BARE HUNTER

Chapter 6

Instead of firing me, Greg offered me a promotion and a raise and invited me to lunch to discuss improving our accounting methods. At eleven, Greg showed up at my desk. I closed my laptop and locked papers in my top drawer before getting up. We handled sensitive material for several large government agencies, and things had to be kept private. One slip, and we could lose all of the government business.

On the ride, Greg said, “Listen, I want to thank you for all your extra efforts to keep things running smoothly. I wanted to talk about some serious changes coming up.”

“Oh, like what?”

“I’d rather wait until we get to the restaurant to talk,” he said quietly, looking around the car, as if someone was hiding in the back seat, waiting to pounce on us. Then, he motioned for me to be quiet and pointed around the car interior until I got the hint. When we pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, he got out of the car and crawled around the frame, looking for something, apparently bugs of some kind. Finding nothing, he opened the hood and dug around the engine for a few minutes, before pulling a piece of electronic equipment out and pocketing it.

“I had a sneaking suspicion someone was bugging my desk phone and listening to conversations in the car,” he said quietly.

Lunchtime had just turned serious.

“So, why are you sharing this with me?” I asked, totally clueless.

“Some things are going on in the company that we need to keep between you and me. We are having trouble with IT. I need help figuring out if we need to turn them into the feds or not.

“I’m an accountant, Greg. I can find my way around a computer and network just fine for what I have to do. But I’m not an IT specialist. Why don’t you hire an outside security firm?”

Because we can’t have anyone we don’t know see these files. It’s a matter of national security and our company’s existence is on the line, should the federal government get wind there may be leakers here.

“Isn’t that what the FBI does? You know, find saboteurs and shit?” I asked, wondering why I was being dragged into this.

“Right,” Greg laughed coldly, “Hey, FBI, someone is hacking into your files to hold your agents hostage.”

“Oh, yeah. I see,” I replied, finally understanding the conundrum we were in.

“It’s got to be in-house, and you are the only one I trust with this information.”

“But, why me? I’m a low-level accountant. You could replace me tomorrow and not skip a beat,” I explained.

“Why you? You ask? Because you were a sniper in the Marines, right?”

“Uh, yeah. But I don’t kill people anymore. So, what does this have to do with me?”

“I checked into your HR file and called your last company commander. He remembered you. Well. You have a certain expertise that I need.”

“Look. I don’t know what Howard told you, but I don’t do that anymore. I’m a civilian, and I haven’t even been to a shooting range since I got out,” I insisted, sweat rolling down my forehead as flashes of long-range shots played in my mind.

The planning, the measurements, the mathematical equations of velocity, the earth’s curve, and wind speed. All that was in my past and the reason I was taking three different meds to keep from going crazy. A trigger gets pulled ridiculously far from the victim and a splash of bright red blooms where a head used to be. I would not go back there. Never. For no one. Not even for a job I desperately needed