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  He smiled. She did not give up easily.

  "I am sure you do, Giselle. For me to trust you, I will need us to put aside our attraction for each other for a moment. We need to be honest with one another." He pulled away from her as he said this. He wanted to look her in the eye so that she could see he was serious. He knew it would be wise to leave the door open, though, just to keep her interested.

  She sighed and looked out into the night.

  "I had guessed you came out here in the cold to be alone. I thought you could use some company."

  He smiled.

  "I am enjoying your company so far." He removed his overcoat and draped it over her shoulders. She would be more candid if she were not chattering through her teeth.

  She smiled, a hint of shyness.

  Where did Sinegem find this girl? Jake wondered.

  "Darius Electric Cooperative is resisting the take-over. They have hired some…unsavory personnel to protect their interests. We are seeking help in removing this obstacle."

  He was familiar with Darius Electric. They were the client that Lars had contracted. Apparently, it was a side job. Again, curious. Jake did not make it a habit to second guess his assignments. He was a tool, a finely tuned machine that did its job without complaint. The question that nagged him was what Darius would want with a woman like Giselle.

  With hundreds of thousands of businesses in the world making millions and billions of dollars annually, it always shocked Jake how ruthless they could be when their livelihood was threatened. These were supposed to be law-abiding citizens. Of course, the closer he got to organizations like Sinegem, the more absurd the idea of pristine or innocent corporations seemed.

  "And Sinegem seeks to eliminate the security that is protecting the owners and board so they can influence them directly to meet their demands. I guess that is the definition of a hostile takeover."

  She did not smile at that. She bit her lip and stared off across the choppy waters. Her breath plumed into frost around her head. She held his overcoat tight across her and shivered again.

  "It isn't as simple as that," she said, her voice shaking.

  Jake swallowed. He could not tell if she was emotional or merely cold.

  "What is so complicated as a big company trying to swallow up a small company hoping to get bigger?"

  "For starters, the unsavory personnel that Darius has employed is Galbraith."

  He put his hands in his pockets and smirked. On a deep level, he loved irony. It made life exciting.

  "I see," Jake replied. Pretending was like telling a lie. Both were easy to do if you could convince yourself first. "So, how do I fit into this equation, Giselle?"

  "I need you to allow me to do my job, Mr. Monday," she looked up at him, her eyes glassy.

  It is probably just the cold wind, Jake thought.

  "No one has ordered me to do anything about you at all. I am just a puppet on a string, after all. I don't know what you have been told that I do…"

  She put one finger to his lips and the other found its way to his chest again. The overcoat slipped to the deck with a sharp thud.

  I should remember to keep my weapons under my shirt or something, Jake chided himself.

  "I know all about you, Mr. Monday. I know all I need to know. Sinegem wants you, Mr. Monday. Come to work for us. You don't need Galbraith anymore. Our contract with your organization is in jeopardy over this. There is no need for you to continue to work for an organization with such little loyalty. Besides, you are a known commodity in our business."

  As tempting as that sounded, he could not ignore the alarm in his head.

  He looked down at her. He found that looking into her eyes was harder to do than he had expected. They were so blue they seemed almost electric. He cleared his throat and stepped back.

  Jake reached down and retrieved the overcoat and put it across his arm, keeping the gun against his stomach.

  "It is getting too cold out here to stand around like this. We should join the others," he said with finality.

  To her credit, Giselle remained stoic. A playful smiled tugged at the corners of her mouth and she arched her eyebrows.

  "Of course, Mr. Monday. I will look forward to continuing our interview at a future time. Perhaps soon."

  He nodded and licked his lips.

  "Perhaps," he managed as he took her arm and began pretending again. Together, they walked into the warmth and bright lights of the teak- and chrome-lined cabin.

  Chapter 6

  Home Alone

  Jake stretched out on his leather sectional. Sometimes he liked sleeping out here. It made him feel less lonely. He felt more like a bachelor or college student driven to excesses and just crashing.

  The only problem was that he could not remember ever being a college student. A diploma on his wall claimed that he had graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree from Purdue. A photo by his bedside had a picture with him partying with some apparent friends at a college bar. He did not recognize any of them—not even the blonde draped across his lap drinking directly from a beer tap. Next to it was another degree: a Master in Criminal Science from Ohio State.

  These photos belonged to him. He knew it. They were there by his bed. Somehow, he felt they were not actually a part of him. They were someone else’s life. Some other time. He had given up on puzzling it all out.

  He took this lack of memory and the mystery of his life in stride. He lay back and tried to relax. He did not want to wake with a stiff neck. He stared up at the ceiling in the darkness, wondering about the evening he just had. He managed to escape with his dignity and his sobriety. He could not say the same for the majority of the people who attended the party.

  When he arrived home, the snow had piled up so high that he felt like he had to walk up hill just to enter the building. The porter had long before shuffled off to manage his two hour nap in the linen closet.

  Giselle could melt the snow at his doorstep. She was that hot. He tried not to think of her specifically.

  Jake made a mental note to check out Darius Electric Cooperative in the morning. He was not the one who usually did the legwork and research. He was more point-and-click. Mark a target and watch me shoot. Sometimes he felt like the hunter in that old Atari game.

