Total Control (3 page)

As the lights came on, Jason was illuminated briefly in the doorway.

He quickly closed the door; the twin dead bolts slid back into place. As he looked around the neatly arranged office, his hands were shaking and his heart was beating so hard he was absolutely certain it could be heard throughout the entire building. This was not the first time. It was far from the first time. He allowed himself a brief smile as he focused on the fact that this would be the last time. Regardless of what happened, this was it. Everyone had a limit, and tonight he had reached his.

He moved to the desk, sat down and turned on the computer. Attached to the monitor was a small microphone mounted on a long flexible metal neck that one could speak into for voice commands.

Jason impatiently pushed it out of the way so he would have a clear view of the computer screen. His back ramrod straight, eyes glued to the screen, hands poised to strike, he was now clearly in his element.

Like a pianist's in full swing, his fingers flashed across the keyboard. He peered at the screen, which fed instructions back to him, instructions so familiar as to be rote. Jason hit four digits on the numeric pad attached to the base of the computer's microprocessor unit, then he leaned forward and fixed his gaze at a spot in the upper right-hand corner of the monitor. Jason knew that a video camera had just that instant electronically interrogated his right iris, transmitting a host of unique discriminators contained within his eye to a central database, which, in turn, compared the image of his iris to the thirty thousand residing in that computerized file. The entire process had taken barely four seconds. As accustomed as he was to the ever-expanding muscle of technology, even Jason Archer had to shake his head occasionally over what was really out there.

Iris scanners were also used to closely monitor worker productivity.

Jason grimaced. Truth be known, Orwell had actually underestimated.

He refocused on the machine in front of him. For the next twenty minutes Jason worked away at the keyboard, pausing only when more data flashed across the screen in answer to his queries. The system was fast, yet it had a difficult time keeping up with the fluid swiftness of Jason's commands. Suddenly his head jerked around as a noise from the hallway filtered into the office. The damn dream again. Probably just Charlie making rounds. He looked at the screen. He wasn't getting much of anything. A waste of time. He wrote down a list of file names on a piece of paper, shut the computer down, rose and went to the door. Pausing, he leaned his ear against the wood. Satisfied, he slid the dead bolts back and opened the door, turning off the light as he closed the door behind him. A moment later the dead bolts automatically moved back into locked positions.

He moved quickly down the hallway, finally stopping at the far end of the corridor in a little-used section of the office space. This door had an ordinary lock that Jason opened using a special tool. He locked the door behind him. He did not turn on the overhead light.

Instead, he produced a small flashlight from his coat pocket and turned it on. The computer. console was in the far corner of the room next to a low filing cabinet piled three feet high with cardboard packing boxes.

Jason pulled the computer workstation away from the wall, exposing cables that dangled down from the back of the computer. He knelt down and gripped the cables while at the same time inching aside a filing cabinet adjacent to the worktable, revealing an outlet on the wall with several data ports. Jason attached a cable line from the computer into a port, making sure it was tight. Then he sat down in front of the computer and turned it on. As the computer came to life, Jason perched his flashlight on a box top so that the light shone directly on the keyboard. There was no numeric keypad on which to input a security pass code. Nor did Jason have to stare at the upper right-hand corner of the computer screen waiting to be positively identified. In fact, as far as Triton's computer network was concerned, this workstation didn't even exist.

He slipped the piece of paper from his pocket and laid it in the flashlight's beam atop the keyboard. Suddenly he was conscious of movement outside the door. Holding his breath, he buried the flashlight into his armpit with his hand before hitting the off button. He dimmed the monitor until the images on the screen receded into blackness. Minutes went by as Jason sat in the darkness. A drop of sweat formed on his forehead and then lazily made its way down his nose before settling on the top of his lip. He was too afraid to wipe it away.

