Page 35 of Buried Too Deep

“And?”

“I think their content resides on a central server and they use the laptops for access. Like old-time terminals that accessed a mainframe. There’s nothing of use on the hard drive.”

“But I can access the server with the computer if I connect to the internet? Just by plugging the router back in?”

“Possibly, but that will make the machine trackable.” Medford hesitated, looking like he was dueling with the devil himself, but he finally spoke. “If you try to sign on, use someone else’s Wi-Fi. And don’t do it here.”

“I see.” He’d already come to the same conclusion. That Broussard would attempt to track down thieves was a given. It was good that Alan was smarter than those thieves. “And the other machine?”

Clenching his jaw, Medford opened the other machine, poked around the hard drive for a few minutes, then lifted his gaze. “It’s the same.” He pulled off his gloves and threw them in the trash can next to Alan’s desk. “I’m done.”

There was a tension in Medford’s face that Alan did not like. You’re done when I say you’re done.

“Thank you, Medford. That’s all I need for the time being.” He rose and walked Medford out. “How’s your wife?”

Medford flinched, just as Alan had intended him to. “About the same, sir.”

A hopeless addict with a gambling problem, then.

“Give her my best.”

Which translated to: If you want her secrets kept, you’d best keep mine.

Medford jerked a nod. “Yes, sir.”

Alan expected him to leave, his head down, but Medford unexpectedly raised his gaze to meet Alan’s. There was anger there. Despair as well. But there was a glint of determination that told Alan all he needed to know.

Medford had made his decision. The man was going to tell.

“You have something to say, Medford?” he asked sharply.

Medford shook his head. “No, sir. I’ll see myself out.”

Alan closed the door behind him, then returned to his desk to stare at the two laptops.

He needed to keep Medford quiet. He should make Sage take care of the man, but he couldn’t ask that of his grandson. As much as he hated to admit it, that would give Sage one more thing to hold over Alan’s head. For so long, Alan had been in control of his grandson. But that had changed sometime in the past year. Sage had become surly and mean, vicious and calculating. Bold and arrogant.

It’s my fault. I never should have included him in any of this. But his old assistant had died suddenly. Had had a heart attack in his sleep, so Alan had needed someone new to research potential adversaries. Sage had been only fifteen but smart as a whip.

And loyal. At least he had been then.

Alan’s ministry did so much good in the world. But staying on top required sacrifices. Alan had always been certain it had been worth it. He was still certain of his own role. He might have to rethink Sage’s, though.

Pulling on a pair of leather gloves from his coat pocket, he closed the laptops and put them back in Sage’s special bag. He’d follow Medford’s advice and try to access Broussard’s server from somewhere else.

Medford Hughes himself was a more pressing problem. He needed to take care of the man before he did anything else.

Alan rubbed his eyes, cursing his blurred sight. He’d have to drive tonight. He couldn’t trust anyone to drive him to Medford’s home.

From here on out, he’d have to handle things himself.

He picked Medford’s gloves out of the trash can and slipped them into an envelope. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

5

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 6:05 P.M.

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