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prepared, and he wants you to continue to focus on your division. The road show is at the end of this month, so you’ll need to have some intense meetings with Art. I’ll take care of the rest.”
    Dylan was being cut out of the game, and he didn’t like it. “Jesus, Christine. This is just stupid.”
    Christine didn’t say anything. She sat across from him. Staring. Silent. Smiling.
    Dylan stared back. “You’re making a mistake. A big mistake.” He shook his head. “But Art’s the boss. I’ll pull together some material for him. But don’t blame me if he gets blindsided by a technical question he can’t answer.”
    â€œThat’s just it, Dylan. I will blame you,” Christine said, standing up. “Thank you, Dylan.” She held out a hand.
    Dylan did not take it. “I’m returning to New York.” He felt her stare burning into his back as he turned to leave the office.
    â€œHave a safe trip,” Christine said, and returned her attention to the computer.
    Dylan walked out of the office in a daze.
    * * *
    April 6, 4:00 p.m. Boston
    Dylan’s mind replayed the meeting with Christine over and over. His anger continued to rise. He paced back and forth in the elevator as it climbed up two floors to the nerd herd, where he sought out Tony. There was no mistaking this was where the technologists liked to hang out. The open space found on the other floors wasn’t open here at all. Clutter defined the area, with boxes piled against walls and chairs, bookshelves in a state of disarray, small mechanical devices in various states of creation spread everywhere—a hoarder’s paradise. Most boxes were unopened and contained computers, assorted cell phones, smartphone components, plasma screens, routers, printers, and other equipment. The rest were empty pizza boxes. By the elevator, a poster showed a man dressed in a suit in a circle with a slash painted over it.
    Dylan walked towards Tony’s office. As he turned the corner, a small, silver robotic dog bounced off his right foot.
    â€œAh, sorry dude,” said a young man with a pierced nose and orange hair holding the remote control. Dylan didn’t know his name, but he’d seen him before. Enormously talented, the young man had a reputation for playing during the day and working all night. He also changed his hair color every week. Last week was his purple period.
    Dylan said nothing as he stepped over the metallic dog. He heard it skitter across the hardwood floor and down the hallway behind him. Dylan walked to Tony’s office and glanced inside. Empty.
    â€œDylan!”
    Dylan looked up and saw Rich walking towards him with a stack of papers in his hand. Since the acquisition, Rich was now working under Christine.
    â€œYou okay?” asked Rich. When he got no answer, he caught Dylan by the elbow and steered him into Tony’s workspace. “What’s up?”
    â€œNothing.” Dylan pulled himself together. Unsure of the working relationship between Rich and Christine, Dylan decided this wasn’t something to talk about with Rich. “Where the hell is Tony?”
    â€œThat’s what I was wondering. I came up here to find him. He hasn’t submitted his time and expenses for two months.”
    â€œJesus,” muttered Dylan. He looked around the mess that was Tony’s workspace. It was just as well he was not there. It was a mistake to come running to him when something went wrong with his job. Things were different now. Better to tough it out.
    â€œHow’s it going, working under Christine?” asked Dylan.
    Rich shrugged. “She’s a first-class S.O.B. Or would that be D.O.B.? But she gets it done. I wouldn’t fuck with her, though, if I were you.”
    â€œPerish the thought.” Dylan headed back to his office.

Chapter 7
    April 18, 5:00 p.m. New York
    Art walked into Christine’s office and closed the