Free Unleashed by Sigmund Brouwer Page B

smiled for the benefit of whatever camera was here.
    “All I wanted to do,” I said, “was drop off the payment, like I promised. I hope you discover that I’ve paid you back in full.”
    His eyes returned to the screen. And to the PowerPoint file, where he could see the next photo of a note hanging from a fishing line.
    WE KNOW YOU WENT TO MY FATHER AND LET HIM HIRE YOU TO FIND OUT WHY I’D HIRED YOU TO LOOK INTO THE DISCIPLINARY HEARING
    “Speaking of needing proof in court,” Schmedley said, “incriminating emails can be traced.”
    “Yes,” I said. “They can.”
    Hence the throwaway.
    DID YOU DO THAT BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD MAKE A LOT MORE MONEY OFF HIM THAN OFF ME?
    “Libel is also a criminal act,” Schmedley said. “Libel consists of an accusation that hurts someone’s reputation and that can be proven in a court of law.”
    “Absolutely,” I said. “And what accusation would that be? We are just having a conversation here, and I can’t quite follow it. So please—explain. What accusation have I made against you?”
    “Nice try,” he said.
    “Something happening on your monitor?” I asked.
    AFTER ALL, UNTIL YOU LEARNED I WAS HIS SON, YOU THOUGHT I WAS JUST SOME INNER-CITY KID TRYING TO SCORE WITH SOME KIND OF BLACKMAIL
    He flipped me the bird.
    “I notice that you are distracted by incoming emails,” I said. “I can leave if you want. Or we can continue to discuss all of your services. And I mean all of them.”
    I pointed at his monitor, where I knew the next photo on the cubicle door would appear as part of the PowerPoint file he had opened. A photo of a note he knew I had written for him to read.
    HOW DO I KNOW IT WAS YOU? REMEMBER THE NOTES YOU SHOWED ME WHILE I WAS DUCTTAPED TO A TOILET? NOTES PRINTED FROM A COMPUTER INSTEAD OF HANDWRITTEN? YOU WROTE THE SEQUENCE OF NOTES ON YOUR COMPUTER. TRASHING FILES DOESN’T DELETE FILES. YOU HAVE TO OVERWRITE THE LOCATION ON THE HARD DRIVE WITH ANOTHER FILE .
    “I’m wondering,” I said. “Have you ever stored inappropriate photos of yourself on your hard drive? Because that would be embarrassing if people saw you in a different light, wouldn’t it? If they saw you doing very private things that aren’t socially appropriate.”
    AS YOU ARE READING THIS, YOUR EMAIL PROGRAM HAS SENT OUT A PHOTO OF YOU TO EVERY CONTACT IN YOUR ADDRESS BOOK. YOU’LL HAVE TO GUESS WHICH PHOTO. BUT THERE WERE A LOT TO CHOOSE FROM THAT MAKE YOU LOOK BAD. REALLY BAD.
    I could see by Schmedley’s face that Bentley and I had scored a direct hit. His sloppy pale face turned even paler.
    “Enjoying the conversation?” I said. “You don’t want to miss any of it.”
    WE HAD FULL ACCESS TO YOUR COMPUTER. AND THE BACKUP DRIVE ATTACHED TO IT. AND FULL ACCESS TO THE CLOUD WHERE YOU HAD BACKED IT UP IN CASE YOUR HARD DRIVE FAILED. WHEN YOU SEE THE CLOWN FACE ON YOUR SCREEN, THE SOFTWARE PROGRAM TO DESTROY ALL YOUR DATA HAS JUST COMPLETED ITSTASK, INCLUDING THE DELETION OF ALL YOUR EMAILS ON YOUR SERVER.
    It took him a while to absorb that message. I was okay waiting. Putting it on the computer monitor meant that this conversation couldn’t be recorded. And that Bentley and I had the satisfaction of letting him know we knew what he’d done.
    His expression was a combination of anger and horror when he turned back to me.
    “It’s a dangerous world,” I said. “I sure appreciate your help in learning how dangerous it can be. Think others might hire you in the future?”
    Again I pointed at the screen. “You seem distracted by emails. Don’t worry about me. Go ahead and read whatever has been sent to you.”
    I felt savage satisfaction. He had no doubt whatsoever that the silent, onscreen conversation was everything I wanted to say to him out loud in his office.
    WE HAVE YOUR DATA. IT WOULD BE BEST IF YOU DIDN’T LOOK FOR WORK AGAIN. FUTURE CLIENTS WILL GET EMAILS LETTING THEM KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO FORMER CLIENTS.
    “Only one thing remains,” I said.
    I