Angel's Breath (Fallen Angels - Book 2) (3 page)

“I guess.” I took a step inside the room. “What are you playing?”

“Just a racing game. Wanna try?”

I shook my head. “I’ve never really liked video games,” I said. “They give me a headache.”

“Right.” Chuck gave me a little nod and pointed to his eyes. “The flashing lights.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s gotta suck.”

In the few times I had been over, Chuck had never seemed abashed or apologetic about his forward manner. He didn’t go out of his way to offend anyone with his comments or remarks, but it didn’t seem to bother him if someone took it the wrong way. If they took offense, it was their problem, not his. In a way, it made me feel a little more relaxed around him.

I let out a dry laugh. “Sometimes it does suck.”

Giving me a wry smile, Chuck got off the sofa. “I was just going to grab another beer. Want one?”

“Thanks, but no. I should probably head back upstairs. Six o’clock comes pretty early.”

“Work,” Chuck said as he edged past me on the way to the kitchen. “Ugh.” After a moment, he gave me a sidelong glance. “You’re at Worldwind Avionics, right?”

“Yeah.” Then I added in a lower voice, “My mother got me the job after I—” I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was talking to him about my time away. “It’s just temporary until I can find something better.”

“I think Stacy mentioned something about you being a janitor there?”

“I’m on the maintenance staff, actually. Move things around, change light bulbs, odd jobs like that. It’s honest work,” I said, perhaps a little too defensively.

Chuck pulled a beer out of the fridge and popped the cap. He took a swig and held his hands up. “Hey, I’ve done crappier jobs than that. If it keeps your fridge stocked with beer, what’s the difference?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Conversationally, he asked, “So, what’s the big plan? I mean, have you thought about what you’re going to do with the rest of your life?” When I shot him an alarmed look, he shrugged and lifted one eyebrow. “Hey, you’re dating my baby sister and everything. Just looking out for her, you know. You and I never really sat down and talked.”

“Well,” I said, drawing my words out. “When I was a kid, I always wanted to be a pilot. But that was a stupid phase or something.”

“Why didn’t you go for it?” Chuck took another swig of beer. “Because of your eyes again?”

“That and I’m afraid of flying.”

Chuck spat out a mouthful of beer and laughed. Then he saw that I was serious.

“Really?” he asked.

I lifted my shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “I get the sweats when I think about being in a plane.”

He pointed his finger to punctuate his statement. “Dude, you work at an airport. How whacked is that?”

Starting to get uneasy with the conversation focused on me, I said, “So, what about you?”

It occurred to me that I didn’t know what Chuck did for a living. I didn’t recall Stacy mentioning much about it. Whatever it was, he either did shift work, or made his own schedule. It was a weeknight, and he was up playing video games until the small hours.

He made a puzzled face. “I have no problem with heights.”

I blinked, not understanding his answer right away. Then I said, “No. I meant, what do you do? For work?”

Eyes brightening, he smiled. “Let me show you.”

With that, he quickly walked past me to the door leading into the basement of the condo. I hadn’t been down there, and never guessed that it was used for more than a storage or laundry room.

Half the room was filled with metal shelving containing computer towers, printers and monitors. Several laptops rested on two workbenches, and there was one low-backed office chair on a thick plastic floor mat. All the machines were on, and the screens flickered with rolling text.

I was never much of a technology junkie, so I had no idea what I was looking at. “Are you a web designer or something?”

Chuck laughed. “Not a chance. Tried that once; wanted to throttle every last one of my clients.”

Glancing at several monitors one at a time, I couldn’t interpret what I was looking at. “Stock market?” I asked, pointing to a column of words that changed every few seconds.

“Good guess. Close, but not really.” He sat in the chair and rolled up to one of the laptops. Whipping his finger along the touchpad, he brought up a new screen for me to look at.

There were dozens of subject lines that, at first, made no sense to me: “Requested Docs”, “Updated Specs”, “Sell Sheet”, “Communication Approval Form”, “Contact for Certification Board”, “Shipment Delay Notification”, and many more.

