Page 31 of 10 Days to Ruin

“It’s the same.”

Brian blinks. “S-Sorry?”

“I said it’s the same. As in,exactlythe same.”

I crush one pill, then the other, and scatter the dust on my desktop. I do it bare-handed, if only to satisfy my slight flair for dramatics. Peter’s brow rises, while Brian’s gaze darts around wildly, at the pills, at the picture, at me.

Sometimes, it’s almost too easy.

“And,” I add, “the leak was traced back toyourshared office.”

Instant pandemonium. Peter’s eyes just about fall out of his head. Brian, for his part, does a good job of looking shocked as well. He sags in his chair. “Th-that’s impossible!” Brian splutters. “I swear, we didn’t?—”

“Yes, you did. One of you, at least. And now, I’m going to give the culprit a choice.” I steeple my fingers and stare into their eyes. “Confess. If you do, I might show mercy. If you don’t…”

There’s no need to finish that sentence.

“You have ten seconds,” I conclude. “Starting now.”

I count them out by drumming my fingers on the desk:Nine. Eight. Seven…

“M-Mr. Ozerov, there must’ve been a mistake?—”

Six, five, four…Feliks starts humming theJeopardytheme from the doorway. He’s got a sick sense of humor.

“I-I’m telling you the truth!”

Three… Two…

“Please you have to…!”

One.

“Time’s up.” I rise. “You’re both fired. Feliks?—”

“Okay, okay! It was me!”

I pause and look at the man who spoke. “So you admit it, Brian?”

“I-I do.” He breathes in deeply, mustache trembling with every panicked inhale. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ozerov. I was in trouble. M-My debts, you see…”

I do see. I have a background check done on all my potential employees. His file is simple. Brian Fenner: deadbeat dad, prostitute enjoyer, and occasional Saturday night gambler. I didn’t hire him out of ignorance and it sure as fuck wasn’t out of pity—I thought his sins would be good blackmail and that his debts would make a strong incentive to put in overtime. I didn’t think he’d bethisstupid.

“Please don’t fire me,” he pleads. “I have kids, I have a family…”

“And your whores,” I cut in as I open one of my desk drawers. “How will they ever cope without you?”

He goes white as a sheet. “M-Mr. Ozerov, please. I really need this?—”

“I won’t fire you.”

His eyes light up. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you, Mr.—”

BANG.

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