The day before, he’d finally worked up the nerve to send a text message to the employment commissioner, suggesting he consider Camille Waterson as one of his replacements on file. Morton had shot back a terse note, essentially telling him to mind his own business. Paul hadn’t told Camille about either message and didn’t plan to.
He put the rest of his dinner on the floor for Lilly, but she wasn’t interested. His little white Lhasa-Poo was a picky eater but he didn’t mind. Sometimes the beat of her heart in his lap was all that kept him going. Paul moved to the couch and Lilly followed to lie at his feet.
He clicked on his wide wall screen and it automatically tuned to the same program as on his Dock. A commercial for a cosmetic surgery center filled the room with upbeat music. Paul reached to mute it. The screen flashed before-and-after photos of a man who’d had a nose procedure. The effect was stunning. Paul touched his own bulbous nose. Would surgery work the same miracle for him? A shimmer of hope pulsed in his chest. Could he make Camille see him differently? Make her want to kiss him?
Paul scoffed at the idea. He’d thought about the surgery before, but the cost was prohibitive. He didn’t have an extra fifteen thousand and wouldn’t qualify to put that much on a credit card. Even if he did, how would he pay it off? He sent a small chunk of his monthly deposit to Isabel so she could afford her diabetes and heart medications. It left him almost nothing to put in savings.
Excited and frustrated, Paul began to pace his apartment. He lived in a one-bedroom unit in the Potomac Towers, where he paid too much for rent. But he liked being close to work, and he made the most of his space by keeping his furnishings and possessions to a minimum. He’d been in the building for eight years, since he’d landed his government job, and he felt lucky for the stability. His college roommate had never found a job and ended up living with his parents, and several of his neighbors had been forced to move when they’d lost their jobs. Not to mention the millions of homeless people.
Paul knew he was fortunate, possessing both a federal job and a partially sponsored med card, but he still had to be frugal because the price of everything had nearly doubled in the last five years while his salary stayed the same. Could he get his bank to raise his credit limit? Could he afford monthly payments at twenty percent interest?
He stopped in front of his window overlooking a small grassy area below. He wanted a new nose and he had to find a way to come up with some cash. His thoughts drifted to the replacement database and the trove of personal information it held. Could he make it work for him? Now that he finally had Camille’s attention, he had to keep her interested.
Paul put Lilly on the leash and rushed for the door. A wild idea had popped into his head and he needed to walk and think it through. He hurried past the elevator and took the stairs, as he’d been doing since his coffee with Camille. In the lobby, Mrs. Olson, an elderly woman who lived on his floor, seemed weighed down by a large sack of groceries. Paul stepped toward her. “Let me carry those for you.”
“But you were headed out and I’m going upstairs.”
“It’s okay. We don’t mind.” Paul slipped Lilly’s leash over his wrist and took the bag. His plans could wait a moment. On the elevator, Mrs. Olson chatted about the high cost of fresh produce, but Paul wasn’t listening. His mind raced with dangerous ideas. He carried the sack into his neighbor’s kitchen, then pounded down the stairs again.
Outside, the cold grabbed him like an icy glove. Yesterday had been sixty, so today’s nearly freezing weather was a bit of a shock. Temperature swings had been common for years, but Paul’s soft, indoor body never got used to them. He wished he’d put a sweater on Lilly, but they wouldn’t be out long.
He buttoned his coat and strode to a nearby park, where he could walk and think. The idea kept churning as he looked at it from every angle. With twenty-one percent unemployment, jobs were a valuable commodity and those that offered med cards were a premium. What if he could arrange for someone in the replacement database to land a position they coveted? What would he have to do? First, he’d have to find someone who was ready to retire, or hell, even needed to be fired. Then he’d have to target the neediest of the three candidates and offer them the job for a price. Would they pay fifteen or twenty thousand? Why not? Level C positions all had high-end med cards, and the savings of not paying for health insurance was worth that much annually.
