Page 53 of Perfect Order
There’s a moment’s pause before he bellows out a laugh. “No, and neither did anyone else. I think I’ll leave you to wonder about that—and her—for a while.” He disconnects the call in my ear. I’m certain if he was at the office, he’d have slammed down the receiver.
As I sit on the couch I’ve been bunking on since we landed in Texas, I wonder if it’s too late to make a resolution for the new year. If I could, I’d take the words I harmed this woman with and fling them out. Instead, I’d ask her if she needs help to make some order out of the mess she presently finds herself in.
It’s something I wish someone would have offered me in Azerbaijan.
With that last thought, I toss my cell on the table and fall back against the cushions, frustrated. Then I shoot straight up as Caleb’s words penetrate.
Who is Leanne Miles?
Snatching up my cell, I begin with a simple online search, and once I get past what I now know are the fake obituaries, my eyes widen even as my lips curve upward. “No fucking way.”
Kane
What the hell does a guy have to do to get tickets to the Grammys? Beg? I’m good at begging. Just ask my ex.
— @PRyanPOfficial
Now don’t you wish you were nicer about those Brendan Blake tickets? @PRyanPOfficial#HereICome #LA #Grammys
—@CuTEandRich3
“Leanne Miles, CEO of Castor Industries Inc., was considered by many to be one of the most brilliant software developers on the planet,” Sam Akin confirms the next day when I call him at the office. “Her death was mourned. Every year at Defcon, from the time she was eligible, she and the core team she assembles from Castor actively compete for the Black Badge.”
“Stop speaking computer, Sam,” I order. “Talk to me like I’m three.”
“Okay, wrap your mind around this. Leanne Miles is considered by most to be one of the most brilliant artificial intelligence developers on the planet. And the contract they announced she won with the DoD wasn’t her first stint with the government. She’s likely supported missions the public isn’t even aware of all from her mountainside office.”
“So, you’re saying someone like her could get into our systems?” I question sharply.
Sam laughs. “With one hand tied behind her back and possibly her eyes closed. Are you kidding me? If I could, I’d get down on my knees and beg for Caleb and Keene to approve her to upgrade every aspect of our network I don’t have time to work on. She’s the best of the best, Kane. She wrote the encryption software we use today to protect Hudson’s data as her senior year project at MIT.” Sam is so enthused about Leanne, he doesn’t realize he’s speaking about her in the first person to someone who shouldn’t know she’s alive.
“I thought you were the best of the best,” I challenge him. I know for a fact Sam Akin has a resume that’s easily a mile long with accolades from the president himself.
“I’m athink on my feet in the momentkind of guy. Leanne Miles is the person you want at your back making sure your tracks are covered. I swear, the day they announced she died, every cretin on the Dark Web held a memorial for her. I attended a few, and no joke, there was some serious mourning going on. Granted, the tears were black, and they led to some awful shit happening… Hey, why all the questions about her?” he regains himself to ask.
“Her sister is friendly with my principal.” I mean, it’s not a lie.
“And you want to see if they have the same skill set?” Sam jumps to a logical—if erroneous—conclusion. “No, Kylie Miles took her degrees in math and parlayed them to music. Same principles if you think about composers writing in patterns and rules. Plus, she had courses on music theory—”
“Sam,” I ground him in reality. “One last question?”
“Sure.”
“If Leanne Miles were alive today, would you ever know if she were in Hudson’s systems?”
“Nope. I’d never have a clue,” he admits cheerfully. “She is seriously that damn good. In fact…”
Great. Just great. I interrupt him before his enthusiastic loose lips can get us both in trouble. “Thanks, man. We’ll have to grab lunch when I’m back in the office.”
“From what I hear, you’re heading to LA soon. I have to tell you, Iris would come out of retirement in order to join Beckett’s team.” Sam names his wife, a notorious linguistics specialist who now only does special assignments with foreign dignitaries.
“No dice.”
“Tickets to a show?”
I hesitate before admitting, “I don’t even know when Beckett’s touring next.”
“This phone call has been completely depressing, Kane. First, you bring up Leanne Miles, and then you’re going to force me to tell Iris her persistent refreshing of Beckett Miller’s website is fruitless. I think I’m going to go beg my cousin for a coconut cake to cheer me up.”
