Pulling Strings Read online

  THE TALK in the office all day Monday was about everything that happened at the gala, which included the fact that Judy had bid on one of the vacation packages in the auction but didn’t win, as well as that James had won an item in the silent auction that one of the partners had had his eye on. James, it seemed, was faster. Gossip ran rampant through the office.

  Devon did his best to keep his head down, getting his work done and trying not to listen to any of it, even when the subject turned to him dancing with Marie. He poked his head over the half-wall partition to where Karen sat, shooting her a nasty look, and she grew quiet and suddenly had work to do herself.

  People would talk, and he had better things to do, Devon reminded himself as he packed his messenger bag to go home and said good night to the others. He used the bathroom and then returned to grab his bag and head toward the door. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home for some peace and quiet.

  He left the building, walked through the heat to the subway station, and descended into the stale air. He scanned his pass and went through the turnstile, joining the flow of human traffic toward the subway platform. He held his bag close and continued the familiar trek, waiting in the line until the train whooshed to a stop and the doors opened. Unlike others, Devon let people exit the train before getting on. It was full to the gills, so he stood, placing his bag between his feet and holding one of the handholds as the doors shut once again.

  The ride was so familiar, Devon didn’t need to pay much attention to the stops. His internal body clock told him where he was as they rode south. People jostled in and out along the way, and Devon made sure he had a good grip on his bag with his feet, holding on as the train started and stopped so he didn’t end up on the muddy section of the floor.

  At the stop before his, a large group of people got off, pressing all around him. A seat opened up, and Devon let go of the handhold as people hurried forward. He nearly fell and only managed to grab his bag and plop into the seat to prevent himself from falling. He sighed and set his bag on his lap as the train zipped on to his stop.

  Devon was grateful to get off the train and climb the steps out of the station, up into the fresh air. He inhaled and took a second to breathe before striding through the relatively quiet sidewalks of the residential neighborhood to his home above a drugstore.

  His apartment wasn’t large, but it was plenty big enough for him, with a small bedroom off a decent-sized living room. He had a tiny kitchen, but it worked for his life. Most of the furniture he got at secondhand stores and the Salvation Army, carrying it back piece by piece. It made for an eclectic mix of things, but it was all his and this was home. He loved it… mostly because no one was going to take it away from him. No one would come in from work and tell him that tomorrow they were moving to yet another town, and that he’d have to attend another school with another group of kids that he was just going to start to get to know before he had to move again. This was stable; this was his.

  Devon set his bag on the coffee table and went right to his refrigerator. After pulling out a bottle of cold water, he drank half of it and placed the remainder back inside to keep cold, before wandering into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes.

  He put his shirt in the dirty clothes and hung up his pants and suit coat, along with the tie. He hoped he could get one more wear out of them before he had to have them dry-cleaned. Instead of hanging them in the closet, he put them in the bathroom near the open window, where a steady breeze could air them out for him. He tried to get a second wear out of his clothes in order to save some expenses, but it wasn’t always possible.

  A pounding at his door made him jump. Devon hurried to pull on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, rushed to the front door, and peered through the peephole. Tall, Dark, and Broody stood in his hallway, glaring back at him. “What do you want?” He wished he’d grabbed his cell phone off the dresser before coming out.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said, pounding on the door once more. “You need to talk to me, or else you’ll talk to the police.”

  Devon undid the latch, keeping the chain on, and cracked the door open. “I’m the one who’s going to call the police if you don’t go away.” He closed the door once again, glaring through the peephole. “Go away.”

  “You need to talk to me, Devon,” he said, more softly but with the same urgency. “It’s important.”

  “How do you know my name? Are you following me? You a stalker or something?” Devon leaned against the door, his leg shaking. Damn, he’d been looking forward to a quiet night. “Just go away.” He sounded whiny even to his own ears.

  “We need to talk,” he repeated.

  Devon pulled the door open slightly. “Why?” He peered out into the hall, wishing his neighbor was home, but she was away on vacation for the week visiting her kids. Mrs. Lowenski always knew what was going on and could be counted on to be nosy enough to call the police for him. As it was, he was on his own.

  “I’m not a stalker, and I know you saw me at the gala. You are probably aware that Mrs. Mauer knows who I am.”

  “She doesn’t like you,” Devon said.

  He shrugged. “A lot of people don’t like me.”

  “Let me see some identification,” Devon said, and the man pulled out a card and handed it to him. “Powers McPherson. Private security and investigations.” He turned the card over, but there was nothing else on the back. “This is really helpful.” Devon rolled his eyes. “Anyone can have business cards made up that say anything. Go away and leave me alone.”

  “I’ve been hired by your company, and as I said, we need to talk. Now, we can do it like this in the hallway, or you can let me in.” He wore a suit that probably cost as much as Devon made in a week, and his shoes shone brightly. Powers didn’t look like the kind of guy who would mug someone, but Devon still wasn’t sure. Still, from what Marie had said, Powers worked for Mr. Mauer, and he didn’t want to get in trouble.

  Reluctantly, he stepped back and slipped the chain off the lock. Then he opened the door and allowed Powers to enter. Devon closed the door and moved back out of his reach. “What do you want? And what kind of name is Powers anyway?”

