Chris lifted both arms. “Why not?”
Walter shook his head. “I like all of this, and at this point I say it’s a Go. However, I have an open-door policy. If at any point anyone has concrete reason to believe the mission will fail, I want to be told about it right away. If it is a valid concern, I’ll immediately pull the plug. I want to win this thing, not drive this company into the ground.”
Peter gave a cautious nod.
“All right, let’s do it. Let’s set a tentative launch date for September 21st. I want to make this a spectacle. I suggest we get the press involved shortly after launch. I want the world to see our success and make it that much tougher for NASA not to award us that contract.” Walter closed the file in front of him. “I’ll get the final approval from the owner before coordinating with our Nevada launch site.” He stood. “All right, gentlemen, we have just pushed in all of our chips. Let’s make this gamble pay off.”
PETER SAT AT his desk intently studying the manual on the Iris spacecraft. He found the capsule had many similarities to the Galileo, including its control panel layout. He looked up for a moment to rest his eyes and was shocked to see darkness had settled outside his window. He glanced down at his watch. Wow, already 8:50. Peter had been so engaged, he wasn’t sure if anyone was left in the building. Since his main purpose for staying late was to snoop around Chris’s office, he decided to take a relaxing stroll through the building to see if anyone was left.
After walking through most of the complex, Peter found the place empty. The last section to inspect was Mahogany Row, where Chris’s office was, along with some of the other bigwigs. As he casually strolled down the empty hallway, he nonchalantly peeked out of the corner of his eye into the offices he passed, looking for any sign of life. The corridor was eerily quiet; the only sound was his footsteps. He stopped midway at a counter that had a coffee maker. He yelled out in a booming voice that vibrated through the large corridor. “Anyone here? I’m going to make some coffee. Would anyone like some?”
A strong voice with burly overtones answered from behind. “What are you still doing here?”
Peter jerked around to see Walter approaching, briefcase in hand. “Oh, hey, Walter. I’m just working late trying to get up to speed on Iris. There’s still a lot I need to learn about the spacecraft, especially if I am going to help my team be ready to fly by nine twenty-one.”
Walter smiled as he patted Peter hard on the back. “Well, don’t work too late.” He continued down the hallway toward the stairs.
“I won’t. Any idea if anyone else is left in the office who might want some coffee? Otherwise, I’m making just one cup.”
Walter raised his hand as he kept on walking. “You and I are the only fools left, and I’m out of here.” The president then turned and started down the staircase, his steps softly echoing out of the opening. A loud voice came roaring back, “Good night.”
Peter cupped his hands around his mouth. “Good night.” He went back to making his coffee. Once he had a cup of fresh brewed java in his hands, he walked back to his desk, again casing out the place to verify no one was left. He decided to spend another ten minutes reviewing the Iris manual, allowing Walter enough time to be out of the parking lot and long gone.
The unexpected vibration of his cell phone rattling on his desk broke the stillness in his office. He touched the screen. He smiled to see a text from Anya. Please call me around 11pm your time. I want to talk.
Knowing it was early in the morning for her, he wondered what was on her mind. He quickly answered back. Will do.
She texted back. Thanks. Love you.
He answered. Ditto.
Peter set the phone back on his desk. He looked at his watch as a cocky grin shot across his face. It’s time to play Mr. Spy. He pulled out a couple of spy tools from his briefcase and placed them in his pocket before walking directly to Mahogany Row. To confirm no one showed up in the area while he was gone, he went back to the coffee machine and called out again. “Anyone here? I’m going to make some coffee.” He stood still and listened, nothing. He grabbed a small wrapped candy from a dish before turning around and leaning against the counter. He casually unwrapped the mint as he eyed the hallway from side to side. Feeling confident he was the only one left, he popped the small treat in his mouth. Time to get to work. Instantly the theme music from Mission Impossible started playing in his head as he treaded softly down the hallway.
He first turned on the lights of a handful of offices in a row, including Chris’s. Any single lit office could draw suspicion from the parking lot, including the glow from a computer screen. Though the cleaning crew typically worked a later shift, having a few offices lit would give the impression they were there.
After turning on the last light, he strolled over to the storage room at the end of the hallway. He grabbed the vacuum and rolled the machine back to Chris’s office. After entering the well-lit room he left the door slightly ajar. He then rolled the vacuum to the center of the room by the couch and plugged it in, to further the cleaning crew illusion.
He quickly crossed to Chris’s desk and sat down. He was stunned to see Chris’s Rolex sitting in plain view. What an idiot leaving a $20,000 watch lying around. Peter was tempted to snatch it just to piss off the old man, but he knew better than to leave any clue someone had been in the office, and didn’t want to get some cleaning lady fired. Besides, it was probably a fake if it was left so carelessly out in the open. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves before pushing in a SID-issued USB thumb-drive into the computer. He promptly booted up the unit. While waiting for the program on the thumb-drive to locate the computer’s passwords, he started searching through the desk.
The first few drawers had various business related stuff, nothing of interest. He shuffled through some business cards, but all seemed legit. The bottom file drawer was locked. He bent down to see it had a basic pin-and-tumbler lock.
He pulled out a pick set from his pants pocket and set the leather case on the desk. He unsnapped the pouch and pulled out a tension wrench, along with what he suspected was the right-sized pick. He always prided himself with the speed he could open such locks, usually kicking the ass of his fellow CIA agents. He glanced at his watch to challenge himself. Start now. He then slipped the wrench into the small keyhole to determine the direction the key would spin. Left. He kept constant pressure on the tool before he quickly slipped in the metal pick over the wrench. He began to fiddle with the instrument, expertly adjusting each pin within the lock casing, starting with the one farthest back. He listened for a faint clicking sound as he worked each obstacle. The pressure he applied to the wrench insured the pins wouldn’t fall back down and ruin his progress. A small bead of sweat started to trickle down the center of his forehead, tickling him. After a short moment of struggling with the last pin, the wrench turned, unlocking the drawer. Yeah, baby. He wiped the sweat off his forehead before smugly looking down at his watch. Fifty-five seconds, not bad.
He pulled open the file drawer and did a quick scan of the files. He read labels like Expense Reports, Aerospace Companies, NASA… etc. He saw nothing alarming until his fingers walked across a file labeled Personal. He pulled out the file and opened it. Inside were some letters from Chris’s kids, the pink slip for his car, a mortgage quote. He was about to close up the folder before his eyes widened. He found an old tattered paper labeled Gambling Log. Peter remembered Gavin informing him that Chris had a serious gambling problem. Peter studied the paper. On top was a bank account number. Handwritten entries listed Chris’s winnings and losses over the last couple of years. He was shocked to see entries in the tens of thousands of dollars range. Where the hell does this guy get that kind of money? He pulled out his smart phone and took a picture of the paper.