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"You really think Hamlet is the hacker?"
"He's smart enough and curious enough. If he thought
his job was on the line he just might. But then he's
smart enough to take credit for it even if someone else
did it. He's built up a nice little personal mythology.
Oh, who knows? Just don't tell anyone it was Hamlet."
James agreed. "Hey," he said, "do you
think..." but then a small noise from the corner
of the room interrupted him. It sounded like a tiny
snore and an unpleasant thought crept into his mind
and hung around kicking its heels and waiting for him
to catch up. He tried to cover up his confusion. "Do
you think," he began. "Erm, do you think that..."
"Hon, are you OK?"
"Yes, yes. Sorry. I was just wondering if, erm,
well." He dried up and then found sudden inspiration.
"If our jobs are safe. What did the cashflow documents
actually say? Has anyone seen them?"
A spare chair stood in the corner of the room next
to the coat hooks. Casually he walked over to his coat
and felt in the pocket. It was difficult with only one
hand. With his foot and leg he felt for Sue. Nothing.
He pretended to look in the other pocket. He could hear
breathing close by. He was sure Sue was there. She must
have fallen asleep. He coughed loudly, but the slow
steady breathing continued.
"I guess the hacker isn't going to tell everyone.
Can I help you there? What are you looking for?"
"No!" answered James, more abruptly than
he had intended. "He might tell someone, though."
His leg finally found Sue's. She was asleep in the chair.
He guessed she must have curled sideways so that her
head could rest against the chair back.
"And the point is?"
"Well, if people only tell their secrets to their
ten best friends, sooner or later everyone knows. Maybe
we should ask around."
"We should have asked Hamlet. What was that?"
This last comment was in response to a loud nasal sound.
James reached for his handkerchief and blew his nose,
loudly. "Sorry," he said. "I think the
hay fever season is starting early."
She stared at him but he had to continue the bluff.
"Where did Hamlet go? Like to see if you can track
him down?"
"Are you trying to get rid of me, soldier?"
James shrugged. "Why would I want to do that?"
Suddenly Hamlet reappeared. "You called?"
Kath was laughing. "You have good hearing."
"Psychic," explained Hamlet, and lumbered
into the room.
He picked up James' photograph of Debbie and Ben and
studied it carefully.
"We were wondering if anyone knows what Doberman's
stolen paperwork actually said."
"What it actually said," he pondered. "Fair
question." He replaced the picture and moved further
back into the room, towards Sue's chair. James could
think of nothing more to do. He couldn't rush to her,
couldn't shake her invisible form awake. There was no
way to make Kath and Hamlet to leave. He could do nothing
but sit and watch the scene unfold.
"I didn't see the documents," began Hamlet,
choosing his words carefully. "But I'd say they
probably showed we're in big trouble, that the firm
is going belly up, and that we're all screwed. Doberman
got the gold mine and we're getting the shaft."
He had reached the chair now, and stood before it. "I'd
say Doberman might make an announcement today or tomorrow
that we can all fuck off home and start job hunting.
In a fair world they'd also mention that they're a bunch
of incompetent bastards, but they'll probably skip that
part." It was probably the longest speech he'd
ever given.
He noticed a pack of gum on Kath's desk. "Can
I take one of those?" he asked. Mercifully he moved
away from the chair and James started to breathe again.
"I'd say that's probably what the person who saw
the papers might have seen."
He returned to the chair and sat heavily into it. James
winced and waited for a scream or the sound of breaking
bones. When he opened his eyes, Hamlet was sitting happily
in the chair, looking at him. "S'matter?"
"Toothache," James lied.
Suddenly he felt warm air close to his left ear and
he heard Sue whisper. "Sorry. Fell asleep."
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