Counterfeit Conspiracies Read Online Free PDF Page A

into trouble with Mr. Babbage. He might want to open it himself. Could you bring it here, to the office?"
    "Sorry, ducks." I was grinning so big my cheeks hurt. "Gotta make more chips for the late-lunch crowd, I do. Yer gonna hafta come yerself."
    A sigh escaped. "Where are you?"
    "Jus' go out yer door and head five blocks east, then take a right. Sign in our window says 'Jenny's Chips.' That's me mum, God rest her blessed soul. Can't miss us."
    "Who do I ask for once I'm inside?"
    "Sheesh, didn't I just say? Jenny, a'course. Named for her I was. An' ya best 'urry. Once a line starts formin' you'll need to wait yer turn like ever'one else.
    I broke the connection and clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. When I stepped back into the washroom, I heard the Amazon hustling out of Simon's office, but I didn't move until I heard the key turn in the outside lock.
    There wouldn't be much time. With legs as long as hers the redhead could cover the distance pretty quickly. I'd wanted to make it farther, but that might have meant a taxi ride, and my ruse would have been discovered much quicker. Given all the variables, I could only hope for a good fifteen minutes before she figured out she'd been scammed and returned to the office. I mentally adjusted the time estimate down five minutes, just to be sure.
    My Prada went into a corner of the washroom for safekeeping, and to aid in an unimpeded search. I locked the door connecting this office with the front one, then looked around. The place was a mess. Books lay strewn across the floor, pages rifled for God knows what. Paper in the wastebasket burned to scraps and ashes. Files scattered drunkenly on and off the disaster that used to be Simon's desk. Shredded paper embellished every surface like a macabre party decoration. Credit card receipts were mixed with paperwork on a Picasso. Bills of sale, bills of lading, and bills of office expenses, all crumpled and torn.
    At some point, frustration apparently led to a bottle of Perrier getting thrown at the paneled wall, thin water streaks marking silent witness to the office chaos.
    Strangely, Simon's pride and joy, a three-hundred gallon saltwater aquarium had not yet been touched by the vandalism which dominated the room, its pristine condition a sad mockery to the rest. I don't believe in precognition, but even I had to admit that "something fishy" was going on.
    First, a look at the desk calendar. The leather case didn't take long to spot beside the tipped-over rubber plant, but the pages had been rifled and ripped. All I found was a partial page for the day. Simon scribbled in a meeting for twenty-one-hundred hours, with the name Jones marked beside the time, and a GPS location with DOCKLANDS added. I pocketed the scrap, making a mental note to give the numbers to Nico for a translation I could actually understand. There was no sign of a note on the morning meeting Simon mentioned on the phone, but I couldn't find the previous day's calendar page either, so I could only hope the evening event was a follow-up to the original meet of the day.
    A quick search revealed no laptop. Nothing to do but check the front office. I unlocked the door and moved quickly through the receiving area, finding the computer propped against the wall by the door, ready for the final getaway.
    I grabbed the laptop and moved it to Martha's now spotless desk. Even the pictures of her nieces and nephews were gone. The drawers revealed little except a dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice and a few phone bills. I scooped up everything and stuffed it into my jacket pocket.
    Back in Simon's office, I balanced the laptop and relocked the door, just as I heard noise coming from outside. In front of Simon's desk stood two sturdy visitor's chairs, the upholstery ripped open with a knife but the frames still intact. I grabbed one, wedging the back of it firmly under the door handle.
    The outer door opened, and I was treated to sounds of fury from an