Mark Del Franco - Face Off

She had to shake it off, though. The afternoon was going to be her first foray into Legacy, and she had to remain focused on impersonating Fallon Moor. Instead of returning to the Guildhouse, she had swapped out the Mariel glamour for the newly created Moor. A short walk up the block to where InterSec had moved Moor’s car, and she was on her way to work, whatever that meant.

The Legacy Foundation occupied offices in a nondescript building in Crystal City, across the river from downtown D.C. Laura drove Moor’s car into the building’s underground garage and found the section of reserved parking spaces for Legacy. She killed the engine and made a fuss of fixing her hair in the rearview mirror. Watching security tapes of Moor tipped her to the nervous habit. Or vain one. She gathered a bulky purse onto her lap and rummaged through it for Moor’s keys and an ID card.

I’ve arrived, she sent to Terryn.

Reconnaissance only, please, unless a viable opportunity arises, he replied.

Despite the fact that Moor kept few files of interest at home, Terryn wanted Laura to keep a low profile the first day in the office, confirm Moor’s data sources, and investigate other avenues to explore. A hard insertion with little prep was risky, but despite Draigen’s imminent arrival, they did not want to blow her cover by moving too aggressively the first time out.

As she walked across the garage, she pictured Terryn working in the Guildhouse a few miles away. In the basement holding area, Moor remained in glass-lined enclosures to prevent her from doing sendings. Terryn waited outside her cell so he could relay Laura’s questions if necessary to Moor by intercom and send the responses back.

A whistled catcall echoed through the concrete space of the garage. At the far end, men loitered in a service area reserved for limos and black cars. They wore nonchalant smirks as they eyeballed her. With his height, Sinclair stood out from the others. He was smirking, too. She liked to think he was doing it to fit in, but it wouldn’t have surprised her if he was the one who’d whistled. Instead of scowling, she smiled self-consciously as she turned away, aware by now that Moor was more than a little vain.

As the elevator doors opened on the twelfth floor, Laura took a deep breath and proceeded down the hall. This moment always gave her a trickle of anxiety. A glamour she created from her own imagination was malleable, with a look, history, and personality able to change according to circumstances. A glamour based on a real person was tougher. She was going to meet people who knew Fallon Moor, and Fallon Moor moved in a high-stakes world. A false step could be deadly.

The hushed quiet of the offices was like other places she had worked—cold, sterile rooms decorated to look fashionable and comfortable but with a manufactured air. No true personality interfered. Over time, the blandness of certain places had become a first indication that something wasn’t right, that something other than the stated business at hand was going on. Secrets were about what was revealed as much as what was hidden. On an individual level, hiding one thing among many exposed ones was easy, but that didn’t work as well for a corporation. Better to hide everything than risk leaving a clue.

She received mumbled greetings and sideways glances as she made her way to Moor’s office. No one stopped her to chat. She worried that she might be doing something wrong, tipping off that something was not right about Moor. But the behavior was consistent with everyone. I’m getting the sense our informant isn’t the most popular kid on the block, she sent to Terryn.

She’s not making many friends here either, he replied.

Laura smiled at his response. Terryn’s humor tended to be dry and subtle, but lately it had been missing entirely. It was nice to hear him sound normal.

The windows in Moor’s office provided an impressive view of the Potomac and D.C. The river meandered below as if underlining the spread of the city’s iconic buildings. While it wasn’t the usual coveted corner office, Laura thought it interesting that Moor had achieved some level of importance within Legacy.

She sat at the desk, pulled the computer keyboard closer, and logged on to the network system. So far, so good, she thought. The user ID and password were correct, so Moor hadn’t played any petty games on that front. She searched the network, scrolling through directories to note where Moor had open access. Terryn wanted her to use the day for surveillance and not touch anything until they assessed what was interesting and available. Copying and transferring data might be noticed, maybe not right away; but they didn’t want to risk it until they had decided what they needed.

At the sound of knock, she lifted her head toward the door. She recognized the dark-haired man standing there as Adam DeWinter from the staff dossiers InterSec had for Legacy. He was listed as the firm’s director of technology and president, which was true. What was not on the company letterhead was that he was ex-CIA with extensive security experience.

With a friendly, chastising smile, he leaned against the doorjamb. “You didn’t return my phone calls.”

Feigning surprise, she picked up her cell phone and scrolled through the messages. Moor wasn’t in the habit of logging in her contact names. Few calls came in on the line anyway. The one number that appeared often was a disposable cell, which Laura assumed now must have been DeWinter. “Really? I’m sorry. I had some things to take care of and forgot to check my messages.”

DeWinter pushed himself with his shoulder off the doorjamb and sat on the edge of her desk. “More important than talking to me?”

His tone had an undercurrent of seduction. Cocky and self-assured. A little too self-assured. His familiar attitude wasn’t simple office banter. Laura twisted her lips in a playful smirk. “Are you feeling neglected?”

He chuckled. “Should I?”

I think Moor held back a relationship with DeWinter. Ask her the status, she sent to Terryn.

Laura leaned back and smiled at DeWinter. “Of course not. I think we both know where things stand.”

Amused, he dropped his eyelids half-closed. “I wasn’t thinking of standing.”

Lovers. We’re having a discussion about what else she might have neglected to mention, Terryn sent.

Laura mentally swore. She had no delusion that Moor was being fully cooperative, but risking exposing her like this was skating close to the edge of breaching their deal. She leaned forward and slowly drew her finger across the back of DeWinter’s palm. “You’d be surprised what I can do standing.”

He playfully tapped her on the nose. “Someone’s going to hear us.”

She affected an innocent air. “I didn’t say anything.”

Amused, he moved back to the front of the desk. “I want to go over some financial details before my meeting.”

Laura bit her lip and checked her watch. “Can you give me a few minutes? I need to get something out.”

A puzzled look came over DeWinter’s face. “Sure. I’ll be in my office.”

He hesitated at the door. Laura threw him a seductive glance as she turned her attention to the computer screen. DeWinter left a moment later. She checked the company calendar to see if his scheduled meeting might give her a clue as to what he wanted. Nothing but his name and a reserved conference room.

She ran through the rest of the network directories, tapping into her mnemonic memory skills as the files scrolled up the screen. Her recall was as much a skill as an ability, honed in her youth as part of her druid training. Nothing out of the ordinary jumped to her attention, typical corporate network setup. She hit a password-protected directory that she wasn’t automatically logged in to. She tried the user ID and password Moor had given her, but they were rejected. She didn’t try again.