“You know you shouldn’t be back here,” Weigel said.
“Leave him alone,” Holloway said. She reached out and caught some of Shaw’s hair. “Now don’t tell me Davey makes you wear your hair like this?”
“Oh.” Shaw let his expression fall. “I was, um, really bad. One time. And Davey cut my hair. It was for my own good. You know, he had to teach me a lesson.”
“Child,” Weigel said. “Why don’t you call Davey and tell him to come down here?”
“Do you want to see what my hair used to look like? It was really long. Oh, that’s a picture of a mole on Davey’s back that I think might be cancerous. And that’s a carousel horse, but the carousel’s gone, so I guess maybe it’s just a regular horse now. But out of wood. And that’s—”
“Just a giant baby,” Holloway said to herself again, both women turning away from the lobby to face Shaw, leaning closer to look at the pictures on his phone. He glanced up just once, over their heads, as North sprinted silently across the tile. Then he went back to the patter, dragging it out until North rode the elevator up and Shaw guessed that several minutes had passed.
“Anyway,” Shaw said, “I guess I’d better go see Chris. Chris Hobson. He’s my cousin; he lives in 8A.”
“Sweety pie,” Holloway said, “you got to get this Davey out of your life. He’s got some bad energy.”
“I say call him,” Weigel said. “Get him down here and let the two of us talk to him for a few minutes. That boy won’t ever trouble you again.”
“And drink that Coke,” Holloway said. “I think I’ve got a Kind bar in my purse. You’re too thin; don’t listen to that boy.”
“Drink that Coke right up,” Weigel said as she grabbed the desk phone. “What’s your cousin know about all this?”
“Oh, he and Davey don’t get along at all. That’s the whole reason I came over tonight; Chris wants to talk about it.”
The women exchanged knowing looks.
“Uh huh,” Holloway said, fluffing Shaw’s hair again. “Listen to your cousin, Max. You’re too pretty to waste on a jerk like Davey.”
“Mr. Hobson? Yes, I’ve got your cousin Max—yes, sir. I’ll send him right up.”
It took a little longer, but Shaw finally managed to extricate himself and ride the elevator up. He found the door to 8A unlocked, and when he stepped inside, North was waiting near the landline phone where he’d answered the call from the security desk and told them to let Shaw into the building.
“What the absolute fuck was all that fuckery?”
“I got a Coke!”
“You’ve got an abusive boyfriend named Davey? Jesus fucking Christ, Shaw. I didn’t say you couldn’t buy that stupid fucking cloak. My exact words were, ‘I don’t think you’ll wear it very much, so I don’t think it’s worth the money.’ And I didn’t say you couldn’t get tattoos or have your nipples pierced. I said maybe you should think about the fact that you don’t like needles and having the script of Memento tattooed over every inch of your body might be a decision you regret in a few months.”
“I—”
“And if you say one fucking word about that Coke, I’m going to lose my fucking shit.”
North’s shit looked pretty lost already, so Shaw just sipped the cola and nodded. “It’s been a hard night. Your penis. Those cutoffs.”
North’s fists clenched at his sides. Then he turned slowly and stalked down the hall.
The condo looked like it had come straight out of a CB2 catalogue: sinuously modern furniture, glass and teak, the occasional bleached wicker and white-varnished rattan piece. It even smelled store-bought, like all-purpose cleaner and artificial lavender. Sliding glass doors opened onto a balcony overlooking the park: asphalt ribbons, the arched backs of stone bridges, winter-brown grass rippling like water.
Shaw and North pulled on disposable gloves and moved quickly through the unit. They couldn’t toss the place the way they normally would have, but they still managed to work efficiently, dividing the rooms without speaking, each man methodical in his search.
North found the safe hidden on the bookshelf. It had a cover designed to look like a row of books, and it was surprisingly good—from a distance. With the cover pulled back, a keypad and lock were visible. They tested keys on the lock until one of them turned, and the safe’s door swung open.
“Computer,” North said as he drew several external hard drives from the safe.
“Got it,” Shaw said, already powering up the laptop. A login screen appeared, and Shaw typed in the Aldrich Acquisitions administrator password—provided courtesy of his father, who also happened to be their most valuable client. After an uncertain flicker, the screen changed, and Shaw had access to Chris Hobson’s computer.
After scrolling quickly through the files, Shaw said, “Nothing obvious.”
“It’s corporate espionage,” North said as he plugged in the first external hard drive. “He’s been smart enough so far not to leave a trail of bread crumbs. That’s why we’re here.”
“So far,” Shaw said with a smirk. A new window popped up, showing the contents of the hard drive that North had just connected. “Porn.”
“Tentacle porn,” North corrected.
“You really shouldn’t judge—oh.” Shaw cut off when North double-clicked one of the files. He covered his eyes and then peeked between two fingers. “I didn’t know he could fit so many inside him.”
North was already disconnecting the drive. He plugged in the next one.
“This is it,” Shaw said as he looked at the files.
“Make a nice, obvious folder to stash it all. Something like ‘Chris’s Secret Stuff – DO NOT TOUCH.’”
Instead, Shaw burrowed into the computer’s main drive, created an unnamed folder, altered the properties so that it was hidden, and copied over the contents of the hard drive. It was a lot of data, and it took several minutes. While they waited, he sent a text to their contact at Aldrich Acquisitions—a woman named Haw Ryeo.
Everything uploaded.
Haw didn’t respond, but Shaw knew how things would go: Hobson’s computer, which was technically company property, would be inspected immediately. The stolen files and documents would be found, providing grounds for a warrant. In their search of the condo, the police would find the hard drives. Hobson would go to prison, and Aldrich Acquisitions would maintain control of millions of dollars’ worth of intellectual property.
“Done?” North asked.
Shaw nodded.
While North disconnected the cables and returned the hard drives to the safe, Shaw powered down the computer. They locked up the condo, took the fire stairs, and let themselves out through a service door. Shaw sent another text, and Pari met them on the same street corner.
“He touched Truck’s butt,” Pari informed them as she accepted Hobson’s keys.