“You want to meet the others?” Alex doesn’t wait for me to answer before swiping her key card through the elevator’s security pad. The doors open and I follow Alex inside. We go up one floor, get off. No foyer this time, but the walls are still bright white and the abstract paintings are still enormous.
“Come on,” Alex says and turns to the left. We go, maybe, twenty steps before the space spills wide, revealing a white marble-and-glass waiting area. Two long, red couches frame another set of brightly polished elevator doors. The whole place smells ever so faintly of oranges.
“We use the service elevator,” Alex says. “When clients come to visit, they use this one. It goes to the ground floor rather than the parking deck. And before you ask, no, your key card won’t work on it.”
I nod, slowly turning. Glass walls stretch to our right and left, revealing open work spaces with wide banks of windows beyond them. It looks like a trendy office with computer stations pushed together in clumps and a long conference table next to them. Forty or fifty people could work here and yet there are only three guys on the entire floor.
Alex pushes through a set of glass doors and they all look up, look at me. “Boys, this is Wick.” Alex turns her hand toward me and gestures toward the group. “Wick, these are the boys.”
The two skinny ones wave at me. With their candy-colored graphic tees, they look like nerdy bookends.
“I’m Jake,” says the left one.
“I’m Connor,” says the right one.
“Nice to meet you.”
“And I’m Kent.” The last guy pushes away from his desk to study me, both hands folded on his Buddha belly. Kent’s big—like linebacker big—and has caterpillar eyebrows. Every time he blinks, they shiver. “I’m sure you already know of me. Online, I’m Sever.”
He pauses, waiting for that little revelation to sink in. Wow. Yeah, I definitely know him—know of him, I should say. The guy’s a legend.
“I’m also hungry,” Kent adds. “And I want you to make me a sandwich. That’s how it works around here.”
I shrug. “Not anymore.”
There’s a small cough to my left, and when I look at Alex, she’s grinning. “Well, this is going to be fun,” she says. “We work here most days. Kent’s group leader.”
“Which means you have to do what I say,” he adds.
“And what a joy it is too,” Alex says as I look around. It’s a great space—bright and airy—but sparse too. There’re only the boys, the computer stations, and . . . huh, no security cameras in the work areas. I check each corner of the room, eyes lingering even on the air ducts, and there’s nothing.
“Looking Glass does a lot of consulting work,” Alex says, a little louder than necessary, and when our eyes meet, I can tell she knows I noticed the lack of cameras. “Online securities mostly. It’s how they test what you can do and how you’ll build your résumé. Looking Glass benefits from our expertise and we benefit from their customer contacts.”
“If she’s good enough to stay,” Kent says, taking a step toward me. I have to fight myself to hold still. The guy wears his weight like a weapon. “And don’t think of trying anything on my network. I track everything. You sneeze, I’ll know it.”
“Good to know,” I say.
“So what kind of geek are you?” Connor edges closer. His brown hair needs a cut and he’s wearing too much Axe body spray. It makes my eyes water. “Obviously computers are your thing, but what’s your specialty?”
I hesitate. “Viruses . . . infiltration . . . that sort of thing.”
“Oh. They probably brought you in for that new account, the one with the virus problem.”
Alex shakes her head. “Yeah, no time for that. She has to meet the boss.”
Everyone nods, like this is the most normal thing in the world, and shuffles to his station. I look at Alex and she gives me a well? expression. “Any questions?”
“Not really.”
“Good. This way.” We go through the doors again and, this time, follow the glass wall around until we reach a rear hallway. We’re facing yet another office building, and almost directly across from us, a lone guy stands, one hand at his ear, staring out.
Staring at us?
I slow. “Alex?”
“Yeah?”
“Can people . . . see us?”
She follows my gaze out the window and makes a dismissive noise. “No. Our glass is mirrored. Don’t worry about it. He’s probably just wishing he could jump. C’mon.”
“Wait a second. Look.”
Begrudgingly, Alex looks and we both watch the guy adjust a small light with his other hand.
“Is that . . . a laser microphone?” I ask. “Is he trying to listen to us?”
“Probably. The buildings are really close, and our client list is epic. He could be a competitor. We sweep for bugs all the time though. It’s not going to get him anywhere.” Alex grabs my arm and tugs me along. “Don’t worry about him. Worry about being late to the boss.”
We turn at the corner and Alex knocks on the first door, opening it even though I never heard a response from inside. I trail after her, stepping into a low-lit office. After the brightness of the hallway, it takes my eyes a beat to adjust, and when they do, I stop dead.
The “boss” I’m supposed to meet? My therapist, Dr. Norcut.
6