Iris was grateful to have arrived early the next morning, thanks in large part to choosing the dawn bus and skipping buying breakfast in the cafeteria downstairs. Her faux leather bag was heavy with cut-up fruits and vegetables that Byxx had sliced for her, and Iris clutched onto the bag strap for dear life as she strode into GC&S on launch day. The office was already showing signs of activity, as all of the humming fluorescent lights were on when Iris ambled in.
As one of the premier electronics manufacturers and distributors in the country, Gabriel, Cavendish & Sparks had annual releases of new products, from handheld devices and communications aids to appliances and security technology. This launch included a new line of smart devices that could link up to a master “hub” and be controlled remotely via phone, tablet, or computer. It was fascinating technology, to be sure, but Iris never educated herself much in things she could never hope to afford. She knew just enough about each of the products to properly process invoices but knew little else about each product’s specifications.
She passed by the conference room where Warren, Lane, Javier, Jeremy, and Mr. Cavendish were already waist-deep in paperwork, wrapping up loose ends for launch day deliverables. Their being trapped in the glass cocoon of a meeting room was a golden opportunity for Iris to plant the missing drive back in Warren’s office. It felt dirty and deceitful, but she had little alternative; Warren was neither kind nor understanding of those types of mistakes. And besides, would he even believe that Iris took the drive by accident? For all he knew, she could be the malevolent force behind all the corporate espionage that had been happening lately.
Iris pulled out her laptop and plugged it in to its charging cable before beginning her mission. Ducking behind an office panel, she narrowly avoided running into Nigel from HR, who was striding purposefully to the photocopier she frequently helped to repair. Iris couldn’t afford to be detained or distracted now, as she still needed to accomplish her mission to replace the missing USB drive. She crept into the unlocked office after ensuring that no one was looking her way.
Warren’s desk was a jumble of random paperwork, printed delivery tickets, and what looked like a heap of receipts from his pockets. Curiosity got the better of her, and Iris peeked at a few of the rumpled receipts to see what kinds of things Warren bought. Most noteworthy entries were for gas station fuel and cigarettes, but she also spied a signed receipt for a vacation rental outside the city. She wouldn’t have thought much about it, but Iris remembered thinking how silly it was to rent a riverfront vacation home when they all lived so close to the river anyway.
Snapping out of her revelry, Iris searched for a likely hiding place for the USB stick and settled on wedging it between the credenza leg and the opulent desk modesty panel on the floor. No one would have thought to look there for a fallen flash drive, so Iris crouched low and deposited the offending device.
The familiar sound of clip-clopping high heels approached the office door, and Iris froze where she knelt, waiting for them to leave. Instead, the figure tapped their foot impatiently on the ground, which Iris could hear from her concealed position underneath the lavish wooden desk. From the sounds of it, whoever it was certainly had expensive tastes, as only the foolhardier workers would strut around the office in four-inch stilettos. The tapping continued for less than a minute before the figure turned to leave, abandoning Iris in the spacious office.
Iris grabbed a spent coffee mug from the desktop and trotted toward the kitchenette, running into Warren as he returned from the conference room. His suit was a wrinkled mess, and Warren’s slate-gray eyes were bleary and unfocused from having to be in the office so early on launch day.
“Good morning, sir.” Iris clutched at the GC&S coffee mug with fidgeting fingers. “Can I get you some—”
“Whatever you have, make it double. I’m gonna need all the coffee I can get.” Warren pushed past Iris and slammed his office door shut behind him.
Iris sighed deeply in the corridor. She’d gotten away with it, but still found herself tensed and jumpy from her subterfuge. Iris reasoned that she would make for a poor spy or criminal, as even the thought of doing something underhanded made her want to hyperventilate. She collected her nerves and hurried to the kitchenette, hearing hushed voices as she approached.
“I just can’t understand it.” Lane from Accounts tossed another ruined coffee filter into the trash bin. “Why are the numbers so off?”
“No idea.” Javier decanted the foul-smelling burnt coffee down the sink. “We triple-checked against the invoices, so why are the customers saying that they’re missing product? How can it be ‘right’ when it comes to us, but ‘wrong’ on delivery? It makes no sense.”
“Yeah, no kidding. And on launch day, too.” Lane opened and closed cabinet doors, looking for fresh supplies. “This is ridiculous, and it’s making us all look bad. D*mn. Where’s the good coffee around here?”
“Good morning, sirs.” Iris greeted with a cheery voice and pretended not to have heard their conversation. “Are you looking for the dark roast? It’s in the second drawer. I need to make some for Mr. Maker anyway, so would you like me to do it?”
“Sure, go right ahead.” Lane moved away from leaning against the drawers. “Don’t mind us.”
“Is everything okay?” Iris pressed as she readied a fresh pot of coffee. “I thought it was going to be a normal launch, but everyone’s here so early.”
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Javier lied.
“Just put the coffee on and give us some space, would ya?” Lane snapped. “We’re having a private conversation here.”
“Of course, Mr. Babbinaw.” Iris ducked away from the counter and strode to the entrance. “My apologies.”
“You don’t have to be so mean.” Javier lectured Lane loud enough for Iris to hear as she loped away. “She's just Warren’s coffee girl, cut her some slack.”
