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Paranoia (049 of 170) Posted: 13 Aug 2011 09:31 PM PDT 049 —of — 170 Paranoia by Joseph Finder A Message from our Sponsor: Macmillan | Become a Sponsor COPYRIGHT Paranoia by Joseph Finder. Copyright 2004 by Joseph Finder. All Rights Reserved. Sharing not permitted. 25 By now I was working insane hours, and I was constantly zonked. In addition to my normal work hours at Trion, I was spending long hours, late into the night, every night, doing Internet research or going over the competitive-intelligence files that Meacham and Wyatt sent over, the ones that made me sound so smart. A couple of times, on the long, traffic-constipated drive home, I almost fell asleep at the wheel. I'd suddenly open my eyes, jolt awake, stop myself at the last second from veering into the lane of oncoming traffic or slamming into the car in front of me. After lunch I'd usually start to fade, and it took massive infusions of caffeine to keep me from folding my arms and passing out in my cubicle. I would fantasize about going home early and getting under the covers in my dark hovel and falling deep asleep in the middle of the afternoon. I was living on coffee and Diet Pepsi and Red Bull. You could see dark circles under my eyes. At least workaholics get some kind of sick buzz out of it; I was just whipped, like a flogged horse in some Russian novel. But running on fumes wasn't even my biggest problem. The thing was, I was losing track of what my "real" job was and what my "cover" job was. I was so busy just getting by from meeting to meeting, trying to stay on top of things enough that Nora wouldn't smell blood in the water and go after me, that I barely had time to skulk around and gather information on AURORA. Every once in a while I'd see Mordden, at Maestro meetings or in the employee dining room, and he'd stop to chat. But he never mentioned that night when he either did or didn't see me coming out of Nora's office. Maybe he hadn't seen me in her office. Or maybe he had and he was for some reason not saying anything about it. And then every couple of nights I'd get an e-mail from "Arthur" asking me where I was with the investigation, how things were going, what the hell was taking me so long. I stayed late almost every night, and I was hardly ever at home. Seth left a bunch of phone messages for me and after a week or so gave up. Most of my other friends had given up on me, too. I'd try to squeeze in half an hour here or there to drop by Dad's apartment and check in on him, but whenever I'd show up, he was so pissed off at me for avoiding him that he barely looked at me. A sort of truce had settled in between Dad and Antwoine, some kind of a Cold War. At least Atwoine wasn't threatening to quit. Yet. One night I got back into Nora's office and removed the little key logger thing, quickly and uneventfully. My Mustang-loving-guard friend usually came by on his rounds at between ten o'clock and ten-twenty, so I did it before he showed up. It took less than a minute, and Noah Mordden was nowhere in sight. That tiny cable now stored hundreds of thousands of Nora's keystrokes, including all her passwords. It was just a matter of plugging the device into my computer and downloading the text. But I didn't dare do it right there at my cubicle. Who knew what kind of detection programs they had running on the Trion network? Not a risk worth taking. Instead, I logged on to the corporate Web site. In the search box I typed in AURORA, but nothing came up. Surprise, surprise. But I had another thought, and I typed in Alana Jennings's name and pulled up her page. There was no photo there—most people had their pictures up, though some didn't—but there was some basic information like her telephone extension, her job title (Marketing Director, Disruptive Technologies Research Unit), her department number, which was the same as her mailstop. This little number, I knew, was extremely useful information. At Trion, just like at Wyatt, you were given the same department number as everyone else who worked in your part of the company. All I had to do was to punch that number into the corporate database and I had a list of everyone who worked directly with Alana Jennings—which meant that they all worked in the AURORA Project. That didn't mean I had the complete list of AURORA employees, who might be in separate departments on the same floor, but at least I had a good chunk of them: forty-seven names. I printed out each person's Web page and slipped the sheets into a folder in my workbag. That, I figured, should keep Wyatt's people happy for a while. When I got home that night, around ten, intending to sit down at my computer and download all the keystrokes from Nora's computer, something else grabbed my attention. Sitting in the middle of my "kitchen" table—a Formica-topped thing I'd bought at a used furniture place for forty-five bucks—was a crisp-looking, thick, sealed manila envelope. It hadn't been there in the morning. Once again, someone from Wyatt had slipped into my apartment, almost as if they were trying to make the point that they could get in anywhere. Okay, point made. Maybe they figured this was the safest way to get something to me without being observed. But to me it seemed almost like a threat. The envelope contained a fat dossier on Alana Jennings, just as Nick Wyatt had promised. I opened it, saw a whole bunch of photos of the woman, and suddenly lost interest in Nora Sommers's keystrokes. This Alana Jennings was, not to put too fine a point on it, a real hottie. --- A Message from our Sponsor: Macmillan | Become a Sponsor Message from DailyLit Share the DailyLit experience. Click here to invite friends to read with you. Want more? Get the next installment right now. Ideas or questions? Discuss in our forums Need a break? Suspend delivery of this book. Want to adjust your reading schedule or make other changes? Manage all your settings.

