Tropical Storm 17

A short laugh came through the phone. “Lock, stock, barrels, monkeys, hair dryers, and their accountant’s latest lunch list,” he advised her. “Mail’s up, servers locked down. Anything else I can do for you today?”

“Thanks.” Dar folded the phone up. “You’re up on mail. Tell your people not to make any administrative changes to your servers, and you can expect a team here tomorrow to start going over procedures.”

Kerry folded her hands over her desk. “How did you know all that about our personnel statistics?”

Pale blue eyes lanced into her. “We broke into your server database this morning and extracted it.” Dar smiled. “Your security sucks. You might want to start your review there.” She felt a sense of quiet triumph, which faded as Kerry returned her look with one of stony dislike. “Nothing personal.”

“No.” The blonde stated quietly. “I can see that.” She stood. “Would you like to look around?”

The last thing Dar needed was the nickel tour. She reminded herself she had six or seven conference calls to take care of back at the office, so she was very surprised when she heard her voice answering “Sure.”

Kerry just nodded and stepped around the desk, running a hand through her pale hair and pushing it back off her face. She was wearing a pair of fairly snug jeans and a short-sleeved white lace shirt that displayed an outdoor tan, which tightened against her body as she took a deep breath. “All right, follow me.”

She circled the desk and brushed by Dar as she headed for the door to the office. The dark-haired woman caught a hint of clean soap and the faintest hint of apricot as she belatedly stood and headed after Kerry. Well, well, well, indeed.

IT HAD, DAR later mused, been a very hostile afternoon. She’d gotten the feeling that word had spread quickly, since they’d only made it to the programmers’ nests before she was starting to get those dagger-in-the-eye looks from the inmates. She half expected her car to be keyed by the time they finished up, but apparently no one had figured out which one it was. Not surprising, since an LX470 sport utility truck was hardly what they expected a VP Ops to be driving.

The head programmer had possibilities, she conceded, if you could dig her out of her shell long enough to talk code with her, which Dar had. The support and IS managers were useless, and listening to the calls as she passed through, seemingly oblivious, had allowed her to catch at least two individuals telling customers complete lies, and two others using the opportunity to make social arrangements. Stuart had heard that last one, Dar realized, as she’d seen the look of dismay in the woman’s startlingly open face. Kerry Stuart. Dar leaned back against the leather and allowed herself the luxury of a few minutes of quiet thought. The kid isn’t stupid, and she’s gutsy…but damn, is she an innocent. She really wasn’t ready for this, but all in all, handled the shock pretty well, considering.

What Dar couldn’t get out of her mind was that nagging sense of 18 Melissa Good familiarity. Do we shop in the same place or something? Not likely. Kerry lived in Kendall, just past the Turnpike in one of the mazes of suburban rental clusters frequented by white-collar workers in the area. Maybe she comes down to the beach a lot? Not that Dar spent a whole lot of time on South Beach, but she did get down there from time to time, and would stroll along the boardwalk.

She gave up, knowing it would come to her eventually. Her watch meeped softly, and she glanced down, surprised to see how late it was. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, then tapped her console-mounted cell phone. A moment later it was answered by Maria’s singsong voice.

“Hello, Maria.”

“Dar, where are you?” her secretary answered in a lowered voice.

“In my car, on the way back from Associated. Why?” the executive replied, a touch puzzled. “You knew where I was.”

“Stay away. Stay far, far away. ¡ Dios mío! A man, he backed a truck into the facilities room downstairs, and took out all the controls for the air conditioning,” Maria replied with a groan. “It must be like an oven in here, Dar. My head is roasting.”

The executive winced. “Oh boy.” She considered. “Did they down the servers, at least?” she asked, then she slapped herself on the head. “What am I thinking? Maria, get out of there before you pass out.”

“Ay, I have my little fan, but it is like I am cooking…turning crispy,” the secretary told her. “Thank you very much. I will pack up my things and be on my way.”

“Any ETA for restore?” Dar asked with a sigh, as she got off onto State Road 836, which would take her cross-town to the office. “You should have called me.”

“No, no. They’re arguing who is to blame; that is first.” Maria sounded disgusted, unusual for the Spanish woman.

“All right. Call in first tomorrow, Maria. I don’t want you coming in if it’s still out, it’ll only get worse,” Dar decided as she rubbed her temples. “Get out of there.”

“I don’t care what anyone says, Dar, you are an angel,” Maria replied warmly. “They can all kiss my…how you call them? Grits.”

That got a smile from the executive. “Thanks, Maria. Nice to hear that after getting out of Associated. They don’t much like me right now.” Her mind conjured up the parting look she’d gotten from Kerry, which had been as full of disgust as any she’d had the misfortune of getting in a while. Normally, she could have cared less, but that kid… “Anyway, good night, Maria.”

“Good night, Dar. Drive carefully, please,” the secretary reminded her.

“There are crazies out there.”

Dar smiled quietly. It was nice, sometimes, to have someone be concerned about you, even if they were doing it as part of their job. “I will.”

She disconnected, and settled back to negotiate the traffic, putting on a New Age CD and rubbing her neck to try and relieve the nagging soreness that had developed during her drive.

That kid… Dar rested her head against the back of the seat. Ah well. She exhaled. The blonde would probably have a better offer by tomorrow, and leave as big as mess as she could for Dar to clean up.


Tropical Storm 19

Happened every time.

AFTER WATCHING HER unwelcome guest leave, Kerry walked back into her office and closed the door. She stood silently in the middle of the floor for a minute, then looked around. Pale blue carpet, light gray walls, wood grain desk—it wasn’t elegant, given what she’d grown up with, but...

