*****
Tom planted his feet on the curb in front of his house and didn’t move. The cool morning air rushed into his overexerted lungs; and with each nervous breath, he exhausted Exsorbo’s spent phantom fuel; it felt like a burning irritation pestering his vertebral canal.
McBridle pulled up to the curb, and flung open the passenger’s door. “Quick, get in!” she demanded. “We haven't got all day.”
He climbed into the seat in an awkward manner and positioned his shabby briefcase on top of his wrinkled lap. “Two in a row; another crisp beautiful day,” Tom said, and secretly glanced at her curvaceous thighs that were visibly fashioned in snow-white stockings.
“Yes, and, hopefully, we’ll receive a painless winter,” she replied with a cute smile, catching his eyes as he glanced from her legs.
Tom could obviously detect a change in her stormy personality; she seemed aroused by his wide eyes and attention. He thought that maybe the boss-lady’s icy armour was melting. He set his briefcase down by his feet. “What’s the reason for starting the day so early?”
“We've got lots to do, and there aren’t enough hours in the day. In all likelihood, we’ll probably be working into the night,” she replied.
The thought of working an all-nighter with her was somewhat appealing to him; the scent of her exotic perfume sealed his hearty commitment.
She pulled a file folder from the beneath the seat and handed it to him. “Have a quick look, but don’t mess up the pages.”
His dry fingertips touched her moisturized hand as he received the file.
“Doctor Carravecky’s a busy man so he requested this meeting at eight-fifteen.”
He watched her green eyes trace the contour of the pavement.
“We’ll be sitting in with him and his two sons, along with a few close, yet silent investors, with whom I’m not familiar.”
Tom started to thumb through the ten or so pages of crisp documentation. It seemed too early to absorb the facts so he merely scanned over the highlighted details until he realized most of the information revolved around Carravecky’s security breach.
One particular item of interest was: THE SECURITY SYSTEMS EVALUATION AND PROTECTION OF CLASSIFIED PROJECTS CONTAINMENT...
He got serious and viewed the content. A few minutes later, he completed his examination and handed the file back to her.
“Learn anything?” she inquired.
“Carravecky’s a tight-knit business,” he replied.
“Hungarian-American family blood--they’d do anything to keep their name pure of unnecessary sin.”
Tom observed her corporate-style business suit, which gave her the deportment of a highly successful professional, except when she slightly twisted around with the file folder, her thighs ever so parted and revealed her queenly panties as she slid the paperwork on the backseat near her bag. He became sexually exhilarated by her actions, but waited a moment to tame his erect mind. “So this new security system bombed,” he determined, “and now there’s a possibility Carravecky’s sensitive research and development was exposed.”
“I’m impressed,” McBridle said, and glanced over. “You learn fast,” as she directed her attention back to the wheel.
From the off ramp, the gates to the complex were in sight. They pulled up to the barricade; a guard approached with his hand on his side arm and followed standard entrance procedures.
The drive to the main complex entrance seemed longer than a few minutes as several pieces of heavy excavation equipment were being towed at a turtle’s pace and partially choked off the road. They pulled into the alternative parking area and into a reserved billet.
Tom was again mesmerized by the immensity of the super-modern production facility. He stood at the bottom of the marble entrance and took each step with an increased tension as he followed McBridle.
A security guard sprang up from the control monitors and offered assistance. “Ms. McBridle, fifth floor,” the guard directed. “Doctor Carravecky and others are waiting.”
“Thank you ever so much,” she replied, then motioned with a hooked finger for Tom to follow. She eagerly paced the ten strides to the elevator like a feisty woman on a hotplate.
Tom stopped a few feet behind her and watched the graceful stride of her feminine motion. He had a bizarre mental image about her new behaviour that he just couldn’t decipher. His mind was preoccupied with the needling thought.
She snapped about. “Come on, Tom, catch up.”
He doubled up his pace until he marched alongside.
The elevator’s upward motion created a calming effect that helped soothe his fatigued senses. The blossomy scent of her sweet perfume was uplifting and made him even more relaxed. He leaned against the panel and looked up at the floor indicator, which was: five.
McBridle led the way to one of the company’s meeting areas located on this floor. She knocked on the boardroom door ever so gently.
Robert, Doctor Carravecky’s eldest son, opened the door and welcomed them. He was a well-groomed man of thirty-six years, who stood six-feet tall with a slight receding hairline, square jaw and eyes that revealed intensity for inherited success. He stared curiously at Tom before offering a handshake.
The Doctor greeted McBridle with a corporate hug. “I assume we’re all here?” he asked Robert.
“Yes, we’re all present and accounted for,” Robert replied, and locked the door.
“Well, let’s get started,” Doctor Carravecky instructed.
Tom surveyed the boardroom with an accumulating interest, careful not to make any noticeable eye contact and studied the array of sly poker faces. The Doctor sat at the head of the large oval board table and expressed his utmost satisfaction that all had arrived on time. He directed his attention toward McBridle, who was unpacking a leather satchel, and gave her a few moments to settle in as he watched her remove a sealed envelope and place the bag by her feet.
She handed Robert a package labelled: TOM BRONZE SECURITY DOSSIER.
Robert accepted the envelope and sat across from her.
“Oh, by the way, this is Tom Bronze. He’ll be assisting me in this investigation,” McBridle officially informed them.
Robert stared at Mr. Bronze, “I trust you’ve made the correct choice,” and looked toward McBridle.
She smiled politely, “If any of this information concerning this security breach hits any of the media right now, there’s going to be a lot of slippery explaining. The loyal Carravecky shareholders are going to be first to ask what’s going on within these walls. If we can’t logically explain that or at least come up with a presentable explanation, it’s going to be tough sledding when they perceive us as story fabricators. Then, I’m sure, the Securities Exchange Commission will be standing at your doorstep with their knife and fork ready to dig in with a glorious appetite and eat the rich.” She continued until interrupted by the Doctor’s youngest son, Samuel, who was tapping his chewed up pencil on the table in a disturbing manner and constantly checking the time and uttering, “boring, boring,” and probably wishing he were on the golf course.
She barely acknowledged him, even though she painfully played holes with Samuel a few times last year; he could barely crack the ball without breaking a club.
She continued, “A secret investigative audit could lead us to a plausible explanation. We know of two breaches in the system; the first, a few months ago; the second, four weeks later. It seems odd your system’s data doesn’t indicate the severity of the compromise; but it’s obvious, I suspect, they were after military system designs and programming secrets housed in the main research computers.”
The Doctor nodded. It was apparent that McBridle had professionally regurgitated what he had already assumed.
“It’s a major problem,” the Doctor said. “We’ll need to determine exactly what type of damage was sustained and do whatever is required; but please handle this matter efficiently and without any unnecessary complications.”
“Yes
, of course, that’s our employed duty,” she replied.
“As always, Ms. McBridle,” Robert concluded, “we appreciate your customary integrity, and we are confident that you will preserve our world-wide credibility so Celia, don’t let us down,” and then he closed the file.