Page 57 of Splintered Security
I hear my phone ding in the bedroom and grab it on my way down the hall to my office.
Marissa: I found your guys. It’s best to email since it’s a lot. I generally don’t comment on the subjects of my research, but can I just say these are not the sharpest tools in the shed?
I consider messing with her, telling her they’re business partners or something. That thought causes me to stop in my tracks. I don’t joke. Maybe with a couple of buddies from the military, but not since. Anni might be lightening me up. I don’t know what to think of that, but joking with a random hacker acquaintance wasn’t on my bingo card.
Me: Glad to have it confirmed. How did you get it done that fast?
Marissa: Caffeine and lack of sleep. Oh, and phoning it in at my day job. You said it was important.
Me: It is. Thanks.
I add my email address and hit send.
Me: Give Morris shit for me.
Marissa: You might be a new favorite. Will do. {Smiley emoji with glasses}
I force myself to look at the schedules of each of the restaurants in the hospitality group and with Barone’s personal team. I call each guy with their new temporary assignments, only losing one to a competitor. Leave it to a bomb to cause a staff reduction.
Once that’s done, I notify HR and payroll and contact each establishment’s manager to inform them of supplemental security coming to their location.
Only then do I open my email. It was perfect motivation to get my shit done so I can move on to what matters most.
What I find blows me away. Full dossiers exist for Smith, Conyers, and Giltenhouse. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Marissa Torres was more than a hacker. How can one person know all of this about another individual? I could probably ask for dental records and she’d provide them. Maybe later, when they’re trying to identify the bodies.
It would be nice if they needed dental records to identify them. But I won’t go that far. I’m lethal, not maniacal. Get in, do what needs to be done, and get out. That’s it.
What I read in their files isn’t chilling or even particularly scary. Stupid, arrogant men are the worst combination. Theirpride thinks they’re untouchable, and they don’t have the self-preservation to set ego aside.
Lucky for me, I’m neither. I know my strengths and I play to them. And on Sunday morning, those strengths will prey on the Lost Mountain Rebels trio and make sure that Annika is never again threatened.
… And that August’s death is avenged.
At one in the afternoon, my stomach growls. Not only am I hungry, but I can smell something delicious cooking. I might as well be those cartoon characters whose noses lead them floating down the hall.
I enter the kitchen to witness Anni dancing at the sink while washing lettuce.
“Hey.”
She jumps and screams, her hand to her chest. “You scared me.”
I put my hands up in adon’t-shootgesture. “Sorry. I wasn’t sneaking up on you. What are you making?”
“Enchiladas. They’re in the oven. I needed to finish the cold stuff, then I was going to bring you a plate. Do you want a fried egg on yours?”
I tilt my head sideways. “What?”
“I saw it somewhere and tried it once. It works. The flavors do. I can’t say it’s authentic. I don’t really know, but it’s good.”
“Sure, Sunshine. Egg me.”
The smile on her face is worth the weird combo.
She finishes the lettuce, tomato, and cilantro, and grabs the egg carton from the fridge just as the oven timer dings.
“Can I help?”
“Sit right there.” She grabs the oven mitts. “I’ve got it. What do you want to drink?”