“Email headers,” Chuck said, gesturing to the screen. “Look. Let me open one for you.”

* * *

Subject: Upcoming Teleconference.

As we continue to increase momentum on the agreements with Xi’an Industries, the management team would like to have a regional conference call with all production heads to go over the new procedures and manufacturing guidelines sent over from the Chinese Safety Commission. It is mandatory that all shift supervisors attend.

* * *

“Are you a hacker or something?” I asked, blurting it out. Immediately, I chastised myself, not because of the possibility that Chuck might take it as an insult, but because I had forgotten the most important lesson I learned in prison: keep your mouth shut.

He shot me a sharp look. “You cool?”

I composed myself and spoke in a casual voice. “Yeah.” I wasn’t a rat.

“Hacker crap is for pimply teenagers and spammers. I consider myself more of an internet Samurai, a web warrior, an online outlaw.”

Clearly, he was proud of himself, and wanted me to appreciate what he could do, though I wasn’t certain I understood what that was exactly. “This isn’t a credit card thing, is it?” I asked, mostly being polite. I really didn’t want to know any more about what Chuck was doing than I already did.

“Are you kidding?” he said, smiling. “That’s for amateurs. No, what I’m doing is levels beyond that. I’m data mining, sure, but why bother Joe Ordinary, or scam Grandma and Grandpa out of their Social Security? Too easy to get caught with that. And you’d get crucified if you went to trial. No, we live in an information age, and information is king.”

I wasn’t following, and it must have shown in my face.

Chuck pointed to the email message. “These guys are expanding their market territory and increasing production. Maybe that’s information their competition would like to know? Or their suppliers? Or stockholders.”

I found myself asking, “You mean, insider trading?”

Putting his hand on his chest, Chuck said, “I don’t invest anything personally. There’s too much of a paper trail. And too much risk…” He made a face. Then he said, “But I have a few contacts who would be happy to pay big bucks for a head start on the markets.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you telling me all this?”

Swiveling in his chair to face me, he sized me up. “Didn’t you read that email?” He jerked his thumb to the laptop screen.

“Sort of.”

“Look closer. Look who it’s from.”

I leaned over and, despite the glare from the screen, which hurt my eyes, I read the sender’s name: David Matheson, VP Worldwind Avionics.

I stared at Chuck. “My mother is his secretary—I mean, administrative assistant—whatever. He’s the one who got me my job.” I couldn’t process the fact that my new girlfriend’s brother had hacked into my mother’s boss’s emails.

“I figured,” he said.

I took a step back and narrowed my eyes. “Is this a setup or something?”

“Nah, man. Chill,” Chuck said, putting up his hands.

“Is Stace in on this?”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing to be ‘in’ on. She thinks I still design websites and write code for shopping cart programs,” he said, pointing at the laptop screen. “What, you thought I wouldn’t check up on you? That’s what led me to Worldwind.”

With a chuckle, he turned back to his laptop. After punching in a few commands, another window popped up. It was a copy of my release papers from the Department of Corrections.

I felt a sudden anger at the invasion of my privacy, and I could feel myself flush from the emotion.

As if sensing the change in my mood, Chuck said, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, man. We’re cool. That’s why I brought you down here. I know about you; now you know about me. It’s only fair, right? All our cards on the table and all that.”

I wasn’t convinced, but I said, “Yeah, I guess,” anyway.

Chuck turned back to me. “Stacy likes you.”

I felt a different kind of heat rise in my cheeks. “I like her, too.”

“Just want to be straight with you.” There was a grave quality to Chuck’s words. “She and I are all we have. Our folks died when we were kids, and we don’t have any other living relatives. The state tried to send us off to different foster homes. We fought them, and stuck together. We watch each other’s back.”

“I get you,” I said.

Then Chuck smiled wide. “Hey, look at me, getting all serious and shit. Just give me the Big Brother of the Year award right now, right?”

He laughed, and I felt my anger fade.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s getting late, and if I don’t get some sleep, I’m going to be hurting tomorrow.”

“No problem,” Chuck said.

