A Dangerous Arrangement by Lee Christine

at one of the laptops. Papers were spread all over the desk, and a satchel hung from the back of his chair.
    The right side of the room housed a modern kitchen equipped with fridge, coffee machine and tea-making facilities. In the unlikely event a guest should become peckish overnight, a mini buffet sat on the bench stocked with an assortment of pastries, sandwiches and muffins.
    Marina took a mug from the shelf and began preparing her coffee. Vlad and Elena had done well over the years, securing themselves this cushy little gig in what was often a difficult and unpredictable industry. She thought of how they’d coaxed, cajoled and finally insisted she come over and spend some time away from the pressures of her career. They were the only people she’d confided in. The only ones who understood her grief.
    She put the milk back in the fridge, a rush of affection for Vlad and Elena blooming in her chest. Her wrist had to hold strong. They’d worked hard to build the reputation of the quartet, and after all they’d done for her she’d hate to let them down.
    Coffee in hand, she was on her way out when the man in the glasses looked up.
    â€˜Wife kicked me out. I’m keeping her awake apparently.’
    Marina paused and gave a wry smile. He’d spoken more out of politeness than anything. ‘Some holiday you’re having.’
    He nodded and went back to work.
    She was turning away when the man’s satchel caught her eye again. It was the type with a wide strap. Nothing fancy. The kind of thing every second guy carried.
    Victor owned one. It had been on the bed the night she’d knocked on the door, its flap open, a pile of disks and flash drives beside it, as if he’d upended the contents and tipped everything out in a flurry. He’d asked her what was up, and while she explained, he’d turned around and shoved the items back inside the bag.
    She remembered feeling embarrassed, and she’d turned her attention to the computer screen. Apart from the bed, it was the only substantial piece of furniture in the sparsely decorated room. Lines of programming language filled the screen, but that hadn’t raised any red flags. He was a software engineer, after all. But she remembered being taken aback when the screen changed.
    Adrenaline made her hands shake and her heart flutter. The bald guy at the computer looked up again, a quizzical expression on his face. Marina turned and hurried from the room. Two minutes later she was sitting in her cabin, icepack on her wrist, coffee mug on the table beside her.
    She brought up Dean Logan’s number on her phone, hit the call button and waited for him to pick up.
    Was he back in Australia?
    What time was it there?
    She hadn’t checked her world clock.
    She sat straighter as the call connected. It didn’t matter what time it was. He’d want to know.
    â€˜Please don’t tell me you pocket-dialled me by mistake.’
    Marina blinked. She’d been expecting ‘Hello’ or a curt ‘Dean Logan’. But his greeting was a little familiar—and nice.
    â€˜I didn’t. I mean, I did … mean to call you.’
    Oh God! She sounded like an inarticulate teenager.
    â€˜Great.’
    There was pleasure in that one word, but she wasn’t about to read anything personal into it. He was pleased to hear from her because he thought she had information that would help him.
    â€˜I’ve remembered something. I’m not sure it will be of use. It’s not much.’
    â€˜That’s good news. Go on.’
    She explained about the satchel, how Victor had scooped everything back into the bag, like he was trying to hide something.
    â€˜I felt embarrassed that I’d walked in on him like that. It’s not something I’d normally do, but I was on my way out and running late. I needed to speak to him about a tradesman I had coming. I knocked on the door twice, but he didn’t answer. I