4. Maxwell
CHAPTER 4
Maxwell
The trip downstairs to the Financial Journal turned out to be more fruitful than anticipated. Though Jacob was not as forthcoming as he could have been, he did plant a seed. Who was this employee no one wanted to mention who just so happened to have disappeared after the leak was exposed?
This assignment was shaping up to be much more challenging than anticipated. Working with Kamaya was no hardship, but being around her more and more after that post-wedding morning was extremely awkward. I was certain that I was the only one affected by the shift between us. Kamaya behaved like her normal self, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate.
I should have kept my hands to myself. Putting my hand on the small of her back could have been a huge employee violation. That’s definitely not something to do with a coworker, but it felt natural with Kamaya. Something I would have done for a girlfriend.
Oh, God. Nope. Not going down that road.
There was a reason I avoided relationships now, and the last person I should be thinking of as my hypothetical girlfriend is my friend and coworker. All morning I thought of that day after the wedding. Waking up together felt natural and like something I wanted to happen again.
Though I couldn’t explain why. My frantic thoughts returned to our time spent in the car on the way to the wedding and having fun together over the weekend. Everything between us felt so natural, never forced.
Returning upstairs to our office, Kamaya heads into the kitchen area and begins making coffee. “Do you want one?” she asks.
“Yes, thanks,” I say, still contemplating what we should do next with this assignment. An idea strikes me as I think about the whiteboard in the seating area next to the kitchen.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, heading over there, not wanting to lose the momentum of my new thought process.
I move over to the area and head straight to the whiteboard, drawing a map and then connecting the dots based on what evidence we have. I put FJ in the center and then make lines branching out to connected people or things that could be the cause of the hacking. We were now aware of at least five people connected to FJ : Cecily, Katie, Zach, Jacob, and Franco. Could any of them be the mole? Or could they have hired someone else to do it?
After a few minutes, I turn at the sound Kamaya’s footsteps and the smell of coffee. She takes a long look at the board, studying my work. “What’s all this?”
I step back away from my handiwork and survey what I’ve done in the span of several minutes. We didn’t have very many leads to go on. So far, reticent Jacob had been the most informative and useful since this all started. His insight on the now MIA Franco made a difference, but what about the other clues we had? Did the other four besides Jacob know something they were not divulging?
I still can’t forget the conversation I overheard from Zach during the rehearsal dinner. If only I’d have known who he was talking to. Zach Stapely was number one on my list of suspects.
“I think the first thing we have to do is track down Franco. If he’s a former IT expert for the journal, he could potentially know what happened.”
“Unless, of course, he’s the one who somehow got those students free access. Now he’d be under scrutiny and possibly liable for trade secrets,” Kamaya responds, then takes a sip of her coffee.
“Yeah, that’s a good point,” I say, taking a step back and standing next to Kamaya as I lean against the wall opposite the whiteboard. I can’t stop thinking about what I overheard on Friday, the night of rehearsal. Was now a good time to bring it up?
“What about Zach?” Kamaya asks, eyebrows knit as she looks at the board and points to where his name is written at the top of the chart.
“What about him?” I ask. It’s almost like she read my mind.
“Does that mean you think he’s involved in the subscription leak? You have his name next to Franco’s.”
How did I broach this without sounding like I’m accusing Zach of anything? Yet.
“I just included anyone associated with FJ for now. In fact, I need to write in Mrs. Van Zandt’s name. Maybe this subscription leak is from their competition, or maybe it’s a personal vendetta against her?”
Kam nodded. “I can spend the rest of the day looking into her more and see what we can find.”
I glance over at the board before responding. This was not going to be simple.
“I think some research is best for now and also tracking down Franco is our best bet. He could know the most of anyone.”
“Agreed,” she says.
“Unless Zach knows more than he’s letting on,” I finally say.
Kamaya is quiet for a beat, shuffling her weight from foot to foot. “I’m sensing you don’t trust Zach.”
I shrug, suddenly feeling hot in the small dining area in the office kitchen. I would let Kam know about what I overheard when the right moment presented itself. “I think we shouldn’t rule anyone out. Never know who could end up helping us out.”
Kamaya nods at my words, taking another look at the board before us. “We’ve certainly got our work cut out for us,” she says.
After our coffee break, Kamaya and I return to her desk, since she has three monitors, and begin our research on Franco DiLaurentis, Cecily, and FJ . The office is quiet except for Kam’s typing and clicking as she switches between several screens. Our other teammates aren’t due to return until sometime this afternoon, and our boss is now enroute to his honeymoon to Bora Bora.
It’s Kamaya and me, side by side at her workspace. The sitting area was definitely intended for one person, and with my chair dragged over to sit next to hers, our bodies have been pressed together for the past hour. The warmth of her has distracted me, to say the least.
Kamaya’s mouth is twisted in the cute way she always does when she’s concentrating.
“What?” she asks, subconsciously swiping around her mouth.
Smooth moves, Scott . You’ve been caught staring at her lips. “Um, nothing. I was just going to say I think we have to go by the last known address that came up during the Accurint search.”
Kamaya switches between tabs on the laptop screen and brings the search database up again.
“Yes, I think you’re right. We just have to hope he’s home and hasn’t moved away from the city. Strange how he doesn’t have any active social media. Just an old Instagram account that has been nearly scrubbed,” Kamaya says.
“At least we were able to find a copy of his former building badge ID. I say we head over to the address. Maybe he’s home and will talk to us,” I say.
Kamaya shrugs. “It’s worth a try. We have zero prospects other than Franco. I’m hoping we find him. That is, if he’s willing to talk to us. He can factor in how City University got involved in all this.”
“Should we head out now?” I ask.
“Yeah, I think we should. Maybe by the time we get back, Zach will have returned from Yale, and he can give us more insight on Franco’s firing.”