Robin Hood (49 of 79) Posted: 13 Aug 2011 09:30 PM PDT 49 —of — 79 Robin Hood by J. Walker Mcspadden A Message from DailyLit Buy this book--or others--from Amazon and help support DailyLit SHARING We encourage sharing--forward to a friend! Chapter XIV: How Robin Hood Was Sought of the Tinker (Cont'd) "What were you saying, friend, about the best plan (ya-a-a-ah!) for catching this fellow?—Hello!—where's the man gone?" He had looked around and saw no one with him at the table. "Host! host!" he shouted, "where is that fellow who was to pay my reckoning?" "I know not," answered the landlord sharply. "Mayhap he left the money in your purse." "No he didn't!" roared Middle, looking therein. "Help! Help! I've been robbed! Look you, host, you are liable to arrest for high treason! I am here upon the King's business, as I told you earlier in the day. And yet while I did rest under your roof, thinking you were an honest man (hic!) and one loving of the King, my pouch has been opened and many matters of state taken from it." "Cease your bellowing!" said the landlord. "What did you lose?" "Oh, many weighty matters, I do assure you. I had with me, item, a warrant, granted under the hand of my lord High Sheriff of Nottingham, and sealed with the Kings's own seal, for the capture (hic!)—and arrest—and overcoming of a notorious rascal, one Robin Hood of Barnesdale. Item, one crust of bread. Item, one lump (hic!) of solder. Item, three pieces of twine. Item, six single keys (hic!), useful withal. Item, twelve silver pennies, the which I earned this week (hic!) in fair labor. Item—" "Have done with your items!" said the host. "And I marvel greatly to hear you speak in such fashion of your friend, Robin Hood of Barnesdale. For was he not with you in all good-fellowship?" "Wh-a-at? That Robin Hood?" gasped Middle with staring eyes. "Why did you not tell me?" "Faith, I saw no need o' telling you! Did you not tell me the first time you were here to-day, that I need not be surprised if you came back with no less person than Robin Hood himself?" "Jesu give me pardon!" moaned the tinker. "I see it all now. He got me to drinking, and then took my warrant, and my pennies, and my crust—" "Yes, yes," interrupted the host. "I know all about that. But pay me the score for both of you." "But I have no money, gossip. Let me go after that vile bag-o'-bones, and I'll soon get it out of him." "Not so," replied the other. "If I waited for you to collect from Robin Hood, I would soon close up shop." "What is the account?" asked Middle. "Ten shillings, just." "Then take here my working-bag and my good hammer too; and if I light upon that knave I will soon come back after them." "Give me your leathern coat as well," said mine host; "the hammer and bag of tools are as naught to me." "Gramercy!" cried Master Middle, losing what was left of his temper. "It seems that I have escaped one thief only to fall into the hands of another. If you will but walk with me out into the middle of the road, I'll give you such a crack as shall drive some honesty into your thick skull." "You are wasting your breath and my time," retorted the landlord. "Give me your things, and get you gone after your man, speedily." Middle thought this to be good advice; so he strode forth from the "Seven Does" in a black mood. Ere he had gone half a mile, he saw Robin Hood walking demurely among the trees a little in front of him. "Ho there, you villain!" roared the tinker. "Stay your steps! I am desperately in need of you this day!" Robin turned about with a surprised face. "What knave is this?" he asked gently, "who comes shouting after me?" "No knave! no knave at all!" panted the other, rushing up. "But an honest—man—who would have—that warrant—and the money for drink!" "Why, as I live, it is our honest tinker who was seeking Robin Hood! Did you find him, gossip?" "Marry, that did I! and I'm now going to pay him my respects!" And he plunged at him, making a sweeping stroke with his crab-tree-cudgel. Robin tried to draw his sword, but could not do it for a moment through dodging the other's furious blows. When he did get it in hand, the tinker had reached him thrice with resounding thwacks. Then the tables were turned, for he dashed in right manfully with his shining blade and made the tinker give back again. The greenwood rang with the noise of the fray. 'Twas steel against wood, and they made a terrible clattering when they came together. Robin thought at first that he could hack the cudgel to pieces, for his blade was one of Toledo—finely tempered steel which the Queen had given him. But the crab-tree-staff had been fired and hardened and seasoned by the tinker's arts until it was like a bar of iron—no pleasant neighbor for one's ribs. A Message from DailyLit Buy this book--or others--from Amazon and help support DailyLit Message from DailyLit Share the DailyLit experience. Click here to invite friends to read with you. Want more? Get the next installment right now. Ideas or questions? Discuss in our forums Need a break? Suspend delivery of this book. Want to adjust your reading schedule or make other changes? Manage all your settings.

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