Page 33 of Buried Too Deep

His grandfather would be hiding the Broussard laptops somewhere. Hopefully where the old man hid everything else.

Sage would finally find out where that was.

Metairie, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 5:45 P.M.

A knock on his door had Alan glaring at the clock on his desk. It was about time.

“Enter.”

Medford Hughes came in and closed the door behind him, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but there. Which was the same way he looked every time Alan called him in for a job. The man had his own business doing network stuff, but he always made time for Alan. He was too scared not to.

“Don’t dawdle, Medford,” Alan said, keeping his voice much calmer than he felt. “I need to get into my laptops.”

Medford frowned. “Laptops, sir? More than one?”

“Two.” Without touching the computers, Alan slid them from Sage’s special mesh bag that kept them from connecting to Wi-Fi so they couldn’t be tracked. But Alan had turned off his Wi-Fi in preparation for Medford’s arrival, so they’d be safe.

Medford stared at the laptops on Alan’s desk with open dismay tinged with fear.

“These laptops, sir?”

What was Medford’s problem? The man had unlocked laptops in the past that did not belong to Alan and had never said a word. Alan always claimed he’d forgotten his password and Medford had always nodded as if that were the truth, even though he’d known that the laptops hadn’t belonged to Alan.

But those previous computers had been taken from people Alan knew. He’d always had at least an idea of where to start with the password—pets’ names and the like. This time, he had no clue. And this time, he had two laptops.

The laptops Sage normally collected weren’t owned by tech-savvy companies like Broussard Investigations. They were owned by people who were trying to manipulate Alan, who might be trying to steal from him or even concoct blackmail scenarios. Ministers were always vulnerable to dishonest people who tried to paint them as less than holy.

Alan found that knowing the real intentions of those dishonest people was the best defense. Threatening to disclose their worst secrets always made them back down and walk away.

So he’d send Sage after their computers, and the boy had never failed to deliver.

“These laptops, Medford. Can you help me or not?”

Medford swallowed, clearly nervous. As he should be. Medford owed Alan too much to buck the system. Too much to question Alan’s orders.

“Sir, without some idea of what you might have used as a password, I’d just be stabbing in the dark.”

Medford always referred to the stolen laptops as Alan’s, even though he knew they weren’t. It was most likely how the man justified his actions to himself.

“You have programs to randomize passwords, don’t you?” Alan asked impatiently. “Just let the program spin new passwords until it figures out the right one like you always do.”

“Um…well, sir. These particular laptops will likely have…additional protections.”

“What does that mean?”

Medford wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Just that I might have put protections on these laptops to prevent unauthorized access.”

Claiming that he’d been the one to set up the device security was another way that Medford justified the things he believed to be morally wrong. But it was also an attempt at self-protection because Medford suspected that Alan was recording all their conversations.

Which Alan was, of course.

Sometimes Medford was able to break a password and sometimes he wasn’t. But he always tried. It looked like today might be a first. Medford was looking at these laptops like they were snakes, coiled to strike.

“What might these added protections do, Medford?” Alan asked.

Sweat was beading on Medford’s forehead. “If I try to guess your password and get it wrong after even a few attempts, I could trigger the computer to wipe itself.”

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