  “It’s a family name.” Powers stepped around him to the sofa and sat down. “I guess manners weren’t part of your upbringing.”

  Devon went into the bedroom, grabbed his phone, and held it for easy availability, then returned to the living room, where he found Powers going through his bag. “Just as I thought.” He pulled a manila envelope out of the bag, holding it up.

  “That isn’t mine,” Devon stammered. He’d never seen it in his life. “I didn’t put that in there. It’s not mine.” Shit, he’d seen enough television shows to know he was in trouble.

  “Then what is it doing in your bag?” Powers asked as he opened it to pull out two sheets of paper and a small portable computer drive.

  “I don’t know.” Devon clutched his phone even as he saw his stable, quiet life flying right out the window before his eyes. “I don’t know what it is because I never put it in my bag. Maybe you put it in there to try to trap me or something. Is this a test of some sort? Maybe an initiation to check my loyalty to the firm?”

  “No. It certainly isn’t, and I didn’t put it in there.” Powers sat back, going through the documents.

  “What is that?” Devon asked.

  Powers leaned forward. “You need to sit down, and you and I have to have a very serious talk.”

  Devon’s knees felt weak, and he slumped into his chair, the comfortable one he usually watched television in, but it now felt like one of those stiff wooden chairs that people get interrogated in, in the movies.

  “What I want to know is who gave you this and who were you supposed to deliver it to?” Powers leaned forward, his dark eyes as serious as a heart attack.

  “I don’t know. It was never given to me. I don’t know what you’re talking about… delivering it. I don’t know what it is, and I….” Damn, Devon’s hand shook and he thought he was going to be sick. “I’ve never seen that before. Honestly.” His hand shook more, and his vision began to tunnel. His heart pounded in his chest, and he breathed deeply. “I don’t know what that is. I never saw it before in my life.”

  “It was in your bag,” Powers said.

  “But I didn’t put it there!” Devon placed his hand over his chest, sucking in air, his head starting to spin. “I told you, I didn’t take it and I didn’t put it in my bag. I don’t know who did, and I have no idea what this is all about.” He managed to get a deep breath of air, gripping the arms of the chair as tightly as he could. “I don’t know anything about whatever this is.” His feet began to tingle, and Devon knew he had to get hold of himself or he was going to end up in the hospital like the last time, and then he wouldn’t have a chance to try to explain and he’d be out of work and….

  Devon took a deep breath and then another. He took the bottle of water that Powers offered him, sucked it down, and forced air into his lungs. “You have to believe me.” Devon blinked and continued his breathing exercises as the tingling subsided and his vision slowly returned to normal.

  “Then how did this get in your bag?” Powers waved the envelope in the air.

  “I don’t know.” Devon finished the water and set the bottle on the coffee table. “I packed my bag the way I usually do when I leave the office.” He reached for it and emptied the contents on the table. “These are my pens and my reminder book.” There was also a roll of cherry Life Savers and some paper clips. “I brought home these papers to try to work through this tonight because everyone kept talking about the gala all day and I couldn’t concentrate. The rest of this is mine, but I didn’t put that in the bag.” He half pleaded because he needed Powers to believe him.


  “Let’s say that’s true. Then how did this get in your bag?”

  “I don’t know. I left the office and rode home on the subway like I always do. The cars were crowded and all, but….” He paused. “Hey, how did you know that I might have this stuff? Were you following me? Did you put it in there and now want it back?” He was grasping at straws.

  “No. I didn’t put it in there, but I was on that subway train. I had intelligence that a pass-off was to happen on the train, and then I recognized you from the gala and figured I was onto something. So I followed you and… look what I found.”

  “So, you didn’t see anyone put this in my bag either?” Devon had to question it. Whoever had done it was good, because he hadn’t seen anyone. “It must have been during the crush. I was nearly bowled over when the car started and a lot of others pressed against me.” At least he had an idea of how the envelope could have gotten into his bag, but why it had been put there was beyond him.

  “No. Because I don’t think it was. I think you either copied the information yourself or had someone give it to you.”

  Devon swallowed hard. This was getting to be a circular exercise. “Then call the police. Have them check out the envelope. If I put it in there, then I must have handled it and my prints and DNA would be all over it. They aren’t, because I’ve never seen that before and I never handled it. Why someone slipped it into my bag, I have no idea, but the person you’re after isn’t me.” He glared at Powers and then held out his phone. “Go ahead, call them.” He was getting tired of this little game and just wanted it to end. “How do I know you aren’t the one after this information for yourself and this isn’t all a ruse? Marie certainly didn’t like you, so maybe you’re trying to get even somehow.”

  For the first time, the confidence in Powers’s eyes wavered slightly. “You really want me to do this?”

  “Yes. Go ahead. Call the police. Tell them what you found in my bag, and I’ll ask them to fingerprint the envelope. Of course, I’ll also make sure they ask you all about your business and what you’re doing here. I’m sure the Philly PD will be most grateful for civilian help.” Devon’s smirk lasted a few moments, and then he sat back when Powers didn’t take his phone.

