Page 19 of Sly Like a Fox
The door opens, and his expression shifts through surprise, confusion, and something that looks like panic before settling on distant politeness.He’s wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt that emphasizes his lean build, and his hair is slightly mussed as if he’s been running his hands through it.
“I...thank you.That’s very thoughtful, but I’m not sure this is the best time—”
“Are you going to invite me in, or should I explain my surprise out here in the hallway?”
His eyes widen slightly as he takes in my appearance more thoroughly, noting the way my coat hints at very little underneath.After a moment’s hesitation, he steps aside to let me enter.“Of course.Come in.I was just...working on some things.”
I follow him through the main living areas, noting how elegantly furnished but impersonal everything feels.The place feels like a showroom or a hotel suite rather than where someone actually lives.“Working late on more database issues?”
“Something like that.”He seems flustered in a way I’ve never seen before, and it’s strangely endearing.“Can I get you something to drink?Wine?Coffee?”
“In a minute.”I move close enough to see the way his pupils dilate when I reach for the belt of my trench coat.“First, I have something to show you.”
“Jenna, wait—” He holds up a hand, his expression shifting to something that looks almost like alarm.“I need to...Let me just put some things away first.Work stuff.Client confidentiality, you know.”
He disappears down a hallway toward what I assume is his home office, leaving me alone in the living room.I hear him moving around, the sound of papers rustling and what might be computer equipment being shut down.
After several minutes of waiting, my curiosity gets the better of me.Following the hallway, I pass a bedroom and bathroom before hearing the distinctive hum of multiple computers coming from behind a partially closed door.
I push the door open slightly and peek inside.
The sight makes me stumble.This isn’t a home office.
It’s mission control.
The room contains an impressive array of high-end computers, multiple monitors displaying streams of data, servers humming quietly in custom-built racks, and sophisticated networking equipment that looks like it belongs in a corporate data center rather than a residential apartment.The setup costs more than most people’s houses and definitely isn’t used for typical IT consulting.
Financial data scrolls across several screens, and I pick out bank records, transaction histories, and what appear to be account access logs for institutions I recognize.Another monitor displays what looks like security camera feeds from various locations around the city.A third shows lines of code I don’t understand but clearly involve accessing systems that probably don’t belong to him.
“Whoa,” I whisper, taking in the full scope of what I’m seeing.This is either the most elaborate home office setup in existence, or Fenton is involved in something far more complex and possibly illegal than technology consulting.
Chapter 6
Fenton
Thesoundofmyoffice door opening while Jenna is supposed to be waiting in the living room makes me freeze.I’m sitting at my workstation, frantically shutting down the most sensitive displays of financial records from my ongoing investigation into Garret Anklor’s corruption network, surveillance photos, and the detailed organizational chart that maps his entire criminal enterprise.
I hear her soft intake of breath behind me and know without turning around that my cover has just been blown to pieces.
“Fenton?”
Her voice carries confusion mixed with curiosity, maybe, or concern.I slowly turn in my chair to find her standing in the doorway, staring at the bank of monitors I haven’t managed to hide behind the façade with the usual setup, because I can’t close this secret space until the computers are shut down.The screens still show transaction records, account access logs, and lines of code.
This is not how I wanted this evening to go, but she’s already stepping into the room for a closer look, her eyes wide as she takes in the sophisticated computer setup.“Holy crap.This isn’t a normal home office.”
My first instinct is damage control.I should shut down the remaining monitors, escort her out, and come up with a plausible explanation that doesn’t involve confessing I’m conducting an illegal investigation into one of the city’s most powerful businessmen.Looking at her expression, I realize it’s too late for deflection.
She’s seen enough to know this isn’t normal, and trying to lie about it will only make things worse.
Instead, I make a calculated decision to test her reaction with gradual honesty.I gesture toward the monitors.“You’re right.It’s not.”I watch her expression, looking for signs of shock, disgust, or fear.“What you’re looking at is my real work.I’m a freelance problem-solver.”
She tilts her head, considering the phrase.“Problem-solver?”
I point to the financial data scrolling across the nearest screen.“I help redistribute wealth from people who acquire it through illegal means to more deserving recipients.Think of it as aggressive wealth redistribution.”
Her expression shifts from confusion to understanding and then to something that looks remarkably like admiration.She crosses her arms, studying me with new interest.“You’re talking about stealing from criminals.”
I shake my head, choosing my words with care.“I preferwealth redistribution, and I only target people who’ve gained their fortunes by harming others, like corrupt businessmen, money launderers, or individuals who destroy honest companies for profit.”
