Shatter Me At Dawn

1

Trevor Schultz was picking his nose again. The kid was gross. Rumor had it he had an IQ of 170, but apparently such extraordinary genius didn’t confer class. When he noticed me watching him—my lip openly curled in disgust—he shot me an irritating smirk and flicked the booger somewhere across the conference room. At least he had the decency not to flick it at me. Neither Cole nor Bossman seemed to notice, Bossman because he was shuffling through a stack of papers spread across the mahogany desk. Cole was intensely studying his fingernails. I'd have bet there weren't much in the way of hangnails to find—Cole was always impeccably groomed.

Amusingly, he and Trevor couldn’t have been more opposite. Where Trevor’s hair hung shaggy and uncombed, Cole’s hair was neatly cropped against his head. Where Trevor’s shirt hung out half-tucked, tie askew, Cole Willingham looked like he had stepped out of a Brooks Brothers catalog. I’d have turned up the flirting with him a while ago if the aftermath of a one-night stand wouldn’t have made coming to work entirely too awkward.

After a few more moments of silence, Bossman cleared his throat. He liked to make us wait until we felt as uncomfortable as possible before important meetings, maybe some kind of interrogation trick he’d picked up in the army. He still looked more like he should have been shouting orders at cadets than sitting in a boardroom in front of a stack of paper. He leaned forward across the table, steepling his fingers.

“So you’re telling me none of you have found a backdoor to the PoisonApple virus,” Bossman said in a quiet voice laced with menacing undertones, unleashing that familiar iron-cold gaze on us each in turn. “You had two weeks of dedicated time to this. Two entire weeks. That should have been nothing to you. Explain.”

Cole shifted uncomfortably in the seat beside me, summoning the courage to speak first. “It’s more complicated than anything I’ve seen before, sir. The hackers behind this must be some of the best—“

“I thought I was hiring the best hackers,” interrupted Bossman. He made a pointed glance at Trevor. “Looking at you, Schultz.”

Trevor just shrugged.

Right, Trevor Schultz, the eighteen-year-old whiz kid. I was only five years older but no one had ever called me a whiz-anything.

“Hey, what are we?” I said, gesturing between Cole and me, “Chopped liver?”

“I’m paying you all a fortune,” Bossman shot back, “and I expect results. Maybe your minds have become too soft taking advantage of all those work-from-home days and extremely generous vacation time.”

“No, no—not at all, those are great,” I replied quickly. My paid vacation to Italy last month definitely cemented working for Lockstone Securities into “dream job” status.

“Then what am I paying you for?” shouted Bossman. “The White House needs this—now. They’ve already lost record amounts of classified information. This has already become the biggest intelligence crisis in recent history. Lockstone Securities’ status as a top government contractor is in jeopardy.”

“Not to mention national and global security,” I muttered under my breath. It was only a matter of time before this virus began making its way across the ocean and it was just like Bossman to think first about the future of Lockstone Securities and second about the safety of the nation and world at large.

“Why don’t you quit with the smartass comments, Andress, unless you have something to show us.”

“Well, actually, if the boys have nothing to add—“ I kept my eyes on Cole and Trevor as I set the flash drive onto the table, wanting to see their reaction as I made my grand reveal. “I’ve written an anti-virus that will take control of it.”

Cole straightened in his seat and Trevor’s eyes went wide, their attention rooted to the small piece of equipment. I didn’t want to gloat but—let’s be realistic—it was a piece of genius.

“It’s just four lines of code,“ I added as Bossman picked it up, inspecting it as if he could see those four lines of code through the smooth aluminum shell. “It tricks the virus into thinking it’s the target information. It’s not a backdoor—this will take us right through the front.”

“A virus to take down the virus,” Bossman mused.

“Bullshit,” interjected Trevor. “That’s impossible. PoisonApple can’t be exploited like that.”

“Why don’t you take a look at the code and see for yourself?” I said.

“Yeah, sure—“ began Trevor, before Bossman cut him off.

“No one will be looking at this code right now.” Bossman’s steel eyes glinted with something I couldn’t quite place. And then, to my complete horror…he snapped the flash drive in half.

Cole and I surged to our feet simultaneously.

“What did you do that for?” Cole gasped.

I probably looked like the statue of a fish with my mouth gaping open, eyes bugged wide, speechless. A cute fish though—my makeup was on point that day.

“I’m arranging you a direct meeting with Homeland Security,” said Bossman to me as he stood, filing his papers—and the broken flash drive—back in his briefcase. “And I need you to immediately delete any trace of this code off any computer.”

“I-I don’t understand,” I managed finally, the initial shock of the destroyed flash drive ebbing away, anger beginning to pool in it’s place. “You wanted a solution and I delivered one. I spent days—“

“You’re a smart woman,” said Bossman, snapping the locks on his briefcase shut, “I’ll bet you still have it—here.” He tapped the side of his forehead with a finger. “That’s where it stays for now.”

“She should at least be able to share it with us,” Trevor said finally, his first verbal contribution to this meeting. “Who knows if this snippet of code does what she says it does? You didn’t even look at it, sir.”

“I’ve been doing this longer than you, Trevor,” I retorted. “It does.”

“I agree with Trevor,” added Cole. “She should at least have us take a look before wiping it.”

“I believe her,” Bossman said, words that I would remember for the rest of my life. “Sophie has always done impeccable work.” He turned to me. “That’s why I’m promoting her to Senior Analyst.”

“Wait…sir,” floundered Trevor, “This is—I mean, you can’t just—

“I can, and I did,” growled Bossman. “I’ll contact you for your next assignment, Schultz.”

Bossman strode from the room leaving Trevor rooted to the floor, his face blank. But I could deduce the devastation he felt inside. We’d all been gearing for this promotion for months—though no one had guessed it would come now, in this volatile way. Bossman could be gruff, intimidating, loud. But he was always predictable, and the events of this meeting had taken me—all of us—by surprise.

“I’m sorry, Trevor,” I offered toward the slim figure of the boy. Still a teenager, though it was difficult to remember that sometimes—to Trevor’s credit.

“You don’t have to apologize,” said Cole, coming to stand behind me and putting a supportive hand on my shoulder. “Bossman does what he wants. You won the prize. Congrats on beating PoisonApple.”

Trevor fled the room suddenly, the door banging shut behind him. But had I caught a glance of his sleeve dashing across his eyes? Was he crying?

I managed a half-smile at Cole, surprised by the lack of enthusiasm I felt for my promotion. Something was making me feel uneasy. Maybe it was Bossman’s erratic behavior, maybe the effect my success had on Trevor, or maybe just the general feeling of something not being right about the last twenty minutes.

Either way, I knew the next course of action was to call Lex.