  “Let’s say I believe you,” Powers said. “I’m not saying I do. But let’s just say. Why would someone drop this into your bag?”

  Devon leaned forward slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe they made a mistake, or maybe they saw you and panicked. Or maybe whoever it is knows me from work and thought I was the courier, when there was someone else they were supposed to give it to. I’m in the dark just as much as you are.” He was calming down, and his mind clicked into gear. “What I don’t understand is why anyone would do this to me. What did I do?” He leaned close, trying to get a glance at the papers. “What are those?”

  Powers hesitated and then slid the papers across the table. “Specifications.”

  Devon didn’t touch the pages but looked them over. “They’re the cover pages for two program specs. That’s all.” He leaned closer. “I’m not familiar with this system, but that’s all they are. There are no details or any information that could be used by anyone. I presume the meat of whatever this is, is on the drive there.” He pointed but didn’t touch it either.

  “Yes.”

  Devon stood.

  “Where are you going?” Powers snapped.

  He glared and waved his hand toward the door. “To the bathroom. You can come with me if you want, but we’re on the second floor. I don’t think I’m going to shimmy out the window.” He was stuck until he could somehow convince Powers that he wasn’t involved in whatever was going on. Devon used the bathroom, then returned and sat back down.

  “I’m still not buying that you aren’t involved in this,” Powers said flatly, without the vehemence he’d had before.

  “Have you checked the files at work? I don’t have access to any of these programs, so I can’t get them. The system controls what I can see. It isn’t like I can check out any program I want. I can’t even get to the program specifications for programs I’m not authorized to access.” Devon leaned forward.

  “What if you were just supposed to deliver them?” Powers pressed.

  “To who? I don’t know anyone outside my own team at the firm. You saw me at the gala, I know you did.”

  “Yeah, quite the social butterfly.”

  Devon chuckled nervously. “I talked to Marie and was so nervous that I nearly wet myself. I danced with her when she asked, and then afterward Mr. Mauer led her away. I didn’t know what to do, so I went back to my table.” He swallowed hard. “I actually had to set a quota for myself of the number of people I’d speak to that I didn’t already know before I could leave. I’m no butterfly—more like a wallflower. So regardless of what you think, I have no reason to take anything from work or to deliver papers or whatever else is on that drive to anyone.” He closed his eyes, trying to keep his nerves at bay.

  “Okay,” Powers said. “Let’s say you’re telling the truth.” He slid the papers and drive back into the envelope.

  “Good, then you can go now, and I can make myself some macaroni and cheese and a salad, and go to bed. I have to be at the office before seven tomorrow, and I still have some things I need to get done.” Devon picked up his bag and went to the door. Powers didn’t move. “What now? I didn’t take anything, and I wasn’t going to deliver whatever is in that envelope. And if you get me fired….” The thought sent a ripple of fear running through him.

  “I’m not going to get you fired. But there’s something you haven’t thought of.” He paused, probably for effect, and it worked, with Devon’s nerves spiking. “If this was slipped into your bag, and it wasn’t meant for you, then someone is going to want it back. And it isn’t going to take a great deal of effort for them to realize that it was given to the wrong person, and then they’re going to come looking for it.” Powers sat straighter, and Devon groaned.

  “Then you handle it however you see fit and leave me out of the whole thing.” He waved his hand. At least Powers was beginning to believe him. “I didn’t do anything to get involved in this. I just want it to go away.” He went to the kitchen area and pulled out the things he needed to make his dinner. He didn’t have a great deal. Old Mother Hubbard and Devon had a lot in common right now. Devon did find the blue box of mac and cheese, and there were just enough fixings for a salad. He needed to go to the store.

  “Do you think that whoever is behind this is just going to walk up to you and ask nicely for the information that was incorrectly slipped into your bag?” Powers asked. “This is part of a huge theft. Someone is after proprietary secrets from your firm, and these are worth a great deal of money… millions. Enough that people will kill to get what they want.”

  Devon turned quickly enough that he knocked the box of mac and cheese on the floor. The pasta spilled everywhere, and Devon groaned before trying to scoop the wayward pieces back inside. “That’s just great. So now what? Keep the door locked and hope that someone doesn’t try to kill me in my sleep? Maybe I could turn what you found over to Mr. Mauer and tell him what happened.” Yeah, that was a good idea. He didn’t know Devon at all and would probably fire him on the spot. He felt the panic attack starting up again and plopped himself on the floor, picking up single pieces of his dinner. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  Powers came over and helped Devon to his feet. “You are the first real lead I’ve had in this case. I honestly don’t think you’re involved in this.” He might just have been saying that—Devon could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Powers was probably just trying to soothe him and calm him down. “But right now, you’re all I have. And I was serious. Someone is going to try to get that information back. Until they do, I’m going to stick to you like glue.” He released Devon’s hand.

  “What does that mean?” Devon swallowed hard, trying to discern the implications.

  “It means that it looks like I’m staying here tonight. I’ll sleep on the sofa and won’t bother you.” Powers stared deeply into Devon’s eyes, sending a jolt of fear and heat to Devon’s core.