The First Billion

Suddenly, she knew what they were doing. There were two of them. There were always two. They were trying to get into her safe, the little fireproof model she'd picked up at Home Depot to protect her zip drives and her journals against fire. They were lifting it and dropping it or banging something on top of it in some brutish attempt to pry it open.

Cate reached the first-floor foyer. At the end of the hall, the door to the study was shut, a light burning beneath the crack. She advanced a step, holding the gun in front of her. They really were insolent, she thought, praying anger would fuel her courage.

Something warm and feathery brushed against her leg, and Cate nearly jumped out of her skin. She wanted to scream, but found her heart already lodged in her throat. She looked down and stifled a shrill note of terror.

It was Toby, her gray Angora. Toby, the meowing mauler of Menlo Park, whom she'd threatened to get rid of a hundred times because the damned kitty never shut his mouth. "Shh, Toby." She reached down to pet him, but he was already gone, bounding upstairs to doze in the folds of her duvet. "Coward," she hushed after him.

And straightening her body, she summoned the will to open the study door. I'm a dangerous woman, she thought proudly, taking another step. I can plug a nickel at twenty paces. I can-

She didn't hear him coming. Not a footstep or a whisper or even a breath of wind. One second she was alone, the next a large, sweaty hand had clamped itself over her mouth. Cate struggled to turn, to drive an elbow back and into his ribs as she'd learned in self-defense class, but the man was upon her, pulling her into his body, his free hand locking onto her wrist, wrenching the gun loose with one furious twist.

"We're in the library," he said. "We've been waiting for you to join us."

Cate stopped squirming and allowed the man to guide her into her study.

Two men stood by the safe. They'd managed to open it, God knows how. One was perusing her journals, the other tearing through her desk. She knew their type, if not their names. The crew cuts, the aggressive eyes, the pumped-up shoulders and size-twenty necks.

"What are you looking for?" she said when he'd removed his hand.

"You know what," replied the man holding her. "Why are you talking to the police?"

"I'm not." Her fear had vanished, cowering before her mammoth indignation. "You're wasting your time."

"We'll see."

He let her go and spun her around, and for a moment she thought that was it, he was moving to the rough stuff right away. She had no illusions about her ability to guard her secrets. If they beat her, she would talk. Instead, the man brushed by her and devoted himself to a tour of her bookshelves. She remained where she was, quiet, suddenly embarrased by her nudity, covering herself.

After a few minutes, the man gave up his perfunctory search. "Anything?" he asked, turning to his colleagues.

Shrugs were their only response.

He approached Cate, taking her face in his meaty hands and bringing it close to his. He was older, with pitted cheeks, black eyes, and a slit for a mouth. "Keep your mouth closed," he whispered. "Understand?"

When Cate didn't answer, an angry expression contorted his face. "Understand?" he said again, squeezing her cheeks and twisting her jaw.

"Yes," she managed to grunt. "I understand."

A minute later they were gone, leaving the front door open behind them. Cate walked to the door and shut it. As an afterthought, she turned on the alarm. But as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, a smile of bitter satisfaction played on her lips.

She had them on the run.

20

Stop it there!" shouted Howell Dodson, deputy assistant director of the FBI, slapping a palm onto his desk. "I want to hear the last part again."

Roy DiGenovese reset the digital recorder, punching the play button when he'd gone back exactly thirty-one seconds. A tinny voice began to speak, the Eastern European accent faintly noticeable.

"And what about the Private Eye-PO?" asked Konstantin Kirov. "What do you plan on doing to him? Surely you do not expect us to sit still while our good name is besmirched."

"I have some people on it already," answered Jett Gavallan. "With any luck, we'll have him located by tomorrow, day after at the latest."

"And then? All of us have our part to play to insure Mercury's future. We expect you to take any and all measures to silence this man. Nothing can stand in the way of Mercury Broadband's going public. Nothing."

"And nothing will. I'll see to it the Private Eye-PO's mouth is shut- permanently, if I have my way. In the meantime, these receipts refute his accusations nicely. I'd say we're back on track."

"Good," said Kirov. "It's time to put an end to this tomfoolery. There's already been enough snooping."

The recording ended, and DiGenovese turned the machine off.