—Hello, Fiona, are you ready to break some laws?
She got back to me ten minutes later.
— Can you not say it that way??
— I take it that means you’re all set. Come meet me at my office.
She didn’t reply, but ten minutes later, I heard footsteps on the carpet outside. I stood and opened the door, and there stood Fiona, her auburn hair shining, her eyes pissed off and wary.
“I still think this is a massively bad idea,” she said.
“And I still hear you, but respectfully disagree.” I stepped out of my office, shut the door, and locked it. “Now come on, let’s get moving.”
She grunted in reply and followed me to the elevators. We rode them in silence up to the top floor, and stepped out onto the administrative wing.
Most of the lights were off. I lingered in the elevator lobby, listening for any sounds, but heard nothing. I grabbed Fiona by the wrist on instinct and held her there, and although she glared at me, she didn’t try to pull away. We walked inside together, trying not to make any sounds, and I had to admit that the place seemed almost eerie in the evening. Only emergency lights shone, casting barely enough to see by. I took a small pen flashlight from my pocket and clicked it on, and Fiona gave me a look, but said nothing.
We reached Maria’s office and the door was unlocked. The inside was as cluttered and messy as before, but it looked somehow ominous without the bright fluorescents. Fiona reached for the switch, but I stopped her, hand on her shoulder.
“Keep it dark,” I whispered then handed her the flashlight. “You check the filing cabinets.”
She gave me a look then shook her head in frustration but started rifling through drawers. I walked to the desk and booted up the computer as I looked through Maria’s bookshelves.
Nothing interesting jumped out at me. I did notice that the bundle of cash in her bottom left drawer was gone, which had to mean something—she probably took it home with her and spent it all. I wondered what a hospital administrator would need with that kind of money, what sort of extravagances she was addicted to, but then again, she could need it for more mundane things. Sick relative, old debts, any number of crushing financial burdens could cause her to take mafia money.
Once the computer turned on, I stared at a login screen, before pulling open the knee drawer. Inside was a Post-It note with a string of letters and numbers written in Maria’s cramped hand.
“Shitty security,” I muttered, grinning as I typed in the password and logged in.
I plugged a USB stick into the computer tower then started copying over files. I did it in big batches, taking entire folders, not discriminating. She had a lot of stuff on there, and I had no clue what I was looking for, so I figured I could go through it all later.
“Look at this,” Fiona whispered, holding the flashlight over a stack of papers.
I got up and walked over, peering over her shoulder. I got closer to her than I needed to, mostly because it was dark, and this was exciting, and she drove me wild. She glanced back at me but said nothing, nodding at the pages.
There were numbers in columns, lots and lots of numbers. “What am I looking at?”
“Financial report from 2016.”
“That’s pretty old. And you know what it says?”
“I’m not an idiot.” She gave me a look.
I laughed. “I guess I’m an idiot, because that looks like gibberish.”
“This is for one particular insurance company. Here, there are more in these folders.”
“Anything recent?”
“I think she has it up to this year.”
“Grab that folder.”
She hesitated. “Won’t she notice it’s missing?”
“I’ll replace it the day after tomorrow.”
She sighed, took the folder, and tucked it under her arm, then went back to searching. I walked to the computer, finished downloading files, yanked the USB stick, and turned off the computer. I stood and watched Fiona for a second, marveling at how far she’d come. A couple weeks ago, she never would’ve set foot in Maria’s office like this, and now she was stealing like a professional. I was proud of her, in a weird way, and insanely attracted to her dedication.
“We should go,” I whispered.
She nodded and stood, folder tucked under one arm. As we moved to the door, I heard a sound out in the main cube farm. I held up a hand and peered around the corner—and spotted a janitor dumping trash cans into the big bucket attached to his cart. He hummed to himself, bobbing his head to a portable radio playing classic rock.
I moved back into the office and put my hand over the flashlight. Fiona stared at me, eyes wide. “Janitor,” I hissed.