I practice schooling my features at the mention of Zach. This could be a long assignment, and, as Brandon’s friend, the man wasn’t going anywhere. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll drive.”
We pulled up in the neighborhood of Franco’s last known address. The neighborhood was calm this time of day. Most people were at work at this hour. There was a woman pushing a stroller towards Riverside Park, a few kids jumping rope on the sidewalk, and some others decorating the steps with chalk.
“This looks like a nice, family-oriented area. Hopefully we’ll be encountering a nice guy who’s willing to talk to us.”
Kamaya was ever the optimist. After speaking with Katie and Jacob today, who knew what we were in for. The search for Cecily van Zandt came back with limited results. According to our sources at TSS, Cecily had a clean record, was known for her Van Zandt Foundation and charitable efforts, and she was a devoted businesswoman.
“I don’t see the building number from here,” I answer instead. We’d been forced to park all the way at the opposite end of the block since the curb was lined with parked cars.
Kamaya consults her phone again. “The building number is 513. Looks like it will be across the street on your side, all the way down the block.”
We exit the SUV and begin walking down the block, past the kids playing. The summer heat is now bearing down on us at this time in the afternoon. The city humidity could be too much at times.
I speak up first before I lose the nerve. Something about being away from the office feels less confining, and I grow bolder. “So, you and Zach… What’s going on with you two?”
Why ask a question I really didn’t want the answer to? I don’t know. Kam’s goofy grin while Zach was texting her on the ride over rubbed me the wrong way and had been on my mind the entire ride uptown.
I wasn’t jealous. Far from it. But I wanted to look out for my friend.
Kamaya put a hand to her chest, mock affronted. “Why, Maxwell, I do believe that is my business and also nunya.”
I laugh at her response. Kam was deflecting. “Seriously, you really feelin’ this man? I know you were acting weird in the elevator last week.”
“I was not,” Kamaya says, unsuccessfully trying to defend her behavior.
I just raise a brow at her.
“Okay, fine. I do find him attractive, okay. I’m too old to base how he feels about me off of a few texts, but if I were doing that, I would say he feels the same.”
She clutches her phone closer to her chest like it’s some kind of lifeline to Zach. Or like she’s trying to hide the screen to keep me from me seeing their conversation.
I shake my head. She’s too far gone for this man, and I get a bad feeling about him, but I don’t have any concrete proof as to why. All I have is what I think I overheard during a one-sided conversation.
I wouldn’t be sorry to blame this whole leak incident on Zach, and then Kamaya could get her head of the clouds about him.
“I think that’s the building there.” She points ahead.
From this distance, it looks like we’re approaching the correct one. Though I’m hoping she’s incorrect because there’s yellow caution tape across the front steps.
“Oh no, what happened here? Why is there tape everywhere?” Kamaya asks.
I move ahead and see a sign posted on the front building door that says City of New York in black, bold letters.
“The building is shut down. There’s no one in there,” I turn around to tell Kamaya. “Looks as if this place has been abandoned for a while.”
There’s absolutely no activity around this end of the block, making me realize all residents were removed and this address was our last resort.
“Yeah,” she says, seemingly defeated about the fact that tracking down this employee was going to be a challenge.
“Back to the literal drawing board,” Kamaya states. “I texted Zach, but he hasn’t responded in a while with any info about Franco.”
I bet he didn’t.
“Hold on,” Kamaya says, looking at her phone.
While Kamaya consults her phone for a message from Zach, a car idling on the opposite corner gets my attention. A black town car is out of place in this neighborhood. The window tints are dark, and the driver’s side is facing us. Though it’s hard to see who is in the driver’s seat from this vantage point.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, reaching for her arm and tugging us back to our vehicle.
“Max, what is the rush?” Kam asks, her shorter stride struggling to catch up to mine.
“I’ll explain in the car. Let’s move quickly.”
Once we reach the SUV, I open Kamaya’s door before rounding the front of the car and hopping into the driver’s side. My hands are steady as I move quickly to start the car and get us out of there.
“What is going on?” Kamaya asks again, panic in her voice.
I search in the rearview mirror, making sure we’re not being tailed before I answer. “I noticed that car when we were walking up, but I didn’t want to say anything at first. As we continued to move down the block, so did the car.”
“The whole time?” she asks, incredulous.
“Yes, and the longer we stood in front of Franco’s building, the car continued to stay put. Something told me that we needed to get out of there.”
“I can’t believe I missed that,” Kam says.
“Well, you were looking down at your phone most of the time. At least you have me to watch out for you,” I toss out, hoping to add levity to what could have been a tense situation.
Kamaya shakes her head at my quip, unable to hide her smile. “Okay, Superman. What happens next?”
I begin heading back downtown toward our office, peaking at the rearview mirror periodically to make sure we’re not being followed. “We get back to work. We just have to keep our wits about us, especially when in public. Never know who is watching.”
“What have you got for me?”
He slips into the backseat and hands them a manila envelope.
“What’s this?”
“What you asked me to get.”
They open the flaps and extricate the photographs. These were taken earlier today, just as they asked. It’s a zoomed photo of those agents from Tri-State sniffing around that abandoned building. A fool’s errand since the building had long since been evacuated.
“What else do you have for me?”
He looked on at them incredulously. “You asked for photos, and I just gave them to you. It wasn’t easy. The man…” He paused, pointing to Maxwell in the picture in their hand. “He kept looking over his shoulder. Almost spotted me several times.”
“You did good enough,” they finally answer. “Stay on them until I say otherwise.”
Taking back the photos, he starts to move out of the vehicle but turns back before easing the backdoor open.
“What exactly do you have planned?”
They only smile. “Wouldn’t you love to know.”