"What are we missing?" asked Samantha.
Without looking up from his screen, Fred answered: "Don't know. Not yet."
The four of them - Fred, Eddie, John, and Samantha - were all sitting around a round table in a dimly-lit room. Each was hunched forward, staring at a laptop.
"We have a few choices," said Eddie, also without looking away from his terminal. "We can keep trying to put these pieces together, or we can find new pieces. Better pieces."
That seemed to get Samantha's attention because she sat back, blinking and rubbing her eyes a few times, then turned her head in Eddie's direction.
"What other pieces?"
"What else do we have?"
Fred's concentration was dispelled. He sniffed and leaned back in the chair.
"Well. We're looking at the code. We've been analyzing the data we've lost and the security holes that were opened up pretty hard."
"Right," said Samantha. "So, let's assume we couldn't look at that anymore. What else could we look at?"
"Hmm," said Fred. "Server logs?"
John broke his gaze, pursed his lips, and nodded slowly.
Samantha tilted her head from side to side, narrowing her eyes slightly. She let a faint sneer be her answer but, to add flavor, she also moaned a little: "Ennnh."
"Telemetry?" asked Fred.
Eddie pushed an eyebrow up at that.
"Maybe. Maybe." Samantha's eyes were drawn back to her screen and she leaned forward to reach for the keyboard. "Maybe," she added one last time before the conversation drifted into a distant buzz.
She opened up a new connection to the data center.
"What if..." she began but she never finished the sentence.
A few quick queries didn't answer the question dancing on the periphery of her consciousness either way.
Fred's voice finally broke through. "'What if' what, Samantha?"
Samantha shook her head and rubbed her eyes. She had something, maybe, but she lost it. "Nothing. I don't know. I thought I had something...but..." She shook her head, again.
They sat in silence. Samantha pondered...what was it she was missing?
Eddie slapped his palms on the table. The "smack" sound echoed off the bare walls. "We're not going to break this, tonight, guys," he said, "and Samantha. Want the locals to take you home?"
Samantha and Fred both nodded in unison.
The ride home and the rest of the evening seemed to slide through Samantha in a blur of transport, consumption, and passion.
At nearly one in the morning, she stepped out of the shower, dripping from head to toe. As was her custom, she dried in the bathroom and threw the towel directly in the hamper.
She took a moment to examine herself in the mirror and smirked. She worked hard on her body and was proud of it. She knew her husband appreciated the effort.
"Time to put on a little show," she murmured.
She stepped out of the bathroom as nude as nature. Mike, who was lounging in the king size bed, smiled and nodded the slightest approval.
"I hate doing this in your bedroom, Sam," he said.
Samantha's cheeks and upper chest flashed red at the familiarity.
"It makes me feel like a homewrecker," added Mike.
"You mean in addition to being a worthless sack of garbage?"
Mike scoffed, faintly.
"Your turn," said Samantha.
Mike hopped out of bed, also completely bare, and trotted into the bathroom. As soon as the door slammed behind him, Samantha let herself smile a little.
There was something she loved about how wrong the situation was. Her husband away on a trip, her life in danger, police outside her house, and the man she hated most in her bed breaking his bonds of matrimony along with hers.
It was a tornado of chaos in the middle of an otherwise ordered life and she liked that.
Not half a second after the water turned on, a chill swept across her unclad shoulders. She knew her home and knew what that breeze meant.
Casually, she began to reach for the dresser drawer.
"Don't," whispered Kramer.
Samantha remained frozen for a moment, pondering the implication and her options. Her hand dropped to her side.
"Here," added Kramer just barely loud enough to be heard by Samantha over the sound of rushing water in the room next door.
Samantha's bathrobe flopped over her shoulder, landing from what felt like a high arc.
In a fluid motion, she swung the robe around and plunged her arms through the sleeves. Tying the belt as she turned around.
"They're looking for you," said Samantha. "I could scream."
"I'd rather you didn't," said Kramer. "I don't want to have to hurt anyone but I will, if I must."
Kramer stood in the newly-opened doorway. He was mostly shrouded in the darkness of the hallway, outside the master bedroom.
"With whom do you think you're working?"
"Homeland Security."
"Maybe," said Kramer. "How do you know? How would you check?"
Samantha looked at her toes for a moment.
"Who do you say they are?"
"I have my guesses."
"Who are you?"
"I'm sure you have yours."
Samantha adjusted her robe slightly, to ensure better coverage. "What are you doing at InterIntraCo?" she asked.
"How would you know if I was lying?" he asked.
"What do you want?" asked Samantha.
"I want to ask you a question."
"What if I can't tell you the answer?"
"I'm here for the question, not the answer."
The danger of the weapon was losing its ability to hold Samantha's impatience in check. "Well?" she demanded.
"Are you missing something?" asked Kramer, "...or are you just ignoring it?"
(continued here)