  He listened to the sounds of the leather sectional creak beneath him, the hum of his refrigerator in the kitchen, the knocks and pings of the old building, the cooing of birds outside his penthouse windows. He glanced out the bay of windows, expecting to see more snow falling. It had stopped.

  He sighed. He was restless. He could not wait until morning. He had to know.

  Jake swung his feet onto the floor and flung the quilt off. He stared at it for a second, wondering again where he had gotten it. He shook his head. It was three in the morning and he was not operating at capacity. Tomorrow was Saturday and he did not need to go to the office to get the information he needed.

  He shuffled into the kitchen and flicked the switch to his secure network. He waited as the log in screen blinked for a few moments and watched the stupid circle spin and the Galbraith world logo revolve. He sighed. He should be in bed. Maybe the couch was a bad idea tonight.

  He logged in and began surfing anyway. He wanted something to drink. He figured he would get the research done quickly and then reward himself with a glass of milk.

  Who knew assassins wore Armani, flossed regularly and drank skim?

  The information on the Darius website was the usual cheery and overindulgent propaganda in which most companies participate. Environment this, safety that. Stockholder shares protected, profits maximized, customer retention and satisfaction the best in the world, et cetera. What Jake wanted was the personnel, the big wigs, the locations, and the dollars.

  The things that mattered were buried, of course. He could see the place for contacting them, but it was just an email dump to the administrator. Not helpful. Eight-hundred number and industry links. Not helpful. Under the site map, he found it, though. Company secure log in. He plugged in the hacking device that Gary had gifted him for Christmas and watched as its red lights illumined the darkness of his breakfast nook.

  While he waited, he got up and poured himself a glass of milk. He liked the way it felt going down his throat, coating it with milky goodness.

  I should stay up until three more often, Jake observed.

  Gary's device beeped. He glanced at the terminal and saw that he had hacked into their intranet. He felt a little dirty. Irony was so entertaining. Darius was sure to meet with him on Monday. Saturday in the wee hours of the morning, he was going to access all their grubby little secrets.

  He hoped he could find some dirt on them so that he could watch their faces on Monday. If he had ever played baseball, maybe a curve ball had been his favorite pitch. He smirked. He wished he could remember.

  He sat down at the terminal, the glass of milk at his side. He navigated the Darius intranet, wondering if their security protocols were as lazy and uninteresting as their public site. He stopped when he got to the daily memos.

  Jake could see entire conversations. There were perhaps hundreds of thousands of megabytes of files and files inside of files. He had simply clicked on a folder that was marked "Trash." Evidently, it was a repository for everyone's deleted files.

  He opened the first document he found. It was like panning for gold and he just found the mother lode.

  He stared at the letter, reading it and not fully believing what he saw.

  Calvin,

  We will only work with Galbraith if they can get Mr. Monday to take the assignment to eliminate Ms. Chaput. You claim that he is the best they have to offer. We cannot afford to have her to continue to meddle with our affairs.

  We can no longer tolerate Sinegem
bullying us. We need to send a statement. Get a meeting together with Lars as soon as you can.

  Your father has helped us before. I trust his loyalty to our cause will be sufficient for him to see our plight. I am counting on you. Darius is counting on you. Make this happen and we can finally make your promotion official.

  --T

  Jake was stunned. He had no idea that Lars had a child. That would mean that someone had slept with him. The prospect of that was both repulsive and incredible.

  From the correspondence, Jake had to assume that Galbraith had aided them before. Something told him it was for more than just some routine accounting work.

  But, why were they demanding that he be the one who pulled the plug? And was Giselle really that annoying? Surely, they could just pen a strongly worded letter to Sinegem threatening a lawsuit, right? And, why were they protecting their company so vehemently?

  Jake was sure that if he dug any further, he would be amazed at the secrets he could unveil. His luck in finding this correspondence so quickly was certainly evidence that Darius had more skeletons in its closet than Newt Gingrich.

  He sat back, exiting the company intranet site. He was sure he would not be able to sleep tonight.

  Jake got up from his desk and poured another glass of milk from the refrigerator. Unlike many bachelors, he had never developed the habit of drinking straight from the carton. He stared at the glass, the milk an opaque swirl, a bubble popping to the surface.

  He was good at avoiding the difficult questions in his life. He could not stand to reflect too much. He could not abide self-doubt. As he stood there in the kitchen, his feet cold on the marble floor, he wished that he could go home.

  Where ever that was.

  Chapter 7

  All That Glitters

  Gary pushed his glasses back up on his nose. Jake knew he had struck a nerve. Gary was the closest thing he had to a friend, but his access to information was Jake's key to getting what he wanted. Jake would punch him around if needed. He hoped that it would not come to that. It would hardly be fair.

  "So, you think Lars dreamed up that Russian excursion for the company's benefit while scheduling this side trip?"

  "I am sure of it," Jake replied.

  "I don't know, Jake. It doesn't make sense. Sinegem is one of our clients. Why would Lars authorize a hit on one of their corporate spies?"

