way…” Hank was interrupted by a call waiting beep. He checked the caller ID and frowned.
“Mom, I have to take this.”
“Work?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t answer it, Hank. Bad things come in threes and we only have two.”
“I have to.”
“I know you do,” she sighed. “Call me later.”
Hank clicked over to the incoming call.
“What can I do for you, Admiral?”
~~~
“I’ve got a nasty virus. Almost a third of the company is infected.” Julie Trueblood rested her forehead on her fingers as she leaned over her desk.
“Are you going to be able to make it for Christmas?”
Julie never planned on making it to her aunt’s house, though she had plenty of time to fit it in before her trip with Greg. She spun her chair around and watched fat snow flakes falling at an alarming rate over the city of Boston.
“Even if I clean up all the computers, I’m afraid I’d need a fleet of tiny reindeer to pull my sleigh and get me out of the city. What’s your weather like?”
“A little snow, I think. We have a few inches already.”
Julie knew that ‘a little snow’ to her aunt might well be enough to put the entire northeast into a state of emergency. Aunt Gwen was pushing hard for Julie to make it out to Vermont this year, and had extended an open invitation for the long weekend. It was a solid three-hour drive in good weather, and this was anything but.
“I don’t know. Let me run and see what progress I can make on this mess. I’ll give you a call in a couple of hours,” she said, instantly regretting that she hadn’t simply said no.
“Alright, Jules. Best of luck. I can’t wait to see you.”
Julie cringed into the receiver. “Bye, Gwen.”
She turned her attention to the computer in front of her and sighed at the work ahead. Firewalls and anti-virus software could only do so much. Someone was always out to make a better virus that could slip in under the radar and wreak havoc on a stranger’s computer. Or in this case, more than eighty of Systex Corporation’s desktops.
Her morning had been spent identifying the virus and downloading the fix. Now she needed to spend ten minutes on each machine to get it working again. Picking up the phone, she dialed Becky’s extension.
“Becky’s House of Beauty.”
“I need help cleaning up a virus. It’s going to kill the rest of the day.”
“Yee haw! I’ll be right in.”
Julie shook her head and smiled as she replaced the receiver. Becky had been her roommate at MIT, where they both majored in computer science—Julie with a double major in math, Becky with a minor in social work. Becky was good enough at what she did to have Julie’s job, but she lacked the finesse necessary to climb the corporate ladder.
If it bothered Becky that she worked for Julie, she didn’t let on.
“Okay, what are we up against?” asked Becky, walking into Julie’s office without knocking.
“Eighty-one machines, ten minutes to fix each one.”
Becky’s eyes lit and she smiled widely. “I’d say the company should buy us lunch.”
“Deal.” Julie checked her watch. “Let’s get through two-thirds of them before we break, though.”
~~~
The crime scene was easy to find.
The Orange Palm Motel had a turquoise pool, white lounge chairs, and a string of tangerine doors—the overly bright pattern now violently interrupted by a swath of blackened siding. The fire had buckled the roof shingles, blown out the window, and left gray swirling murals of soot and ash on neighboring units.
Hotel guests stood in the parking lot or sat on cars, watching the drama being played out before them like theatergoers staring at a stage. Police milled about behind yellow tape as firemen and EMTs packed up their gear.
There was no one to rescue here.
Hank ducked under the tape and strode toward the charred motel room, flipping open his badge as he was approached by a uniformed officer. Hank shook his head when the other man raised his hand and walked away,
“Mom, I have to take this.”
“Work?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t answer it, Hank. Bad things come in threes and we only have two.”
“I have to.”
“I know you do,” she sighed. “Call me later.”
Hank clicked over to the incoming call.
“What can I do for you, Admiral?”
~~~
“I’ve got a nasty virus. Almost a third of the company is infected.” Julie Trueblood rested her forehead on her fingers as she leaned over her desk.
“Are you going to be able to make it for Christmas?”
Julie never planned on making it to her aunt’s house, though she had plenty of time to fit it in before her trip with Greg. She spun her chair around and watched fat snow flakes falling at an alarming rate over the city of Boston.
“Even if I clean up all the computers, I’m afraid I’d need a fleet of tiny reindeer to pull my sleigh and get me out of the city. What’s your weather like?”
“A little snow, I think. We have a few inches already.”
Julie knew that ‘a little snow’ to her aunt might well be enough to put the entire northeast into a state of emergency. Aunt Gwen was pushing hard for Julie to make it out to Vermont this year, and had extended an open invitation for the long weekend. It was a solid three-hour drive in good weather, and this was anything but.
“I don’t know. Let me run and see what progress I can make on this mess. I’ll give you a call in a couple of hours,” she said, instantly regretting that she hadn’t simply said no.
“Alright, Jules. Best of luck. I can’t wait to see you.”
Julie cringed into the receiver. “Bye, Gwen.”
She turned her attention to the computer in front of her and sighed at the work ahead. Firewalls and anti-virus software could only do so much. Someone was always out to make a better virus that could slip in under the radar and wreak havoc on a stranger’s computer. Or in this case, more than eighty of Systex Corporation’s desktops.
Her morning had been spent identifying the virus and downloading the fix. Now she needed to spend ten minutes on each machine to get it working again. Picking up the phone, she dialed Becky’s extension.
“Becky’s House of Beauty.”
“I need help cleaning up a virus. It’s going to kill the rest of the day.”
“Yee haw! I’ll be right in.”
Julie shook her head and smiled as she replaced the receiver. Becky had been her roommate at MIT, where they both majored in computer science—Julie with a double major in math, Becky with a minor in social work. Becky was good enough at what she did to have Julie’s job, but she lacked the finesse necessary to climb the corporate ladder.
If it bothered Becky that she worked for Julie, she didn’t let on.
“Okay, what are we up against?” asked Becky, walking into Julie’s office without knocking.
“Eighty-one machines, ten minutes to fix each one.”
Becky’s eyes lit and she smiled widely. “I’d say the company should buy us lunch.”
“Deal.” Julie checked her watch. “Let’s get through two-thirds of them before we break, though.”
~~~
The crime scene was easy to find.
The Orange Palm Motel had a turquoise pool, white lounge chairs, and a string of tangerine doors—the overly bright pattern now violently interrupted by a swath of blackened siding. The fire had buckled the roof shingles, blown out the window, and left gray swirling murals of soot and ash on neighboring units.
Hotel guests stood in the parking lot or sat on cars, watching the drama being played out before them like theatergoers staring at a stage. Police milled about behind yellow tape as firemen and EMTs packed up their gear.
There was no one to rescue here.
Hank ducked under the tape and strode toward the charred motel room, flipping open his badge as he was approached by a uniformed officer. Hank shook his head when the other man raised his hand and walked away,
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