Sketched by David Alan Jones

Author:David Alan Jones [Jones, David Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Falstaff Books
Published: 2021-08-10T22:00:00+00:00

12

Sought and Forgotten

The offices of Run Time Error, one of many companies owned by the Order, wouldn’t have impressed executives from the likes of Microsoft or Google. The five-story tower with the company’s blue and orange logo plastered on top looked shabby next to the buildings surrounding it in Atlanta’s skyline. But that didn’t fool Rose.

Run Time Error, which started life as a computer programming advice website, had expanded tremendously since its inception five years ago, transforming from a two-person operation to a sixty-employee enterprise with a software repository and database backup facilities housed on-site. Much sought after for consulting, they had recently expanded their teleconferencing software to include 3-D imaging with connections to offices around the planet. Much of that growth took place in the last four months after the company hired a young programming phenom named Randall Moss.

A bank of ten turnstiles neatly split the building’s main entrance in half, with a security desk on one end and a steel wall on the other. The guards behind the desk eyed Rose and Matt in askance until the couple clicked their ID badges against a reader and the turnstiles’ spinning arms let them pass. Rose and Matt, through the Order, owned one hundred percent of Run Time Error. The guards might have been surprised to learn Rose’s and Matt’s badges, which they received in the mail that morning, gave them access to every room in the building.

“Not exactly cutting edge, is it?” Matt whispered. “I expected something out of a techno-thriller movie.”

“It’s like every elementary school I ever attended,” Rose agreed. Her heels made an annoying click on the shiny, gray epoxy floor. She wished she had worn sneakers like Matt.

“Elevator’s this way.” Matt pointed to a sign affixed to the wall.

“Shouldn’t we wait on Moss? He was supposed to meet us.”

“Maybe he got hung up.”

They rounded the corner as the elevator dinged and Moss stepped out. Rose, who hadn’t seen the young incubus in months, stifled a shocked intake of breath. The man standing before her looked more like Moss’s father than the slim, energetic hacker she had trained with at Camp Den. His lank hair hung in clumps to his shoulders. An unkempt beard, patchy yet as long as Rose’s hand from wrist to fingertips, sat on his chest like an overgrown spider. He wore wrinkled jeans with an equally wrinkled Schlock Mercenary t-shirt and a pair of brown Oxford shoes so worn the seams had busted in several places.

“Hi, guys.”

“Hey, Moss.” Schooling her face against her instant repulsion—Moss smelled like a cosplayer on day three of a hot con—Rose gave him a hug. He grew stiff, perhaps taken aback by the contact, but didn’t resist.

Matt, obviously the brains in their couple, settled for a handshake.

“It’s good to see you both.” Moss pressed the elevator’s up button without meeting their eyes. “You were pretty mysterious on the phone. What’s up?”

“We need to track someone without them realizing it,” Matt said. “Probably by cell phone, but however you do it is fine with us.

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