Sarif Industries

09:00:54

The day started. I got up, showered and dressed for work, and tried not to look at myself in the mirror. It had taken long enough for my landlord to replace the last one. I didn't need to break another one.

Cindy greeted me as I walked in. I don't remember if I replied or not. It's been getting harder to care. Since Panchaea, since… Megan. I hadn't seen her since the lab in Singapore. I'm still not sure if it's a good thing or a bad one.

I made it to my office without any major disasters; then again, things had stabilized since I got back. I logged in and checked my emails. There was nothing new from the Boss, or Athene. It was Monday, so I was supposed to have a security review from Pritchard. He was usually in before me to complete it, but it wasn't too out of place that he was occasionally late with it. So I read the report from Haas. He'd become my night physical security manager shortly after hiring on. Seemed nothing out of place had happened last week. Some taggers around the back, but nothing serious. Of course not.

I guess I should be happy that things had become so normal. I just feel restless. It's hard to go back to normal. To have to face myself now. It was easy to ignore the changes, when I was travelling halfway around the world to find the truth. Now that I'd found it… I just wanted to lose myself in something new. Preferably before I break another mirror.

I broke from my distraction. No email from Pritchard. I drummed my fingers on my desk. The augment made a different sound than fingers would, and I stared at the black hand. With a sigh, I rose from my desk. I'd go to Pritchard directly and find out what the problem was. I nodded to the coworkers that greeted me along the way, but avoided conversation. After everything else, small talk was just an annoyance.

Pritchard's office was locked. I looked through the looking-glass, but the Chief of Cyber Security didn't appear to be inside. There was also a distinct lack of chesire cats and angry red queens. I shook my head at the thought, but a small alarm went off in the back of my mind. For as long as I could remember, Pritchard had never missed a day of work. I shook my head. That doesn't mean anything is wrong. I hacked the door panel anyways. Pritchard had probably changed the code again, and hacking it would at least annoy him.

I entered the office. It was as it ever was. Bike being repaired on a piece of cardboard, computer monitors in an arch, various items scattered across the floor. Pritchard's backpack was missing, so the tech definitely wasn't here. Staying my (probably) unnecessary excitement at the prospect of something interesting, I went to Pritchard's desk. Nothing seemed out of place as I slowly took a seat. I booted up the screen, then hacked into the box. Pritchard had upped his security again. I felt the faint tug of a smile, once. If the tech lead kept this up, I'd never have to worry about getting out of practice.

I scanned Pritchard's email. Another pitch to Picus? I shook my head. He'd never learn. Then I paused. I reread the email, Pritchard's reply to one of his subordinates from Friday.

Dennis,

I see the problem you're talking about with the malformed SYN packets. It doesn't seem to be a major issue, so we'll put it on the back burner until Monday. But no later than that. I don't want this to become a major issue.

That didn't sit well with me. If there was a problem with the network, even one I didn't understand, Pritchard would be here to look into it.

"Frank! What the hell are you trying to-"

I looked up as a short, dark-haired woman burst into Pritchard's office. She stopped short seeing me. Apparently, I wasn't the only one looking for the Chief of Cyber Security.

"Oh… sorry, I was looking for Frank. You must be… uh… security guy!" she said, with a snap of her fingers. She had her hair cut at her chin, and it seemed like it flared out around her head. Her eyes were dark, and sported light bags. I raised a brow.

"And you are?" I asked. The woman blinked.

"Huh. Frank said you were a pain in the ass. Thought he would have mentioned the sexy voice," she said, walking right in and half setting/half dropping a stack of papers on the couch. She marched right up to the desk and held out her hand. "Then again, I guess Frank wouldn't really notice that. Shauna Sullivan."

"Adam Jensen," I said, looking at my hand and glancing at Shauna's. I debated a moment too long, and she retracted it.

"Think I like 'security guy' better," she said, coming around the desk. She raised a brow. "Though an odd one that hacks his coworkers computers."

"Penetration testing," I said automatically. It had become a recurring argument with Pritchard, and that reason seemed to be the only acceptable one.

"Riiight," Sullivan said. "So, guessing you haven't heard from Frank either?"

"... what is it you do, Ms. Sullivan?" I asked. She put her hands on her hips. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, revealing her tattoo sleeves of butterflies.

"Shauna or just Sullivan. I'm basically the night version of Frank," she said. "Which I kind of hoped the security guy would know. But you can ask Haas if you don't believe me. You wouldn't believe how many people don't believe I work here."

I arched a brow. Between the tats, the earrings up the side of her left ear, and the dark eyeshadow and black lipstick, it really wasn't that difficult to believe. In fact, I was pretty sure most of those things were against the company's dress code. This Sullivan probably got away with it because she worked at night.

"I'll take it into consideration," I said, and Sullivan yawned.

"You do that," she said. "But, I've been up since about 6pm, so if you don't mind, find Frank first. I'd like to give him a piece of my mind."

"Is Pritchard usually on time?" I asked. Sullivan scoffed, leaning on the desk.

"He's usually a couple hours early," she said. "Otherwise, he calls to let me know when he'll be in."

"But he's never missed a day?" I pressed. Sullivan arched a brow.

