Maloney's Law by Anne Brooke Page A

here, and I’m interested in one door only.
    Where does Delta Egypt’s alarm system lead to? The local police? Or just internal security? Is it audible or silent, in order to catch the intruder unaware? Whatever, even if I hadn’t got the message from Kenzie’s behaviour, the level of company security tells me there’s something in that office I need to see.
    From under my robe, I slip out the small tool kit concealed in my belt, unwrap it on the carpet tiles, and decide what to use. Fifty-nine seconds later — twelve seconds worse than my record — I’m in.
    I brace myself for the wail of the alarm, eyes skating over the walls for the means to silence it. Nothing. The air is silent. I release my breath and wipe the sweat from my face. The lack of audible response means one of two things: Either the alarm, whether linked to an external authority or not, is built to surprise, or Kenzie was lying.
    Discarding the second choice, I calculate I have nine minutes thirty seconds at best to get the information Dominic wants and leave. At worst, no more than five minutes.
    The list of instructions I’ve given myself hums through my mind like a mantra. Leave the door ajar so I can hear any movement in the corridor outside, maybe if I’m lucky the slight swoosh of the lift. Disable the CCTV, which is well-hidden but not impossible to find. What kind of man has CCTV in his own office? It’s easy enough to switch off, then destroy. Next, I make a quick but thorough search of all the cabinets and drawers. Not that a man like that will leave anything there to incriminate himself, but it’s foolish to assume he hasn’t.
    Nothing. As I thought. Because I want him to know I’ve been here, I leave the drawers unlocked and the cabinets open. I hope before he smiles at what I’ve done, there’ll be a moment or two when he won’t.
    There are three minutes left, at worst, and, at best, six minutes thirty seconds.
    The computer system. It’s the only thing left to ransack. I head outside to the computer I’d used this morning. Whatever happens now, this company is hiding something, and Dominic is right. I know it with all my instincts. Blake Kenzie is bad news, and I want to know the depths of it.
    Outside, there’s still no movement and no time to check where the lift has got to. My fingers slide over the keys, my task made easier by the two hidden computer recognition buttons I slipped into place earlier on. Courtesy of Jade’s IT wizardry. One day soon I’ll have to offer her a partnership. As for now, it’s switch on, hack in as best I can, search, and plunder. And save, save, save. Behind me the nightlife of Cairo pulsates and flickers, and the CD chunters away at my side, while I force my eyes up and down the screen, through the file trees Kenzie has allowed to be shown on his public system. In these maybe, just maybe, might lie a clue he’s overlooked.
    I ignore the folders I saw this morning, concentrating instead on the names that at the moment mean less but might hide more: the various projects, company reporting, sponsorships. All of it is burnt onto the CD and at the same time I glance through wherever my eye and the mouse take me and...
    Come on, come on. Twenty-eight seconds to my worst case scenario, twenty-seven, twenty-five—
    And something flashes up on the screen that, at the speed I’m going, only hits me two mouse clicks later. DG Allen Enterprises.
    Twenty-two seconds, twenty, seventeen. And I’m back, burrowing into the Allen folder, knowing there’s no time to read it here but unable to stop myself, wanting to know, wanting to see. Now.
    Fifteen seconds, twelve. A sharp whisper of sound beyond my current enclosed world taps into my consciousness.
    The lift.
    All my calculations found lacking, I’m out of time too soon. Cut the CD save, pocket it, knock the Allen file off screen, hope I’ve got it anyway, please God. A brush of rubber sole on carpet and, from outside the room, words I don’t