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Boldt put his head back against the headrest, understanding but not quite accepting that he had to wait it out like a director in the wings watching a play.
Then, when the phone did ring, it was only Heiman, reporting from On-Sat. “The Escalade’s moving south,” the voice said. “Heading through Fremont at the moment. If I had to guess,” Heiman said, “I’d say he’s still heading downtown.”
Having tended once again to her hair and lipstick, centering the strand of pearls she wore around her neck, Liz rounded the corner into the open area of the twenty-fifth floor and immediately spotted Phillip Crenshaw’s gray-white mane across the crowded room. She elected to steer clear for the time being. Phillip had been carefully briefed on all aspects of the embezzlement case, by Liz, the police, BCI, and the prosecuting attorney’s office. Liz didn’t want him seeing her and then making phone calls to check up on her. If they crossed paths, fine; she would tell him in private that she’d been run through what now appeared to be a ruse, but still had not taken possession of the software, nor had she been given the account number-all true.
It surprised her how well the data center transformed for the event. Her staff had done a terrific job. Several transit posters a
“Charlotte.” Liz smiled at the attractive young woman behind the welcome desk.
“There you are!” Charlotte bent over and reached below the table. She handed Liz a name tag that bore a small blue ribbon, a touch that Liz didn’t care for but something Phillip had insisted upon. The ribbon identified Liz as “co-hostess” and made her feel cheap, as if she were throwing a Pampered Chef party instead of a reception for a multibillion-dollar merger. “This came for you.”
Charlotte gave her a plain manila envelope. A plain white label bore her name and nothing more. It was the right size and shape and thickness for a computer disk.
“How’d you get this?”
“It was messengered to the lobby desk. Dilly sent it up.”
“When was this?”
Charlotte heard the concern in Liz’s voice and reflected it. “Just before we got going. A few minutes before eight. Why?”
Liz backpedaled, sorry she’d suggested there was any problem. “Oh, no reason.” She forced her face to soften. “It’s just in time. Thanks.” She glanced to her right, where the end of the room was sectioned off by polished steel beams and thick, unbreakable glass, and looked right at one of the twin AS/400s, a black, solid block of computer the size of a washing machine. Behind the server and out of view was a small desk holding a large flat-panel screen and a keyboard. The placement of this workstation intentionally screened the operator in order to prevent any eavesdropping or spying from without. The machine’s twin sister sat to the right in a small office of its own. This more private room was where most of the heavy lifting was done by programmers and maintenance. This was Liz’s destination. To reach it, she would have to pass through a palm-sca
The cake had been Lou’s idea, his solution to part of this dilemma, and only then did she think to follow up with it, asking Charlotte about its readiness.
“It’s here,” Charlotte replied. “But we’re saving it for after the switchover, right?”
That had been Liz’s original instruction, but now that had to change for the sake of timing. She could feel Special Ops close on her heels. “The switchover is actually just ceremonial. Phillip… Mr. Crenshaw, will throw a switch, yes. But the final exchange of data won’t occur until after midnight. Then our servers are off-line for good.”
“Right… ” Charlotte clearly wondered why Liz would explain what she already knew.
“So what can it possibly matter when we serve the cake? The point being that once the switch is thrown, the party peaks, and maybe folks don’t stick around for the cake.”
“Just admit it, Mrs. Boldt,” Charlotte said, nearly stopping Liz’s heart. “I know your real reason for changing plans.”
Liz felt the color drain out of her face and her hands go cold.
“Choc-o-holic, anyone?” Charlotte cracked up. “Confess your sins, Mrs. Boldt!”
Liz felt nervous laughter escape from her throat. “Caught!” she said, her knees weak and actually trembling. “Me and chocolate! You got me. Let them eat cake.”
“How soon?”
“Let’s give the hors d’oeuvres another few minutes, and then surprise everyone.” Liz kept one eye on the end of the room, and the brightly lit secure office. “And don’t forget the candles and the room lights. Phillip wants this to be dramatic.”
Charlotte beamed. “I’ll tell the caterers.”
“I’ll do it,” Liz said, wanting both the excuse and the opportunity to avoid circulating as much as possible. “If anybody’s getting an advance taste of that cake, it’s me.”
Charlotte gri
The caterers from Wild Ginger had usurped both the galley kitchen and a small conference room across from it, down a hall near the stairs that Liz had climbed only minutes before. Asian odors of pickled ginger and plum and ci
Halfway back down the hall, she stepped into an empty office and pulled out her cell phone. Lou answered right away.
“I’m in. Watch for the lights. Five minutes, maybe ten.”
“They’re searching the theater. Riz is going to have this figured out soon if he doesn’t already. They’ll think you were pressured into this, but they’ll still expect one of those two passwords from you.” Miles6. Sarah4. She didn’t intend to use either; there would be no alerting Pahwan Riz to the actual transfer. “I’ve got Bobbie inside as a waitress,” Lou continued. “When you’re done in there, you need to call me.”
He’d stressed this need to call him about a dozen times and it a
“Okay.” Boldt ended the call.