After five minutes of silence he turned the flashlight and computer monitor back on and resumed his work. He grinned once as a particularly stubborn firewall--an internal security system designed to prevent unauthorized access to computerized databasescol-lapsed under his persistent nudgings. Working quickly now, he made his way to the end of the files listed on the paper. Then he reached inside his coat and withdrew a three-and-a-half-inch micro floppy disk and placed it in the computer's disk drive. A couple of minutes later, Jason withdrew the disk, turned off the computer and left. He walked quietly back through the maze of security, said good-bye to Charlie and moved out into the night.

CHAPTER THREE

The moonlight drifted through the window, giving shape to certain objects in the darkened interior of the large room. On a long, solid pine bureau a number' of framed photos stood in three tiers. In one photo, set in the back row, Sidney Archer, dressed in a dark blue business suit, leaned against a gleaming silver Jaguar sedan. Next to her Jason Archer wore a smile along with his suspenders and dress shirt as he looked lovingly into Sidney's eyes. Another photo showed the same couple, dressed casually, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, their fingers pointing up, mouths opened in spontaneous laughter.

In the middle row of photos, Sidney, some years older, her face bloated, hair wet and clinging to the sides of her head, reclined in a hospital bed. A tiny bundle, eyes scrunched shut, was clutched in her arms. The picture next to that showed Jason, bleary-eyed and unshaven, wearing only a T-shirt and Looney Tunes boxer shorts, lying on the floor. The little one, the eyes now wide open and the brightest of blues, formed a small and contented hump on her father's chest.

The center photo in the front row had clearly been taken at Halloween.

The little bundle was now two years old and dressed as a princess replete with tiara and slippers. Mother and father hovered proudly behind, eyes staring into the camera, their hands cradling the little girl's back and shoulders.

Jason and Sidney lay in the four-poster bed. Jason tossed and turned. It had been a week since the last late-night visit to his office.

Now the payoff finally was here, making it impossible to sleep.

Next to the bedroom door a fully packed, large and particularly ugly canvas bag with blue crisscross stripes and the initials jw^ sat next to a black metal case. The clock on the nightstand limped to two a.M. Sidney's long, slender arm reached out from under the covers and glided around Jason's head, slowly pushing his hair around.

Sidney propped herself up on one elbow and continued to play with her husband's hair as she moved closer to him, finally matching his contours with her own. The flimsy nightgown clung to her.

"Are you asleep?" she murmured. In the background the muted creaks and groans of the aged house were the only sounds to break the silence.

Jason rolled over to look at his wife. "Not really."

"I could tell--you've been moving around a lot. Sometimes you do it in your sleep. You and Amy."

"I hope I haven't been talking in my sleep. Don't want to give any secrets away." He smiled weakly.

Her hand dropped to his face, which she gently stroked. "Everyone needs to keep some secrets, I guess, although I thought we agreed not to have any." She gave a little laugh, but it was hollow.

Jason's mouth parted for a moment as if he were going to speak, but he quickly closed it, stretched his arms and looked at the clock. He groaned when he saw the time. "Jesus, I might as well get up now.

The cab will be here at five-thirty."

Sidney glanced over at the bags by the doorway and frowned.

"This trip really came out of the blue, Jason."

Jason didn't look at her. Instead he wiped his eyes and yawned. "I know. I didn't even find out about it until late yesterday afternoon.

When the boss says go, I go."

Sidney sighed. "I knew the day would come when we'd both be out of town at the same time."

Jason's voice was anxious as he looked at her. "But you worked it out with the day-care center?"

"I had to arrange for someone to stay past the regular Closing, but that's okay. You won't be longer than three days, though, right?"

"Three tops, Sid. I promise." He rubbed vigorously at his scalp.

"You couldn't get out of the New York trip?"

Sidney shook her head. "Lawyers don't get excused from business trips. It's not in the Tyler, Stone manual of being a productive attorney."

"Christ, you do more in three days than most of them do in five."

"Well, sweetie, I don't have to tell you, but in our shop, it's what did you do for me today, and, more important, what are you going to do for me tomorrow, and the day after that."

