Stuart Woods - Hothouse Orchid

“So what do you want me to do about this?” Ross asked.

“You’ve already done the correct thing by bringing this to my attention.”

“You want me to bring it to your attention if this happens again?”

“Yes, please do that. On second thought, bring it to the attention of one of my deputies, Holly Barker. She’s on vacation now, but you can e-mail her through the system. She has an authorized terminal in her present location.”

“Okay, I’ll do that,” Ross said. “Thanks very much.” He got up to go.

“Thank you, Ross. Oh, to what use was this person putting the mainframe?”

“Sorry, I forgot to mention that. It was sort of a background check on a retired army colonel named James Bruno. The user dredged up the record of a court-martial and also went into the Florida Department of Motor Vehicles computer and extracted the guy’s driver’s license application.”

Something sounded familiar to Lance about all this. “Who was court-martialed?”

“This Colonel Bruno.”

“And what were the charges?”

“Rape and attempted rape.”

“Ahhh,” Lance said. “I think I know what this is about, Ross. I’ll deal with this; don’t bother any further with it.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Cabot. See ya.” He gave a little wave and left the office.

Lance turned to his computer and sent an e-mail.

Holly returned from her second day’s training, exhausted again. She had finally gotten a grip on the simulator and was flying it well, but she was still anxious to get into the real airplane. She went into the kitchen to get a beer and a small, green flashing light caught her eye. It was just outside the door of her Agency-provided office, and she hadn’t noticed it before.

She tapped her entry code into the keypad and opened the door. A message was flashing on the monitor of the Agency computer: E-MAIL WAITING.

She logged on and went to her in-box. “Call me. Lance,” the message read. She looked at her watch. He might still be in the office, so she dialed his direct number.

“Lance Cabot,” he said.

“It’s Holly. You rang, master?”

“Yes. I had one of those teenaged geeks up here from computer services this afternoon to tell me about someone from outside the Agency accessing the mainframe.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that someone has been using the mainframe to investigate the background of a retired army colonel named Bruno. That rang a bell.”

“I’m surprised you remember,” she said.

“I remember everything, Holly; never forget that.”

“I’ll try not to. What’s the problem?”

“One of the things I remember was a conversation with you about your personal use of the mainframe.”

“Yes, I remember that, too. When did this incident occur?”

“Today, apparently.”

“I haven’t been on the mainframe today.”

“You aren’t still digging things up about Bruno?”

“I think I already have everything I need to know about his past,” she said. “Right now, he’s a suspect in a series of rapes and murders in this town.”

“Our geek says that someone accessed the mainframe from the Bahamas and then again from Birmingham, Alabama.”

“I’ve never been to Birmingham, Alabama,” she said.

“Actually, he says the user routed through a computer in Birmingham.”

“Was he able to figure out where the original computer is? I mean, the one the user is actually using?”

“No, not yet. Who, besides you, would be interested in the background of Colonel James Bruno?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. I mean, the local and state cops have an interest in him, but I’ve already given them the material on Bruno that I found, and anyway, they wouldn’t have the codes necessary to access the mainframe.”

“The user also accessed the Florida DMV computer and got Bruno’s driver’s license application.”

“Well, this sounds like the cops, but if a Florida police agency can access the CIA mainframe, then I’d say we have a major computer security problem.”

“It can’t be the cops down there,” Lance said. “That’s just too preposterous. It’s got to be one of our people doing this.”

“I think I would agree with that. Certainly, it’s a much less troubling idea for an Agency employee to be using the mainframe for his or her own purposes.”

“Less troubling but annoying,” Lance said. “If you think of anyone else in the Agency who would have an interest in Colonel Bruno, call me.”

“Will do.”

“Good night.” Lance hung up.

Holly hung up, too, baffled.

Teddy Fay lay back and gazed into the face of Lauren Cade, which was contorted with passion. She moved rhythmically up and down on top of him, making little noises, and he moved with her. Then, they both climaxed together and ended up with her in his arms but still locked together.

“That was just wonderful,” she said.

“It certainly was,” he agreed.

“How do you do that?” she asked.

“It seems to me that you were doing the greater part of it.”

“I suppose I was.”

“And doing it extremely well, too.”

She fell sideways and lay tight against him, her head on his shoulder and her leg over his, spilling his seed onto him. “Messy, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I love it. I love your sweat, too.”

“That’s entirely involuntary; it doesn’t require any talent.”

“No, it’s just part of you.” She got up and went into the bathroom. He heard water running, and a moment later she came back with a hot face cloth and wiped down his body.

“The service is very good around here,” Teddy said.

“I’m going to keep it that way,” she replied. “What can I get you?”

“A cold beer, please.”

“Oh, me, too.” She trotted off toward the kitchen.

“There are cold glasses in the freezer,” he called after her.

She returned with two perfectly poured glasses, and he sat up and rearranged the pillows for both of them.

“It’s fun watching you walk around naked,” Teddy said.

“Then I’ll do that a lot.”

They touched glasses and drank the cold lager.

Teddy experienced a rush of feeling for her. He wanted her to never leave his house again, but he could not express this desire. “What are your career plans?” he asked.

“I’ve got four years on the job,” she said, “so I guess I’ll put in at least twenty, for the pension-barring a better offer, of course.”

“What would you consider a better offer?”

“A job with a federal agency, I guess-FBI, DEA, like that.”

“Then you’d have to move,” he pointed out.

“Probably. I suppose they employ agents in Florida, though. I’d like to stay here. Mind you, my new job is something meaningful; it’s better than chasing down speeders on I-95.”

“I suppose it is. You’re a bright woman; you need something that requires intelligence.”

“I do.”

Teddy was trying to think about the future, but it was hard. What was he going to do? Ask her to marry him and run with him when the Agency stumbled across him somewhere? Could he confess to her the murders he’d done, necessary for the welfare of the country though they may have been. Could he ask her to share the risks in his life, to change her identity, to keep moving? He actually enjoyed the chase, but it seemed unlikely that she would. He tried to bring his mind back to the present.

“What about you?” she asked. “Are you going to settle down in Vero Beach?”

“Seems like a nice town,” he said. “So far. Certainly the company is good.”

“How’d you pick Vero anyway?”

“I read something about it somewhere. It’s a nice size-not too big, not too small-and I don’t mind a hot summer.”