"He's like the Pony Express. Not rain nor hail nor sleet nor riot nor 'security guy' will keep that man from his job," she said. She looked around, the grabbed a stack of post-its. "Listen, Frank told me to never give this number to anyone, but I'm not very good at listening, so here."

"Thanks," I said, taking the offered sticky note. I stood up, and Sullivan immediately filled the chair in my absence. She seemed to be falling asleep, but I could see she was watching me, as well.

"Fair warning, I've already tried it like five times," she said. I ignored her and dialed through my infolink. After several failed connections, Pritchard picked up.

"Listen, Shauna, I'm sorry I didn't call-"

"Pritchard," I said, to clear up the confusion. There was a pause.

"Yes, look, I know I said I'd let you know if I'd be in late, and I understand you've been working all night," the tech continued as if I hadn't spoken. I glanced at Sullivan. She couldn't hear the conversation, but something in my look despite the shades had her up and typing.

"I understand, just tell me what you can," I said, walking behind the woman. She was pulling up the employee GPL database. Smart.

"Listen, I'll be honest," Pritchard went on for his audience. "I ran into some old friends and went out for some drinks. I have a massive hangover, so just cover for me, alright? I've covered for you enough times."

"It's not coming up," Sullivan said, though I could already tell from the screen that she couldn't trace Pritchard's GPL. A jammer? I tried to be more concerned than excited at the prospect of Pritchard somehow being kidnapped. To be honest, I didn't really succeed.

"You know where the keys to the server room are, and for God's sake don't let that rodent in my office!" Pritchard went on.

"Really hoping you're telling me something useful here, Francis," I said. I could hear the small noise of frustration on the other end. Of course I'm giving you something useful, Jensen, it seemed to say. I just hope you're competent enough to figure it out.

"Oh, and one more thing," the tech said instead. "Make sure Jensen does his damn job."

"I'll see he gets the message," I said. Pritchard said something else as a dismissal, and cut the connection. I looked down at Sullivan. "He mentioned something about keys."

"Something something 'where our kleptomaniac security manager won't find them'," the woman said, leaning down and pulling up a floor panel. She tossed the set of keys up lightly and I caught them. She seemed preoccupied now, doing something on the computer.

"He also said something about not letting a rodent in his office," I said. Sullivan chuckled.

"Yeah, that one was actually for me," she said. I thought about asking, then decided against it. Instead, I called Sarif.

"Boss?" I asked, when Athene put me through.

"What is it, Adam?" David asked. He sounded chipper as usual.

"I think we might have a problem," I said. "Pritchard hasn't shown up to work today. I think something might have happened to him."

"What makes you say that?" Sarif asked. His voice had gained that calculating undertone that meant he was taking this seriously.

"Managed to call him, but the phone call was off," I said. Suddenly, a marker popped up on my HUD. I glanced at Sullivan.

"Frank's address," she said. "At least, the one on file."

"Adam," David said, "Are you sure you're not overreacting here?"

I ground my teeth. He'd dismissed my concern. He probably knew how much I wanted something like this to happen. I'd have to be careful now.

"Maybe, but I'm going to look into it to make sure," I said.

"Well, do what you think you have to," the boss said. He's patronizing me. "But don't take too long. If it's nothing, I don't need my security manager chasing ghosts."

"Got it, Boss," I said, ending the connection.

"Vibration detection augs don't sound half as annoying as watching someone use them is," Sullivan said. "It's worse than only hearing half a phone call."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," I said.

"No you won't," Sullivan said. "Now get moving. I'll play Frank and give you any tech support you need from here."

"Thanks," I said, a little wary. Sullivan looked up at me.

"Just get him back," she said. I blinked. I didn't really think Frank had friends. Ever. But Sullivan looked serious. I nodded.

"I will," I said, and left.

Frank Pritchard's House

14:23:34

Pritchard's address turned out to be a large house a couple hours outside the city. I looked it over. Didn't think of Pritchard as the Victorian architecture, or house at all, type…

I walked up to the front door and pulled out the keys from the office. It took a couple tries to figure out which one was to the house. The door was still locked, with no signs of forced entry. I looked around. It was a reception area, a table with a bouquet in the middle. Is this really Pritchard's house? I closed and locked the door behind me. I scanned the house, and used my augs to see through the walls. There was one person further in. I moved quietly through the halls, coming to a kitchen. I peered around the corner, then stared in disbelief.

"Arie van Bruggen," I said. The man jumped and turned around to face me.

"Hey, Sarif-man," he said. I walked into the room. "Have to say, I wasn't expecting to ever see you again."

"What are you doing here, Arie?" I asked. Van Bruggen held up his hands.

"Whoa, whoa, Enes said it was cool, man," he said. I crossed my arms.

"Enes?" I asked.

"Yeah, Nucl3arsnake. Ah. Frank, I mean," he said. "I needed to lay low, and I… persuaded Enes to let me."

"Persuaded?" I asked. Arie made a face.

"Alright, maybe persuaded is the wrong word," he said. "We… compromised. Enes gave me a place to lay low, and I didn't share some files about him I found."

