Page 30 of Private Exhibit
Why did Dr. Gerard hate Dr. Crawford so much?
He didn't have time to seek out an answer. Devon went back to the desk and took a few minutes to reorient himself, trying to get his mind back where it had been before that interruption. It was nearly an hour before he got back into the zone, slowly regaining his focus.
Finally, his phone vibrated, alerting him that it was time to go home.
Devon finished the file he was working on, then moved the paper copy to theDONEpile. He couldn't help smiling a little. Despite everything, he'd made good progress. One more day should see the rest of the files digitized and submitted, leaving the desk completely clear.
Gods. He couldn't wait to see that. To have the desk there, the huge, unbroken glass surface unencumbered, in all its shining glory? It would be magnificent.
And—all going well—he could sneak a quick look at Dannika's file before moving on to clearing out Dr. Gerard's old office.
Devon wiped down the desk, clocked out, and headed home.
He winced as he stepped outside, surrounded by rush hour traffic.Gods. Even though automotive technology had come a long way since the internal combustion engine, cars still didn't run entirely silent. Between those and all the foot traffic, not to mention voices and laughter and music, it was simply too loud. It certainly didn't help that he was hungry again. Just one more thing to add to all the sensory overload.Ugh. Devon ducked his head and moved as quickly as he could, counting down the streets as he went.
Three more blocks, he told himself.Three more blocks, and you'll be home. Then it was two more blocks. Then one. Then two doorways. Then across the lobby and onto the elevator.Almost there. Just get home. That's all you have to do right now. Get home first. Then you can think about everything else.
He made it into the apartment, putting his back to the door with a sigh.
“Hey,” Oliver called from the kitchen. He gave Devon a quick study, then said, “Dinner should be ready soon if you want to shower first.”
Devon's stomach growled as though on cue. He let out a sigh. “Thanks, Oli.” Devon left his shoes on the mat and went straight into the washroom.
He tried to shower quickly, but the hot water felt too good on his skin. It was too loud, striking the shower floor, so Devon covered his ears and closed his eyes. The lingering tension of the day slowly faded as he stood there. It didn't leave entirely but it also didn't feel quite so heavy by the time he got out and dried himself off. Devon went to his room to change into pajamas, then came out to find Oliver carrying plates to the table.
“It was all I could cobble together from what we had,” Oliver said with a grimace, “but–”
Devon waved a hand. “It looks great. Thanks, Oli.”
Oliver flashed him a smile and disappeared behind his computers.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only other sound being the occasional striking of keys from Oliver's side of the table. Devon waited until the food eliminated some more of the overload, then reached for his own keyboard and woke up his computers.
He logged into the Gentleman Hackers chatroom first. Once again, it was just the three of them: himself, Oliver, andGrim. Devon sighed. “Nobody's ever online lately.”
A beat passed, then Oliver said, “They are sometimes during the day. While you're at work.”
“Figures,” Devon whispered. He missed the long conversations they used to have. The whole team could spend all day chatting while working on whatever jobGrimhad given them.
Speaking of which. Devon turned to another monitor and checked on the progress of his work. He'd started the new job that morning over breakfast, running a few test attacks, then left a decryption program running all day while he'd been out. Devon spotted a weakness in their target's security, reading lines of code as easily as most people read a menu.
He was just about to start a new attack when Oliver suddenly shot out of his chair.
“I almost forgot!” Oliver gasped. He strode over to the kitchen and snatched up an envelope. “This came for you this afternoon.”
“What is it?” Devon asked with a frown.
“No idea. A courier dropped it off.”
“Weird.” Devon took the envelope and turned it over, checking both sides. It was addressed to him, but there was no indication of the sender. He pried up the flap and pulled out a folded letter.
A slip of paper fell out and landed on the floor. Oliver scooped it up, then gasped. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
Oliver held up the slip. It was a check, made out to Devon, for twenty grand.
Devon blinked. “Twenty–” He choked. “Am I reading that right?”
