[19]

The next day, or the day after that—some of it blurs—my spy on Larry’s computer sent an alert. A malicious attack. Rebuffed by security. A closer look revealed the attack had been a distraction while an unknown entity had rooted around in his files. Masked which files, exactly.

Evidence of this second thing pulsed on the screen like a dangerous lure. In theory, anyone sophisticated enough to breach our security should also have been able to erase evidence of information extraction. This intruder hadn’t. Instead, the trail stood out in stark relief. A hellmouth. I wouldn’t follow it. This time, it wasn’t the convoluted path back. The answer to the question “Who?” wasn’t worth walking into a trap.

I sat back in my chair, feeling light-headed. Did I need to inform Larry or Alex of the breach? But I couldn’t, not without admitting I’d bugged Larry’s computer. I went round and round, rationalizing … no action. And, in the end, I decided Larry should be okay. IT did routine checks on employees to make sure their information hadn’t been compromised. If this was truly malicious and weaponized, IT would find out soon.

In the middle of me thinking this through, Allie walked in with her report on Silvina. As she handed me the folder, I felt a twinge of concern for her.

“Have IT check your laptop for malware,” I said.

Allie stopped short at that. “Why?”

“Just do it. The latest batch of clients makes me think it’s a prudent precaution to check for intruders more regularly.”

“Okay,” she said, drawn out, slow, staring at me, as if for some secret sign or symbol telling her more. “There wasn’t much, by the way.”

“Much?”

“About Silvina. Enough, maybe. But more about her family than her. Her family’s not just rich but influential—the storage palace is just one property they own in the area. Vilcapampa Enterprises. They run it like a family business, but it’s international. Operates in forty countries. Which made me think they wouldn’t blink at having a data scrub done.”

The kind of task we performed for clients. To protect their reputation. A scrabbling panic that maybe Silvina knew me through the company I worked for. Dim, depressing thought. But, later, when I checked: no. Not true.

“Possible,” I said, dropping the folder on my desk. Trying in my awkward way to seem casual. “Thanks again.”

But Allie wasn’t done.

“I didn’t know you were asking me to research a terrorist.”

Then I did look up. “What?”

“Animal rights activist who fought against wildlife trafficking. Murdered people down in Argentina. A bombing. At least, that was the claim. She even had a manifesto.”

I could understand her confusion. Usually, the moral ambiguity or ethical confusion came from a different impulse. Robber barons and tech bros. Wall Street. The killing a remote sleight of hand. Indirect.

“Manifesto?”

“Yeah. Read something like ‘Liberation for the Earth, at any cost. Liberty or death—death to those who oppose.’ I translated it from Spanish. Very uplifting.”