Jason pulled himself up to a sitting position. "Same at Triton; however, being in the advanced technology business, their expectations go into the next millennium. One day our ship will come in, Sid. Maybe today." He looked at her.

She shook her head. "Right. So while you're waiting down at the docks for our yacht, I'll keep depositing our paychecks and paying down debt. Deal?"

"Okay. But sometimes you have to be optimistic. Look into the future."

"Speaking of the future, have you given any more thought to working on another baby?"

'Tm more than ready. If the next one's like Amy, it'll be a breeze."

Sidney pressed her full thighs against him, quietly pleased that he voiced no objection to enlarging the family. If he was seeing someone else... ? "Speak for yourself, Mr. Male Half of this little equation."

She pushed him.

"Sorry, Sid. Typical brain-dead man thing to say. It won't happen again, promise."

Sidney lay back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling as she gently rubbed his shoulder. Three years ago the thought of leaving the practice of law would have been out of the question. Now, even part-time seemed too intrusive on her life with Amy and Jason. She longed for total freedom to be with her child. Freedom they could not yet afford solely on Jason's salary, even with all the cutbacks they had made, constantly fighting the American-consumer compulsion to spend as much as they earned. But if Jason kept moving up at Triton, who knew?

Sidney had never wanted to be financially dependent on anyone else. She looked at Jason. If she was going to tie her economic survival to one person, who better than a man she had loved almost from the moment she had laid eyes on him? As she continued to watch him, a glimmer of moisture appeared in her eyes. She sat up, leaning into him.

"Well, at least while you're in Los Angeles you can look up some of your old friends--just skip the old flames, please." She tousled his hair. "Besides, you could never leave me. My father would stalk you." Her eyes slowly drifted over his shirtless torso: abdominal muscles stacked on top of one another, cords of muscle rippling just beneath the skin of his shoulders. Sidney was once again reminded of how lucky she had been to collide with Jason Archer's life. And she also knew beyond doubt that her husband believed he was the lucky one for finding her. He didn't answer, just stared off. "You know you've really been burning the midnight oil the last few months, Jason. At the office at all hours, leaving me notes in the middle of the night. I miss you." She nudged him with her hip.

"You remember how much fun it is to snuggle at night, don't you?"

In response he kissed her on the cheek.

"Besides, Triton has a lot of employees. You don't have to do it all yourself," she added.

He looked at her and there was a painful weariness in his eyes.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

Sidney sighed. "After the CyberCom acquisition closes, you'll probably be busier than ever. Maybe I should sabotage the deal. I am lead counsel for Triton, after all." She smiled.

He chuckled halfheartedly, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"The meeting in New York should be interesting, anyway."

He abruptly focused on her. "Why's that?"

"Because we're meeting on the CyberCom deal. Nathan Gamble and your buddy Quentin Rowe will both be there."

The blood slowly drained from her husband's face. He stammered, "I--I thought the meeting was for the BelTek proposal."

"No, I was taken off that a month ago so I could focus on Triton's acquisition of CyberCom. I thought I told you."

"Why are you meeting them in New York?"

"Nathan Gamble is there this week. He has that penthouse overlooking the park. Billionaires get their way. So off I go to New York."

Jason sat up, his face so gray she thought he was going to be sick.

"Jason, what is it?" She gripped his shoulder.

He finally recovered and faced her, his expression an acutely disturbing one to her--dominated as it was by guilt.

"Sid, I'm not exactly going to L.A. on business for Triton."

She took her hand off his shoulder and stared at him, her eyes wide with astonishment. Every suspicion she had dutifully battled during the last several months now shot back to the surface. Her throat went completely dry. "What do you mean, Jason?"

"I mean"--he took a deep breath and gripped one of her hands--"I mean, this trip is not for Triton."

"Then who exactly is it for?" she demanded, her face flushed.

"For me, us! It's for us, Sidney."

Scowling, she sat back against the headboard and crossed her arms. "Jason, you're going to tell me what's going on and you're going to do it right now."