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come up through the intern program with her and they were still friends on Facebook, right alongside everyone Wendy had been in elementary school with.

“Marlon, hey—” she said, dipping into his cubicle. It was about big enough for the both of them, which told Wendy she wasn’t overeating.

“Wendy? What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” Wendy said, crouching down beside his desk. If she stood up, she was tall enough to be seen over the cubicle partitions, because apparently Mary had gotten the things secondhand from the Lollipop Guild. “But you know how I got hired by Janet Lace?”

“Yeah—what’s it like having a job? They pay you? You have insurance?”

“Yes,” Wendy agreed, trying to remember if she’d been quite so underpaid.

“You have dental? You can just go to dentists?”

“Marlon, honestly, if you help me out here, I will get you a job over in my division. Promise.”

Marlon lowered his voice. “Deal! What’s the 411?”

“The 41—never mind. My boss thinks your boss is misrepresenting the RadarVoid system, so I need a copy of all the test results on it, unedited.”

Marlon’s brow furrowed. “God…they might be on the cloud servers. No one ever deletes the old files from the draft folder—and you think Borchard is lying about this stuff?”

“Suspect.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t surprise me. The woman’s a witch, works us like dogs, doesn’t even learn our names, barely recognizes any of us. She has these nicknames and I don’t think bread rises around her.”

“What?”

Marlon was typing frantically. “You know, witchcraft? Horses sweating, cream going sour, bread not rising? I brought some creamer from home and it went sour in the office refrigerator! After one day!”

“That is definitely a Warlock or Warlock II: The Armageddon type situation,” Wendy agreed. “Found it yet?”

“Yeah, she ordered something like fifty tests done. You want all of them?”

“Each and every.”

“All right.” Marlon picked up a USB drive from his desk and plugged it in. “If there are any other files on this, don’t open them?”

“Not even a little bit,” Wendy promised.

She heard the hard drive in Marlon’s tower buzz as it started spinning, grinding the data down into the thumb drive. And then she heard heels on the hardwood floor.

Wendy threw herself under the desk as Mary Borchard leaned over the cubicle partition, staring down at Marlon.

“Bradley, where’s the JW report? I assigned it to you two hours ago. You didn’t go to lunch, did you?”

Marlon nonchalantly rolled his chair in front of his desk’s footspace. Wendy could’ve kissed him. Just not when she was under his desk.

“No ma’am—it’s Marlon, actually—and I sent the JW report to your e-mail.”

“Not finished, you didn’t include the PCS file.”

Wendy looked over at the computer tower next to her, in a special slot of the desk opposite the drawers on Marlon’s right. She could see the green light on the thumb drive blinking as it loaded. She knew the model—once the light went out, the file transfer was complete.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to include the PCS file—you didn’t ask for it, and that’s Bill’s job—”

“Should I have to tell you every aspect of your job? If I want the JW report, of course I want the PCS file too! Either have it in my inbox by the time I walk back to my office or security will be showing you the way out! They’re very good at removing undesirables from the premises.”

“Yes, ma’am, right away—”

“What’s the matter with you, anyway? You seem sweatier than usual. I’d like to think that’s all me, but somehow I doubt it.”

Wendy heard typing above her. The green light of the thumb drive was out. If she grabbed it, checkmate. Even if Mary caught her, she could smuggle it out. But if Mary caught her, noticed the thumb drive—hell, if she was smart enough to have security search her—she’d assume Janet was behind it.

Not exactly the peace offering Wendy wanted to send.

“It’s just I heard there was an opening in Upper Atmosphere,” Marlon was saying, “and I was thinking that maybe you could write me a letter of recommendation if I decided to, er, go for it.”

“I think the only thing you could get me to recommend you for is a vasectomy, but it does seem a little pointless. Are you ready to send the PCS file, or should I insult you a little more to give you time to do your job?”

“It’s sent! It’s sent!”

“Good,” Mary said, and Wendy swiped for the thumb drive, yanking it from its USB port and jamming it under the tongue of her shoe.

“What was that?” Mary demanded.

“What was what?”

Wendy heard a few footsteps as Mary came around for a better look. “What’s under your desk?”

She pulled her hair into a ponytail, ripping an elastic from her wrist to tie it off. Slammed on Janet’s glasses. Affected a broad Jersey accent as she crawled out on her hands and knees. “Oh hi, boss lady, you must be Marlon’s boss, he talks about ya all the time—”

Mary stared in a way that made Wendy feel as if she were on a slide. “Who the hell are you? You don’t have clearance to be in here.”

“Oh, no, I’m Marlon’s girlfriend. Jocelyn? He’s mentioned me? Listen, this is super embarrassing, know I’m not supposed to be here, but it’s his birthday and I thought who’d it hurt to come over and wish him a happy birthday? Y’know? A really happy birthday?”

“Uh-huh. Get out.”

Wendy got to her feet. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. B, Marlon said you’d understand.” She put an arm around him. “I just love my little guy so much!”

Mary crossed her arms. “Well then—Marlon—since you see fit to attend to personal business on my time, I’m sure you won’t mind attending to my business on your time. Saturday and Sunday. Be here. And your friend had better be gone by the time I’ve called security. Which I’m doing right now.”

Wendy smiled ruefully at Marlon as soon as she was gone. “Sorry,” she said under her breath.

“Don’t be, I was working this weekend

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