The real question was: Could he pull it off? Could he arrange for someone to be fired and also manipulate a supervisor into hiring a specific replacement? As a techie in the personnel department, he had no influence on Level C positions, but he did have access to files and he could take a behind-the-scenes approach. The idea excited and frightened him at the same time. It had to be illegal and he’d never willingly broken the law before. He knew how to hack into web pages and social networking sites, but he’d only done it a few times just to see if he could. Paul suspected that posting offensive statements on someone’s WorldChat page might not be enough to get them fired, unless they were already on the edge. He might have to be more aggressive. The thought gave him a burst of energy. He could remake himself inside and out. He could become one of those people who took chances and lived life fully.
“What do you think, Lilly? Can I pull it off?”
She whined to let him know she was cold. Paul spotted a cart vendor and bought a cup of tea to sip on the walk home. Darkness had fallen and he wanted to get back inside before he got mugged. His mind turned to the mission he had planned. Twenty thousand was a lot of money, even for a federal C-Level position. He’d have to scour the database for an ambitious type, then contact them anonymously to gauge their interest.
Tonight though, he would search the net for good-looking actors until he found the perfect new nose.
The next morning, Paul passed through the body scanner in the Personnel and Payroll Management Office, where he’d worked for eight years. He’d seen a lot of changes in that time, and most involved adding security and consolidating personnel. On the other side of the scanner, the female member of the security team touched his shoulder and signaled him aside.
“Didn’t we do this recently?” Paul spoke lightly, hoping his irritation didn’t show. It had been exactly thirteen workdays since he’d been randomly chosen to be searched, and it was the fifth time in the three years since they’d increased security. Others in the building had never been selected. He doubted if they used an algorithm and he was insulted by the insinuation that he could suddenly become a terrorist.
“Did we?” The security guard was coffee-colored and beautiful, but she never smiled. “Set your briefcase on the table and step up to the iris scanner.”
Paul did as instructed, then walked behind the white-canvas privacy divider and allowed the guard to pat him down more thoroughly than the TSA did. He wanted to comment that she was the only woman who ever put her hands on his body, but any sexual innuendo would get him fired.
“Thank you, Mr. Madsen.” The security guard dismissed him, and as Paul headed for the elevator, he realized he didn’t know her name.
As he sat down at his desk, his NetCom lifted out of the flat metal surface and the screen came to life with rotating images, many of Lilly and Isabel. His touched his control pad and a login box appeared. Paul checked the time: 7:40. He still had twenty minutes before his workday started, and he was determined to conduct this arrangement on his own time. He logged in with a press of his thumb in the corner of the pad and opened the replacement file.
Sipping green tea, he began to search for the key elements he’d mentally listed for his target as he lay in bed the night before, unable to sleep: 1) more than three dependents, 2) a salary less than a hundred thousand a year, 3) rapid job changes, and 4) alimony payments. He hoped to find at least several candidates, check who they were listed to replace, then pick the one connected to the most vulnerable federal employee.
Within ten minutes, Paul was surprised to find two prime targets: Darren Fredricks and Alan Rathmore. Fredricks was CFO of MobileTech, a company that produced a line of communicators worn on the wrist. He was a replacement choice for director of technology and innovation. The government job might pay less than what he currently earned, but the medical benefits and networking opportunities would be too good to pass up. Paul opened the federal HR database and uploaded the current technology director’s file, only to find an impeccable service record. Getting him fired would be challenging, even if Fredricks was willing to pay.
Paul moved to his second potential client. Alan Rathmore was a manager for E-Med, a company that created and maintained software for transitioning patients’ medical records into digital files. Government funding for that effort had dried up after the first debt crisis, but hospitals and clinics were still struggling to make the transition. Rathmore was in line for a position in Health and Human Services. Paul’s pulse quickened. The position would be a huge career move for Rathmore and very tempting bait.
