Read Online When The Devil Whistles by Rick Acker - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rick Acker
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months ago.”
“Wow.” Mitch pondered for a moment. “Wait a sec, who owns it? The French and the Jews because it’s their gold? The Germans because it’s their sub? Or is it really finders keepers?” He took a sip of coffee and shook his head. “There’s gonna be a huge lawsuit over this.”
Ed’s smile narrowed and a crafty gleam came into his eyes. “Only if someone figures out that we’ve found their gold.”
14
A LLIE TOOK A SIP OF HER FOUR - SHOT VENTI WHITE CHOCOLATE LATTE AND tried again to focus on the spreadsheet on her monitor. She needed to reconcile it against a stack of customer files but was making slow progress. She had done about ten minutes’ worth of work in the hour she’d been in the office.
A bartender had once explained to Allie that pure tequila wouldn’t cause a hangover the next day because of the chemical structure of the sugars in the liquor. Based on extensive experience since then, Allie had concluded that the bartender was a liar trying to sell her pure tequila, which was a lot more expensive than the mixto stuff bars ordinarily use. Either that or lime juice caused pounding hangovers.
Whatever caused her hangover, the result was impressive. It hurt to stand up, it hurt to sit down, it hurt to think, and it hurt to talk. It even hurt to blink.
“Allie, please come with me,” said a woman’s voice behind her.
Allie jumped and turned to see her supervisor, a large and open-faced Hispanic woman named Sabrina.
“Hi, Sabrina. You startled me.” She pointed at the screen and smiled, trying hard not to wince. “These spreadsheets are a little too interesting, I guess.” Lame, but it never hurt to make sure her temporary employers knew they’d caught her working when they surprised her. They’d be less likely to keep a close eye on her in the future.
Sabrina didn’t smile back. “Uh-huh.”
They know! Panic shot through Allie, cutting straight through the hangover fog. She froze. Had she copied any hard files? No. Had she downloaded any of the screwed up on-line files she found? No. Had she accessed any locked files? No, but she had started looking for them. She’d had that secure server up on her computer screen last night—had she left it on? She couldn’t quite remember. Think! Think! Think!
“Allie?” prompted Sabrina.
“Yes?”
“Could you come with me, please?”
“Oh, uh, okay. Just let me close out of this and I’ll be right there.”
“Don’t worry about it. You can finish what you’re doing later.”
“Um, all right.”
Allie stood slowly and followed Sabrina down the hall, several sets of eyes following her as she went. At least there were witnesses in case she never came back. She caught herself and smiled. Maybe she was being just a touch melodramatic.
Then she remembered that she had indeed turned off her computer last night. Her smile widened and the lump of ice in her stomach began to melt. She hadn’t done anything remotely suspicious. Maybe this was nothing. In fact, it almost had to be.
She had mostly relaxed by the time Sabrina stopped at a conference room, gave a tight smile, and motioned for her to go in.
Allie returned her smile and walked in. Two men sat at a medium-sized oak table. One was Sanford “Sandy” Allen, one of the founders of Blue Sea. He had thick white hair and a wide, lined face that had made Allie think “grandfather” the first time she met him. Her only interaction with him had been on her first morning at Blue Sea. Sandy had greeted her and the other new temps and told them a few funny but pointless stories before turning them over to Sabrina.
He looked more like a prison warden than a grandfather today, and he frowned as she entered. The other man in the room was a younger, but equally grim, Asian with a crew cut. Allie didn’t think she’d met him before.
She heard the door shut behind her and Mr. Allen said. “Have a seat, Miss Whitman.”
Allie picked a chair near the door and perched on its edge, the ice
“Wow.” Mitch pondered for a moment. “Wait a sec, who owns it? The French and the Jews because it’s their gold? The Germans because it’s their sub? Or is it really finders keepers?” He took a sip of coffee and shook his head. “There’s gonna be a huge lawsuit over this.”
Ed’s smile narrowed and a crafty gleam came into his eyes. “Only if someone figures out that we’ve found their gold.”
14
A LLIE TOOK A SIP OF HER FOUR - SHOT VENTI WHITE CHOCOLATE LATTE AND tried again to focus on the spreadsheet on her monitor. She needed to reconcile it against a stack of customer files but was making slow progress. She had done about ten minutes’ worth of work in the hour she’d been in the office.
A bartender had once explained to Allie that pure tequila wouldn’t cause a hangover the next day because of the chemical structure of the sugars in the liquor. Based on extensive experience since then, Allie had concluded that the bartender was a liar trying to sell her pure tequila, which was a lot more expensive than the mixto stuff bars ordinarily use. Either that or lime juice caused pounding hangovers.
Whatever caused her hangover, the result was impressive. It hurt to stand up, it hurt to sit down, it hurt to think, and it hurt to talk. It even hurt to blink.
“Allie, please come with me,” said a woman’s voice behind her.
Allie jumped and turned to see her supervisor, a large and open-faced Hispanic woman named Sabrina.
“Hi, Sabrina. You startled me.” She pointed at the screen and smiled, trying hard not to wince. “These spreadsheets are a little too interesting, I guess.” Lame, but it never hurt to make sure her temporary employers knew they’d caught her working when they surprised her. They’d be less likely to keep a close eye on her in the future.
Sabrina didn’t smile back. “Uh-huh.”
They know! Panic shot through Allie, cutting straight through the hangover fog. She froze. Had she copied any hard files? No. Had she downloaded any of the screwed up on-line files she found? No. Had she accessed any locked files? No, but she had started looking for them. She’d had that secure server up on her computer screen last night—had she left it on? She couldn’t quite remember. Think! Think! Think!
“Allie?” prompted Sabrina.
“Yes?”
“Could you come with me, please?”
“Oh, uh, okay. Just let me close out of this and I’ll be right there.”
“Don’t worry about it. You can finish what you’re doing later.”
“Um, all right.”
Allie stood slowly and followed Sabrina down the hall, several sets of eyes following her as she went. At least there were witnesses in case she never came back. She caught herself and smiled. Maybe she was being just a touch melodramatic.
Then she remembered that she had indeed turned off her computer last night. Her smile widened and the lump of ice in her stomach began to melt. She hadn’t done anything remotely suspicious. Maybe this was nothing. In fact, it almost had to be.
She had mostly relaxed by the time Sabrina stopped at a conference room, gave a tight smile, and motioned for her to go in.
Allie returned her smile and walked in. Two men sat at a medium-sized oak table. One was Sanford “Sandy” Allen, one of the founders of Blue Sea. He had thick white hair and a wide, lined face that had made Allie think “grandfather” the first time she met him. Her only interaction with him had been on her first morning at Blue Sea. Sandy had greeted her and the other new temps and told them a few funny but pointless stories before turning them over to Sabrina.
He looked more like a prison warden than a grandfather today, and he frowned as she entered. The other man in the room was a younger, but equally grim, Asian with a crew cut. Allie didn’t think she’d met him before.
She heard the door shut behind her and Mr. Allen said. “Have a seat, Miss Whitman.”
Allie picked a chair near the door and perched on its edge, the ice
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