authorities when you were arrested? You ratted Carlton Puel out fast enough, when you told the police that he’s the one who sent Anthony Taylor to attack me and John.”

“I felt I owed
you
the truth before all others.” He gave a tiny shrug. “That, and the full complement of benefits, bonuses and incentives you earned during your tenure as a sales representative for USITI.”

“I don’t want anything from USITI.” She angrily swiped away the tears wetting her cheeks. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“My lawyers have already transferred the appropriate funds into your bank account, Chiara,” Grayson said. “It’s the least I can do, for what you’ve been through.”

She slammed her fists on the table as she launched herself to her feet. One of the two guards standing at the doorway took a short step toward her. “It’s not just me!” she ranted. “It’s John and our families, and Zhou! It’s all those people you spied on and stole from, and all the USITI employees who are in limbo now, wondering if they’re going to lose their jobs. Do you have any real idea how much damage you’ve done?”

Grayson accepted her wrath unflinchingly as he gazed at the walls around him. “I believe I’ll have lots of time to reflect on that in the near future, Chiara.”

Chiara bid Grayson a hurried and impersonal goodbye before rushing into the drab lobby of the minimum-security facility. She threw herself into John’s arms and wept into his neck and shoulder.

“Baby, what happened?” John asked, trying to pry her off of him enough to look into her face.

“He did it,” she whispered on a sob. “He killed Zhou, all because of that chip.”

John’s arms slowly went around her, his hands caressing her back. He pressed his lips to her head and comforted her until she was empty of tears. “It’s over now, baby. It’s all over. Grayson’s in here, Carlton Puel’s in jail in Arizona, and the whole world knows what we sacrificed to do what’s right.”