Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Brains and beauty?!” Gleeful giggles can’t be stopped. “Jackpot!”
“It is a winnin’ combination,” Slater slyly inserts, red lettering skating across my cheek right before his lips plant a chaste kiss against the side of my forehead.
“It is.” Our boss agrees. “And because she herself is working on a very demanding PhD, she completely understood work interrupting our evening. We will meet for dinner tomorrow assuming whatever it is you dragged me here to see, Blumel, doesn’t require rescheduling that.” He clears his throat and motions to the laptop waiting to be acknowledged. “Proceed.”
“I have good news,” Blu cautiously begins, “and I have what the fuck do we do next news.” Double clicking the mousepad brings up five different shots of one individual. “Thanks to Arley’s signature tip, Wiz was able to find us a very viable lead. This ‘executive’ is the only person who works at all five corporations under different aliases and in the same department.”
“Accounting,” Slater confidently states.
“You are correct, tall, dark, and dramatic.” The stab in the air he throws at his best friend receives a flash of his partner’s middle finger. “This man appears to be the most responsible for all financial activity regarding each enterprise.”
“Which makes sense,” our boss thoughtfully concludes, green wording remaining it’s faithful, simple form. “You’re operating under a shell game principle – most likely used to conceal illegal activities – therefore, you wouldn’t want too many people handling those particular accounts and records.”
“Exactly,” Blu agrees prior to continuing. “So, the good news is, we have all five of his faces, names, social security numbers, routines, and personalities. The not so good news is that there’s no way to tell which persona is ‘the most legit’ because his forgery papers are so good that they could pass high level security clearance shit.” He lifts his hand to loudly whisper beside it. “Which Wiz is pissseeedddddd about.” Folding his arms across his chest is followed by a small shrug. “What we have is a target with a plethora of information we can use but no real way to narrow its use to make it actually useable.”
“Not true,” I mindlessly argue, immediately receiving all the attention in the room.
When I don’t add anything else, Harvey diplomatically declares, “Elaborate.”
“It’s basically just a case analysis assignment.”
Confused silence seems to be the collective response.
“I can essentially create an algorithm that takes all the behavioral information Wiz has managed to collect– spending habits, eating preferences, travel logs, ect – and use it to discover which alias presents itself as the least riskiest to be targeted because the one with least risk is most likely the real – or closest to the real – version of himself. It’s basic self-preservation. You may be fine burning a good alias, but it beats the hell out of burning the actual person you are.”
“The one with the least risk then makes them the best target for us because the accountant won’t expect to have that version of himself attacked,” Slater slowly follows. “By believin’ that alias to not be a threat makes him perfect for threatenin’.”
“Exactly!”
“How long do you think it’ll take you?” Our boss promptly prods. “A week? Two?”
“Three days?”
Everyone – including the man whose arms I’m trapped in – delivers me the exact same baffled expression.
Harvey, logically, is the first to speak, “Is this three days if your other work is put on hold?”
“It’s three days if I put my entire life on hold.”
Predictably, Slater objects, “Angel Cake-”
“I would rather pause our time together for a few days than keep pausing our life for a few months, Cowboy.” Angling myself to meet his stare allows him to see the seriousness in mine. “You know I love you.”
A soft, proud smile slips into place. “I do.”
“And I love spending time with you.”
“I know that too.”
“And I love working in the penthouse sometimes…”
“Just not all the time.”
“Exactly.” The shrug that bounces my shoulders is subtle. Small. “I wanna get back to the office. And I wanna stop having to arrange with my secretary about drop points for files for you or Blu to pick up. And I wanna stop having to feed Reynolds leftovers in the middle of the night because he didn’t wake up with enough time to eat before starting his elevator shift. And I wanna stop worrying about Yi or Consuelos or another security team member getting hurt because they happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Shaking my head isn’t gradual. It’s rapid. Furious. “I’m tired of having to hide and have less of a life – a life I actually am excited to live – because someone is hunting me! Us! Now’s our chance to really turn the tables on this person! Let’s fucking take it! Let me get you something you can use to track down this sonofabitch who can probably lead us to the individual behind this faster than I can sift through thousands of employee files.”