Terminal Justice Read Online Free PDF Page A

hour, but David’s head was spinning. The more he saw of Barringston Relief, the more impressed he became. “Executive offices are located on this and the fifty-third floor. Your office is just down the hall here.”
    A few steps later they stood before an oak door with a nameplate that read: DAVID O ’ NEAL, PH.D . Kristen opened the door and let David enter first. The corner room was about half the size of A.J.’s office, which meant it was twice the size that David expected. Two of the walls were floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the bay and provided a spectacular view. An oak desk was centered in the room. The carpet was the same deep blue that he had seen in A.J.’s office, but without the embroidered Barringston logo.
    “Will this work for you?” Kristen asked.
    “This is more than I could have ever imagined,” David replied in amazement. “This is gorgeous.”
    “You can arrange the office any way you want. Supplies are plentiful, including furniture, computers, and even art. Ava will help you get whatever you need.”
    “Ava?”
    “Ava is your assistant. She can help you find what you need. She’s also great at research, so make good use of her.”
    “Where is she?”
    “In the office next door. All you have to do is punch the intercom button on your phone and say ‘Ava.’ She’ll be paged in her office.”
    “A voice recognition phone?”
    “Yes, and it works great. I, however, still dial my own numbers. I guess I’m just an old-fashioned girl.”
    “This is going to take some getting used to,” David said numbly.
    “Shall I get Ava for you?”
    David shook his head. “No, I think I’ll take a moment to look around.”
    “After you settle in, give me a call. We’ll have lunch in the cafeteria.”
    David smiled. “I’ll do that.”
    A sensation welled up in David, a long absent feeling—a hint of happiness.

    Light from the near midnight moon struggled to pierce the tinted windows of the office, adding its muted radiance to the soft glow emanating from the two computer monitors. The subdued luminescence from the computer screens provided the room’s only light. A lit cigarette dangled from the mouth of the operator, its end glowing red and trailing thin, gossamer smoke that rose leisurely into the air in a diaphanous dance about the head of the room’s lone occupant.
    The office was as silent as it was dark, disturbed only by the clicking and tapping of rapidly moving fingers on the well-usedkeyboard. Occasionally a vocalized “hmm” or “ah” joined the slight sounds. The typing stopped occasionally to allow the figure to tap the ash from the cigarette into a nearly overflowing ashtray to the right of the computer. The gray-black ash fell, missing the ashtray and joining the other bits of burned residue on the desktop.
    “I know you’re there,” the voice said softly.
Clack, click, click, tap, clack
. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Clack, click, click, tap, clack
. “Just a little hole will do.” Five minutes passed, then, “Gotcha!” The operator hit the return key, and a shrill warbling emanated from the modem. A moment later a computer billboard appeared on the screen: WELCOME TO AMERICAS BANK , GRAND CAYMAN . PLEASE ENTER YOUR ACCESS CODE .
Clack, click, click, tap, clack
. ONE MOMENT , PLEASE . True to its statement, a new billboard appeared a moment later. PLEASE CHOOSE YOUR TRANSACTION . Fingers flew across the keyboard with the right hand moving from keyboard to mouse to keyboard until three minutes later the operator turned the computer off, leaned back in a chair that squeaked in protest, inhaled deeply on the cigarette, and then blew a steady stream of smoke at the moon outside the window.
    “With $300 billion transferred daily around the world, who’s gonna miss a measly $200 million?” the operator asked the empty room.

3
    ABSORPTION.
    David had always considered his ability to get lost in his work a beneficial trait. It served him well