Victoria…I gently stroke a lock of her hair away from her eyes. She’s so beautiful, inside and out. Sad, sometimes, but I can make her smile. I don’t want to put her in danger. Not for me.
Maybe I should go alone? Maybe I should leave her here, safe and sound, and go to the Xtera company campus by myself?
I stare at her for a long moment, torn between conflicting desires. I do want to protect her, but that competes with a desire even more primal, a desire to keep her right by my side.
Eventually, my compassion wins out. I can’t bear the thought of this woman I’ve come to care for so much getting hurt trying to protect me. I don’t think I could live with that. It would kill me.
I take one long, last look at Victoria before leaving. Ever so gently, I kiss the top of her head, exulting in her scent and hoping I get to smell it again, soon.
I blink tears out of my eyes as I head for the exit. This is for the best. I’m doing the right thing here. I’m protecting my woman.
Besides, I know the campus better than she does, right? I know it like the back of my hand, except for the liberal arts building, and fuck those guys, anyway. I know where I need to get.
My old office. The fact is, I don’t think I need Victoria, and I’ll feel much better knowing she’s safe back here at the hotel room. Even if it breaks my heart a little to sneak out on her. She’s going to be so mad…
No. I steel myself as I put on my clothes. They’re still damp and smell funny. I need clean ones to do this. This means my first stop has to be a place where I can buy a new set of clothes. To do that I need money.
I look at the stash of cash left in Victoria’s zip-lock bag and take a few bills. It’s not stealing. I’ll give it back to her. I’ll do it even if I get caught. I’ll find a way to wire her some cash…but I need to be positive, I won’t get caught.
I grab the keys to the truck. I never got around to ask her how she managed to get the keys; maybe a set was hidden under the sun visor. Do people still do that?
Even though we went over the plan thoroughly last night, it’s better that I go alone. I can come back for Victoria later. I walk out and get behind the wheel of the beat-up pickup truck.
After a short stop in a thrift store where I change clothes, I drive toward the campus, my jaw set hard. I’ve thought of a possible way onto the campus. Using the word campus is a bit of a misnomer, of course. When one hears the word campus, the image of a stately university comes to mind.
A tech campus is similar to an academic campus in that there are multiple buildings serving different functions loosely grouped together. It is different from an academic campus in that there is cyclonic fencing, armed guards, and security checkpoints. These companies bring in millions, sometimes billions a year, and they take extreme measures to protect their assets.
I know of a weakness, however. Every day, several times a day, in fact, trucks arrive delivering critical supplies to the chemistry labs.
The volatile chemicals have to be shipped in small quantities, so the staff are used to numerous deliveries throughout the day. So much so, they’d grown sloppy the last time I was here. The trucks are so long they have to keep the gates open while the cargo is unloaded. A lab tech is supposed to stand and watch the gates for security’s sake.
Thing is, they never bother. Their building is on the back of the facility, with an hour’s hard hike through rough terrain to reach it other than passing through two different gates.
I’m more than willing to make that hike.
An hour of huffing and puffing along game trails, I come down a steep hill to see I’m just in time. A truck sits in the unloading bay, its engine rumbling. I look up at the driver and see he’s laid back in his seat, hat brim pulled down low to protect his eyes from the sun.
His nap couldn’t have come at a better time. I slip through the gate and into the receiving bay, careful not to disturb the nebbish lab tech as he meticulously opens plastic crates and checks the contents of each one.
I grab a lab coat complete with a badge from a nearby chair. Steve Yakamoto. Fuck, I know this guy, and we look nothing alike. Hopefully nobody will pay too close attention.
I’m on the campus, but how do I get into my old office? The building requires a retinal scan to access. I doubt I’m still in the system any longer, and I’m not about to take the risk on the one-in-one-hundred chance I still am.
I get a flash of inspiration. I grab a roll of duct tape from the receiving bay area and head around back. I place the tape in an X pattern on a low basement window and kick it in with my heel.
I get a couple of cuts squirming through the window into the basement, but I’m in. Now to get to my old office.
I hide a couple of times on my way through the familiar hallways. With a surge of speed and a sigh of relief, I make it into my old office.
Only to find it’s not my office anymore. Of course it’s not. What did I expect? Someone new has moved in, and he’s not happy to see me.
“Excuse me, can I help you?” he asks. I don’t know this guy. Five-foot nothing, a hundred and nothing. I feel bad, but I only see one way I can deal with this.
“Thank God I found you, uh—” I glance at the nameplate on his desk, “Jeff. I need your help.”
He stands up swiftly. “Did the manure samples yield the bacterium strain we’ve been looking for?”
“No, but, um…just look at my fist.”