  "I have no idea," Jake lied. "I was hoping you would know. Any information on Darius that would indicate that they would resort to violence?"

  Gary shrugged. He was dressed in his Sunday leisure outfit: loafers, faded jeans, white t-shirt and a button-up sweater. He looked like he had just walked off the set of “Leave It to Beaver.”

  "Your usual stuff. Typical corporate greed: mafia connections, price hikes, bribing state corporation commissioners, cooked books, ten cent overcharge per customer every month on average. Of course those audits are third party and unpublished. Other than that, they have had three lay-offs in the last four years while the CEO, the board, and the executive officers have received pay increases and bonuses. Welcome to America, right?" Gary picked at his sweater absently and crossed his feet.

  "So, then two other questions come up. Why does Sinegem want to buy them out so badly? And, why does Darius want to resort to violence to keep their business? What is so important?" Jake asked.

  "Perhaps it is something with their R&D department. Darius has been granted half a billion dollars in federal funds to develop new fuel substitutes."

  "Half a billion dollars?" Money was a foreign substance to Jake. When he needed it, he had it. He did not try to accumulate it and thought little of it other than to buy things. When words like billions came into play, it changed the perspective.

  "Oh, did I not mention the government lobbyists?" Gary asked. He smirked.

  Jake scoffed.

  "Have they discovered something that Sinegem wants, maybe?"

  "I don't know. It would be a good question to ask them," Gary responded.

  "Which begs another question."

  "You mean why are we meeting Darius personnel on Galbraith property if we are supposed to be in Russia?" Gary asked.

  "Exactly."

  Gary shook his head. His face was drained of color.

  "Look, I don't feel comfortable thinking about what we are getting into. I need this job and all, but I like my life. I don't have some sick death wish like you do," Gary said.

  "What do you mean?"

  Gary tried to avoid his eyes. He got off the couch and crossed to the bar separating his living room from his kitchen. He had his back to Jake.

  "You know. Lately, you seem to be taking more risks than when I first met you. It's not like you are losing your skills, it is like you are trying to find your limits. I don't know. Maybe I am just scared is all."

  Jake was touched by Gary's compassion.

  "Are you scared of getting fired?" Jake asked.

  Gary smirked. He shrugged.

  "Not really," Gary said. He took a drink from a large glass of orange liquid. Jake suspected it was a Mimosa.

  "When did we become detectives, Jake? I thought our jobs were simple. I do all the tech stuff to make what you do possible and you do what you do. Simple. Bing, bam, thank you ma'am."

  Jake turned and looked out onto Gary's terrace. His apartment wasn't as modern as Jake's but it had a certain charm and a great location. The furnishings were simple but expensive. For all his technical savvy and his youthful interests, it seemed Gary had an old soul.

  "Maybe our jobs just became more complicated. It isn't our fault our boss is moonlighting our services to the enemy. We have to decide who we work for: Lars or Galbraith."

  "Those are awful choices, Jake."

  "That is the world in which we live, Gary. We need to stick together, though. Can I trust you to back me up?"

  "Of course you can."

  Jake wanted to trust Gary. His gut told him that it would never be possible. Gary had a second sense when it came to self-preservation. If push came to shove, he would betray Jake. Jake did not hold that against him, but at the same time, he knew to be cautious.

  "Good. Then I propose we play along as far as we can. We go through the motions, take the assignment, do our jobs, and see how we can muck things up to get the best effect."

  "See? That's exactly what I was talking about," Gary complained. He pointed to Jake with his glass. A little dribbled out onto the carpet. Gary was still a little tipsy from last night, Jake thought.

  "If we take a risk now or refuse the job, then we tip our hand. The connection between Lars and Darius cannot be exposed yet. We don't have hard proof," said Jake.

  "When has that ever been a requirement? There is no Supreme Court, no jury. It goes to the top, and heads roll, regardless. No one is immune, including the whistle-blower."

  "Exactly. They are as likely to persecute the messenger as they are to heed the message. We're better off waiting for someone to get caught in public with their hand in the cookie jar."

  Gary frowned.

  "How are we supposed to do that?" Gary asked.

  "We are in dangerous territory either way, but technically, Sinegem has not fired Galbraith yet. Maybe I can seduce Giselle into convincing Sinegem into firing Galbraith on grounds of breach of contract."

  "You seduce Giselle? Don't you mean the other way around? She is too much woman for even you."

  Jake smiled at that. Gary was not wrong.

  "I trust you had a good time after I left?"

  "She talked about you all night. She wanted to know if you were really a killer for hire."

  "She doesn't believe I could be?"

  "Most people don't, Jake. That is why you are so good at it."

  He had not thought of that before.

  "Interesting," Jake replied.

  Gary finished his drink and sat back on the couch. He looked defeated. Deflated. Desensitized.

  "So, you think that we should go along with Lars' plans without questioning him. Don't you think he will find that suspicious?"

  "We can make it sound as though we understand what his motivations are. Perhaps we should ask for a cut of his take."

  "With what you make, he will just laugh at you. You have no room for greed."

  "Unless I want to own Galbraith itself, right?"

  Gary laughed.