Damn it!

“I worked so hard for this,” she whispered, sitting down in her visitor’s chair. “Damn it! This isn’t fair.” She let her head sink into her hands, bracing her elbows on the chair arms.

There was a soft sound as the door opened behind her. “Ker?”

“Yeah,” she replied, not bothering to move.

An arm slipped around her shoulders, and she looked up to see Ray’s concerned face. “Jefa, don’t let it get to you like that. Blow her off, the big bitch.” He clucked at her, rubbing her neck. “What a scary person. I think she’s related to Cruella DeWhatever from that doggy movie.”

A tiny laugh escaped from Kerry. “Ray, John was right. They want to get rid of all of us.” She looked up at him. “She’s giving me a chance to come up with a plan. If I can cut the budget in half, she’ll consider it, and maybe some folks will get to keep their jobs.“ A faint shake of her head signaled her discouragement. “There’s just no way.”

Ray put his hands on his hips. “She’s giving you a chance to do that?” he repeated, his voice surprised. “That’s like…unheard of, from what I understand. How did you manage to get her to do that?” He lowered his tone.

“Kerry, from what I was just hearing that big bitch just comes in and,” he snapped his fingers, “we all go bye-bye.”

Kerry paused and thought. “Is it?” Her brow creased. “I don’t know. I just…I guess I wasn’t very nice to her. You’d think that would make her mad, but it didn’t. Matter of fact, I think she kind of liked it.” She made a wry face at him.

He snorted. “Oh yes. She seems that type,” he remarked snidely. “I see the leather and the whip cracking around that one, you bet.”

The director sighed. “I don’t know if I can come up with anything,” she admitted. “But I’ll give it a try, Ray. Try to save as many people as I can.” She gave him a tight smile. “But I think you better give Mona at Alternative Resources a call. Tell her we might have some prospects for her staff pool.”

“Mañana.” Ray patted her on the shoulder. “Come on. We’re going down to Fat Tuesdays and doing the happy hour. Come with us.”

A knock sounded on her door. “Ms. Stuart?”

They looked up. “Come on in, Anita.” Kerry watched the short, slim accounting clerk bustle over, her arms filled with fanfold printouts. “That the stuff?”

“The budget, yes, and payroll, accounts payable and receivables,” the woman replied, setting them on her desk. “Anything else you need right now?” She pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up and sniffed. “I have to reload the line printer if you do.”

“No. Thanks, that’ll keep me busy for a while.” Kerry smiled at her 20 Melissa Good wearily. “Go on, Ray. Let me get started on this stuff.”

The tall man blinked at her. “You can’t do this all night. Why don’t you just get a fresh thing going in the morning?”

“Go on, get out of here,” Kerry repeated, rising and going to her desk, where she started pulling the various reports apart. It was going to be a long, long night, she could see that. “Wait. Ray, can you get me a paper box?” No sense in sitting here and doing the initial review. “Might as well make myself miserable in my own apartment.”

“Kerry…”

“Shoo,” the blonde woman said. “Sooner I get started, sooner we know how bad it’s going to be.”

THE CAR FERRY was very quiet as Dar sat on it in solitary splendor, her car placed neatly in the center of the deck as the vehicle bobbed over the waves towards the island. The wind was blowing into her face, so the sound of the engines was muted, and she rested her pounding head against the door as the black waters slipped under the keel.

She was hot and exhausted, and more than a little fed up, having spent the preceding ten hours in a high-rise building with no air conditioning, doing what she could to get things fixed. Which was considerable, granted, and when she’d finally browbeaten a contractor into obtaining a replacement panel and installing it at midnight, the few people left in the building had cheered and clapped for her.

All three of them: two cleaners and the security guard, their uniforms sticking to them and drenched with sweat. Just like she was. She’d sent the rest of the staff home, and stayed there, propping the fourteenth floor emergency doors open to get a hint of a humid breeze in the place. Calls to the building managers, to her own facilities department, to infrastructure because the security panel links had been blown…all yielded no results, so she’d finally called the building contractors, and gotten the owner on the phone at ten PM.

Thank god they only had a five-year contract, and it was up for renewal.

That had been enough threat leverage to get him off his ass and get a part out, along with five grumbling technicians. Her glare behind them had done the rest, and by one AM, a low shudder passed through the building as the huge roof units hummed to life.

Now it was two AM, and she was finally going home. Business would go on as usual tomorrow, with no interruptions, and that was the important thing, since they couldn’t run the huge server cascades unless the air was on.

She’d left a note on her desk to find out about a backup air unit for the computer room, for the next time.

She also started coming up with answers as to why there was a this time.

Infrastructure was her responsibility and she’d dropped the ball on this one.

Damn it.

She sighed and closed her eyes, letting the air conditioning in the Lexus hit her full blast. Another problem solved, and she was fairly sure not one person would thank her for it tomorrow. Save maybe the cleaning ladies, who Tropical Storm 21

had timidly appeared at her office door while she was hollering at the contractor, bearing a pitcher of cold, home-brewed ice tea and a plastic cup. It was the only thing that had made her smile all night.

With a gentle clank, the ferry docked, and she waited for the deck hands to remove the chocks around her wheels before she shifted the car into drive and carefully eased it up the sloping ramp and onto the island. A few minutes later she was tucking the Lexus into its spot under the condo, then pulling herself up the stairs and through the door, her fingers tapping in the code all by themselves, the beeps sounding startlingly loud in the quiet of the early morning.