Kathy Reichs - Code

My lips parted, but words didn’t form. What was this guy’s problem?

The elevator beeped our arrival on the third floor. The door opened, and Iglehart strode out without a backward glance.

“Don’t mind him.” Anders actually winked. “Mike came to LIRI about the same time as your dad, and hasn’t exactly flown up the corporate ladder. Chalk the attitude up to sour grapes.”

“No sweat.” I tried for breezy, found myself standing straighter in response to Ander’s undivided attention. “Have a good one.”

“I’m dissecting a three-week-old turtle carcass,” Anders said as the doors slowly closed. “How could I not?”

“ Have a good one ,” I repeated to the empty car. “You’re such a dork, Brennan.”

The elevator continued to the top floor. I exited into a short hallway leading to a pair of frosted-glass doors. The director’s suite. Under Karsten, this whole area had been a ghost town. Abhorring distraction, he’d kept every office empty but his own.

Not so, Kit. The floor now hummed with activity, every workspace occupied or held open for guest researchers. Inside the director’s suite, Kit had assembled LIRI’s business-side officers. Fund-raising. Marketing. Public Relations. Trust Management.

I’d once asked Kit why he put up with so much distraction in his suite. “Better the pencil pushers are jammed in with me than bothering active scientists,” he reasoned. “And I want these people out here on Loggerhead, not in cozy downtown high-rises. It’ll help them remember what we’re actually doing.”

Passing through the doors, I encountered my last obstacle: Cordelia Hoke.

The Dragon.

Under Karsten, Hoke had been the only other employee stationed on the fourth floor. Though less than pleased by Kit’s disruption of her once-private kingdom, she tried to keep it to herself. And usually failed.

Hoke as Kit’s personal secretary? My guess, he was too chicken to let her go.

Kit had tried to stop Hoke’s hourly puff break—LIRI was, and always had been, a smoke-free facility—but even I knew she still snuck a cig every chance she got. But that was less than under the previous regime.

The nicotine cutback hadn’t improved the Dragon’s temperament. She glared at me over the rims of her bifocals.

“May I help you, Tory?” Her tone suggested the opposite intent.

“I was hoping to snag Kit for a moment.”

“Your father’s very busy.” Hoke shifted her impressive bulk, wiping cookie crumbs from the sleeves of her ragged cashmere sweater. She had one for each day of the week. Today was violet. “He can’t come running every time you stub a toe.”

Grrrr .

“I’d like to speak with him about his dinner plans.”

Blank face. No response.

“So that I can make my dinner plans.”

Nothing.

“Look, just tell my dad I’m here.”

Hoke’s face darkened. “Honey, in my day a young lady didn’t speak to her elders like that. We were taught manners .”

I was about to further reduce her opinion of my upbringing when the shade to Kit’s office rose. My father stood on the opposite side of the glass, phone to ear, a bored expression on his face. His charcoal suit and maroon tie were a far cry from the scuffed white lab coat that, until this year, he’d worn every working day of his life.

Kit made “can’t talk now, I’m tied up, please feed yourself” motions with his hands. Nodding, I waved good-bye.

Kit shook his head ruefully, mouthed, “Sorry.”

I gave him a thumbs-up, smiling to convey my understanding.

Hoke cleared her throat. “Will there be anything else?”

“Nope.” I was already headed for the door.

CHAPTER 4

DR. MICHAEL IGLEHART strode the hall, ignoring his companion.

Dr. Sundberg prattled on about login issues and allocating server space, but Iglehart had checked out.

The Brennan girl rankled him. Now he had an errand to complete.

“I can only offer runtime after hours,” Sundberg continued. “The backup is temporary—we’ll have expansion packs in place by early next month. Dr. Howard has signed orders doubling our computing capacity.”

“Wonderful.” Choking back the bile in his throat.

Having to ask Anders Sundberg for permission was insult enough. Needing Kit Howard’s authority was almost intolerable.

Life is never fair. Ever .

Iglehart had joined LIRI before either of these imbeciles. The three of them had nearly identical CVs. Now one ran his department, and the other headed the entire freaking institute!

And why? Because Kit Howard found a treasure in some sinkhole.

And what, pray, for Dr. Iglehart? Nothing. Zilch. Nada. The two frauds assumed he’d be grateful just to retain his position.

On that count, they’d miscalculated. Badly.

“Mike?”

Iglehart’s attention snapped back to the present. He’d walked right past the conference room.

“Staff meetings still take place in here.” Sundberg grinned, holding the door. “And don’t worry about Triton, we’ll get you squared away.”

Iglehart forced a smile. “Sorry. I’ve forgotten a file I’ll need. Won’t be a moment.”

“Sure.” Sundberg waved a hand. “I can hold off for five. Take your time.”

“Thanks.” Such graciousness from his lordship . “Back in two shakes.”

Iglehart hurried to his phone booth–sized office and pressed the space bar on his computer.

How he hated the cramped, windowless dungeon. Metal desk. Straight back chair. Soulless institutional bookshelves. Never enough space. To do any real research, he was forced to hunt for open conference rooms.

Which meant endless interruptions by the idiots working around him. Idiots with bigger offices. Galling.

So he’d taken steps. Howard and Sundberg thought him content to eat whatever scraps fell from their tables? Think again.

Howard had been director for two months, yet here Iglehart remained. Stuck in a broom closet with a second-rate Dell.

Not for long .

Agitated, he tapped the keyboard again. The institute’s logo finally appeared on-screen. Entering the backdoor code he’d been given in secret, Iglehart accessed LIRI’s mail server and deactivated the security protocols. Safely off the grid, he began to type.

The email was short and to the point. He knew what his contact wanted, even if the reasoning escaped him.

Iglehart pressed send, reset the protocols, and slapped his laptop shut.

You shouldn’t have ignored me, Kit .

Wearing a satisfied smirk, Iglehart hurried to meet the coworkers he despised.

CHAPTER 5

I SENSED TROUBLE the moment I turned my key.

Coop shot inside and up the short flight of stairs to our town-home’s small living room. Where he froze, tail erect and bristling.

Only one thing caused that reaction in my wolfdog: Kit’s gal pal.

Blargh .

I trudged up the steps to see Whitney Dubois scootched to one end of my couch, eyeing Coop as she might an intruding ax murderer.

Mascaraed eyes darted in my direction. “Tory, control this creature!”

“Relax.” I clicked my tongue. Coop glanced my way, padded to his doggie bed, circled three times, and sat. “He’s just surprised to find you here. In our house. Alone. Unannounced.”

“I came to feed you.” Manicured hands poofed her salon-blonde hair. “Lord knows what you’ve been eating lately. Your daddy spends far too much time at work. And on the weekend, no less!”

“Kit’s the director,” I said flatly. “It’s a demanding position.”

“But that makes him the boss.” Whitney’s nose crinkled as her deep blue eyes filled with incomprehension. “Can’t he leave whenever he wants?”