I guess there are worse nicknames. Iris plodded along. Oh, and I should pop into Mr. Cavendish’s office and get started on—
“Hey, watch it!” Claire blasted at Iris, who had bumped into her from around a tight corner. “Ugh, why are you always in the way?”
“I’m sorry about that.” Iris backed away, cradling the back of her hand that had been gashed by a sharp edge on Claire’s designer watch. “Please excuse me.”
What a wuss. Claire continued on her way back to Warren’s office.
Claire swaggered through the cubicle maze without a care, arrived at the familiar office door and let herself in without knocking. Her abrupt entrance spooked Warren enough that he dropped his cigarette lighter on the carpeted floor.
“Oh, it’s you.” Warren released a held breath. “Geez, you scared me. What's up?”
“Did you see the huge stack of messages that were left from over the weekend?” Claire remained standing and crossed her arms in front of Warren’s desk. “I thought you had the Order Entry girl handle the phones over the holiday.”
“I did.” Warren eyed Claire curiously before stooping to the ground to retrieve his lighter. “Why? What’s the problem?”
“We had over fifty calls unanswered and requests made through the online portal.” Claire tapped her foot impatiently and waited for Warren to meet her stare. “Judging by the amount, I don’t think she was here at all.”
“Hold on, just give me a minute.” Warren abandoned the lighter for a moment, settled back into his chair, and brought up his login screen on his laptop. “Wait a minute. What’s this? No, that’s not right.”
“What is it?” Claire demanded.
“I don’t have access to those logs from my account.” Warren scanned the page for answers. “It says ‘logs submitted from user ialcazar on July fourth.’ Here, lemme take a look on her laptop…”
Claire trailed behind Warren as they circled Iris’s desk like a pair of tiger sharks on the hunt. She meandered around the workstation to keep watch in case anyone saw Warren open and log in to Iris’s laptop, which had been left defenseless when Iris left to make coffee.
“What the hell?” Warren stifled his outrage while his face reddened. “Unauthorized access? What the hell is this? Since when did her account have a password?”
“Baby, leave it.” Claire nudged Warren’s back as she spotted a potential threat. “Just shut it down or whatever. We gotta go.”
If these two were tiger sharks, then a great white approached, smelling blood in the waters. Mr. Cavendish tilted his head and squinted at Claire’s brazen approach, as she tried to block Warren off from view. She made small, hasty steps to put distance between herself and Iris’s desk to buy him some time to get away.
“Happy launch day, Mr. Cavendish!” Claire squealed with her grating, cutesy voice that had netted her many a catch before. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Probably not.” Cavendish dismissed Claire’s attempts to charm him with her enticements. “I’m here for Mr. Maker.”
“Oh, hello again, sir.” Warren paced forward with a veneer of friendliness in his sparkling grin. “Everything going well now with the launch?”
“I’m not here about that.” Cavendish eyed him coldly and raised a hand to gesture towards Warren’s office. “It’s about the holiday phones.”
The two men left Claire standing alone in deep waters, wondering if she was in trouble for skipping out on the holiday phone duties she’d already been paid for. Warren’s voucher didn’t specify date and time ranges, so she thought she was safe from the C-suite finding out what they’d done. Mr. Cavendish’s piqued interest put the fear of discovery in Claire, and she darted back to her workstation in her footwear of mass disruption, nearly toppling into Nigel returning from the photocopier.
Back in Warren’s office, Mr. Cavendish laid his findings out for Warren to defend. It appeared as though someone had already been paid out in advance for working the holiday phones, which was against company policy. He was just about to scold Warren for breaching procedure when Javier burst through the cracked door in a flurry.
“We’re in trouble, sir.” Javier shuffled his panicked body into the luxuriant office. “Representatives from Combs and Helix Limited are on the phones, and are they ever mad.”
“What is it?” Cavendish turned to face the trembling man who’d sweat through his cotton shirt from overheating and dread.
“Several deliveries came up short, sir.” Javier admitted. “And they’re both demanding for us to fix it.”
“This is the last thing we need right now.” Cavendish tightened one hand into a fist before following Javier out. “Get me on the phone with Helix first, and stall Combs. I’ll be right there.”
Once again, Warren had escaped the snare of his own making. All he needed to do was access the pay slip records and assign the early payout to Iris instead of Claire, then blame Iris for trying to “double-dip” on holiday pay. At best, she would be reprimanded for wage theft, and at worst, he’d have to get a new girl to work at her desk. Ultimately, whatever happened to Iris was her problem, and none of his concern.
If only he could get into her laptop. The stupid wench was so foolish that she hadn’t even had a password on her laptop since she started working for him. So why was there suddenly a password on it now? Warren tried a few common passwords before a warning flashed on the screen about unauthorized access attempts.
Warren realized that at the end of the day, he knew absolutely nothing about the woman who worked for him, and he prioritized fixing that mistake as soon as the dust settled on this new launch. Whatever her password was, it was too personal for him to guess, so he’d need leverage to force her to access the account for him. This trap required a totally new strategy, and Warren craved a break from the stresses of the day.
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