Before I could turn around to leave, he spoke again. His words had a casualness to them that I thought was forced. “I can’t always get what I need through the web, you know?”

I paused and shook my head. “Not really.”

“Well, if someone’s computer is hooked up to a router or something with an internet connection, then it’s just a matter of time before I can get into their system.” He turned back to his laptop. “But if they have something on a stand-alone machine with an independent connection, well, the info might as well be on the moon.”

“I’m not really sure what you mean,” I said.

“It’s a funny thing.” He spun around in his chair to face me, and folded his hands across his stomach. “I started looking in on Worldwind just because I was checking up on you, but a couple of days ago, I came across a posting on one of my job boards. Seems your company is working on something new, and security is very tight. The client wants to know what’s going on behind closed doors, and he’s offering some hard-core bucks to find out. I’m talking life-changing money, if you know what I mean. That’s why I’ve been digging.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know anything about what they do there, besides build jets. I just run errands.”

A half-smile appeared on his face. “Yeah, but you might have an idea where they would keep this information.”

I was feeling more than a little defensive. “How would I know that?”

“Maybe there’s a secured filing room or an office. There would be locks on the door, probably electronic or something. Security cameras. Maybe it’s even guarded.”

My stomach tightened. I
did
know of an area in the administration building that was off-limits: the adjoining offices of the president and vice-president of the company. Although I could go nearly everywhere in the Worldwind compound, I knew my key card wouldn’t allow me into that part of the building. As an ex-con, I couldn’t be bonded. I had the lowest possible security clearance.

Another thought hit me. My mother was David Matheson’s administrative assistant. Her card could get her inside.

I didn’t say anything to Chuck, but he nodded as if I had spilled my guts about everything.

“I’m not a hands-on guy,” he said to me. “Never have been. And ninety-nine times out of a hundred I would have just skimmed right past this offer. But I don’t know, man: the money is pretty tempting. Stacy wouldn’t have to bust her hump slinging slop; I wouldn’t have to work in my basement doing … this.” He glanced up at me out of the corner of his eye. “You and your mother would be set. No more worries.”

A thousand thoughts ran through my mind in that moment, but the one that stood out was the recollection of the look on my mother’s face when the judge had sentenced me to two years behind bars.

The disappointment and hurt in her eyes had been too much to bear, and my shame had remained with me ever since.

Even after all that, she had still been there for me when I got out of prison on parole … even after the shit I had put her through.

“Sorry if I’m barking up the wrong tree,” Chuck said. “I thought that’s what you were inside for: burglary.”

“Yeah,” I said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “That’s what I was in for.”

He looked puzzled. “But…”

“Not everyone who goes to jail is guilty of the crime they’re sentenced for.” My words came out with more bitterness than I had intended.

“Hey, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to step in it, you know.”

I sighed, as if that could release some of my tension. “Don’t sweat it,” I said, trying to sound affable. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

Chuck was crestfallen, I could tell, but he put up a smile right away.

“Yeah. Forget I said anything. And—” he added as I turned away, “—there’s no need to trouble Stacy about this, right?”

I made a waving motion with my hand. “Good night, Chuck.”

Chapter Four

Stacy had been
thoughtful enough to set the alarm for me, and when it turned on, I quickly hit the ‘off’ button before it woke her as well.

Four hours wasn’t nearly enough sleep, and I knew I was going to be struggling to stay alert throughout the day, but I forced myself to get out of bed and get ready for work. Stacy was still sleeping when I finished in the bathroom, and though I wanted to give her a kiss on the cheek, I didn’t want to risk waking her.

When I left the house, I made sure to lock the door. I was still in my clothes from yesterday, but I usually kept a spare at work. Although I could have made breakfast at Stacy’s, I settled for grabbing an egg muffin and a cup of coffee at a fast-food restaurant outside the airport.

* * *

On the southeastern side of Seattle, Kingsway Airfield was home to over a dozen companies. There were four charter lines, including a helicopter tour service. Several mechanical and supply operations serviced the airport as well. A number of private owners also leased space there.