"I think the word you're looking for is extortion," I said. "And you've got five minutes to tell me why I shouldn't get you arrested for it."

"Whoa, whoa, Sarif-man," Arie said. "It's not like Enes even lives here. He just comes during the weekend and holes up in his study, then leaves. I'm usually here alone, though I don't know why a man with a house like this wouldn't use it."

"Lucky for you, that information's useful," I said, uncrossing my arms. "But if you're still here by the time I get out of that study, I'm going to 'persuade' you out the door personally."

"Alright, alright, I got it," Arie said. The threat was mostly empty. I didn't plan on coming back, so he could just go on blackmailing Pritchard after I left. Why didn't he come to me about it? What files were that important to him?

The study looked even less like somewhere Pritchard worked compared to the house. There was a prominent antique wooden desk in the middle of the room, and an old-fashioned globe in another corner. Paper books filled the shelves behind, all hard backs that gave off a musty smell. The carpet was a dark green shag, and a bear pelt was on the floor. There was even a fireplace with an ornate wooden mantle. About the only modern thing in the room was the computer, and even that was old. I sat in the plush leather chair, and booted up the box. The chassis was old, but the program on it was not. It took me a good five minutes to hack into it.

"Do you always hack any computer in the room? Because, if so, I'm glad you've never found the basement," Sullivan chimed in through the infolink. I ignored her, scanning the emails.

Frank,

I'm telling you, it's like she's disappeared off the grid. I mean, the foster care records were dodgy to begin with, but you know how Abandoned works. Any record that did exist is gone now. Plus, she was a junky. I can't even say for certain she hasn't just ODed in some back alley.

That was interesting. I read more.

Carson,

Yes, I do know how Abandoned works, as you like to point out on a regular basis. She isn't dead. If she were, you'd know. I'm paying you to find her, but I can just as easily find someone more competent, so either do your job or I'll make you wish you had.

Threats from Pritchard? Exactly who was he trying to find? I scanned the other emails, but none revealed the mysterious woman Pritchard was looking for, or what Abandoned was. I started looking through other files, finding a folder labeled 'Carson'. Curious, I opened it.

"If you find any embarrassing baby pictures, email them to me," Sullivan said. I fought the urge to sigh. She certainly liked to talk.

"You know, you could do something more productive, like-"

"Find out what files windmill took?" Sullivan asked. "Working on it. And looking up this Carson guy. Would help if I knew if it was a first or last name. Still no signal from Frank's GPL."

I didn't say anything, pausing at the pictures. One was of a younger Frank, smiling with a girl around his age. It looked a bit crumpled, like a picture that had been scanned in. They looked similar, like siblings.

"Sullivan, does Pritchard have any siblings?"

"Let me check… no, none on file," she said. I drummed my fingers on the desk. I sent the picture to my email at work, just as an elderly Asian woman came in the door.

"Oh, excuse me," she said, and I logged out of the computer. "I didn't know Mister Adams had another guest."

"Mr. Adams?" I asked. The woman put a hand to her mouth in surprise.

"Oh, excuse me," she said. "I mean Mr. Pritchard. I forgot that he finally changed his name."

"Why would he do that, Mrs…?" I asked, standing. The woman waved her hand.

"Miss Siu," she said. "And I don't know if I should tell you, it's rather personal. Ah, Mister…?"

"Jensen," I said. "I'm Pritchard's… coworker. He didn't show up for work today, and I'm trying to find out why."

"Well, did you check his apartment in the city?" Miss Siu asked. "That's where Mister Adams usually stays."

"Found it," Sullivan said, the address popping up.

"No, I didn't know he had one," I said. "I'll try there next."

"Is Mister Adams alright, Mister Jensen?" Miss Siu asked. I paused. "I mean, I'm just the cleaning lady, but I do worry. He was always in and out of trouble, when Master Pritchard was adopting him…"

"He was adopted?" I asked.

"Looking," Sullivan said. Meanwhile, Miss Siu let out a little gasp.

"Oh, excuse me," she said. "I didn't mean to mention it."

"It's alright," I said, walking around the desk. "I'll be checking out Pritchard's apartment. I'll let you know if anything is wrong, Miss Siu."

"Oh, thank you, Mister Jensen," the woman said. "You're a good boy."

"...thanks," I said, leaving the room.

"If it helps, I could get you some doggie treats," Sullivan said.

"Very funny," I said. "Did you find the adoption records?"

"I'm working on it, I- huh," she said. "Well then."

"What?" I asked.

"The files Arie van Bruggen got? They were the adoption records. Someone went to a lot of trouble to bury these, security guy," Sullivan said.

"Keep digging," I said. "I'm heading to Pritchard's apartment."

"Got it," Sullivan said.

Frank Pritchard's Apartment

16:47:03

Pritchard's apartment was in a slightly less run down building than some, but not as good as the Chiron building. I looked around. There was a small parking garage across the street. I went in, looking around.

"To your left," Sullivan said, and my HUD highlighted the bike. I walked up to it, looking it over. It was a similar model to the one in Pritchard's office. That it was still here could mean anything at this point. I glanced up and noticed the security camera. It had been shot, and hung uselessly. "That's not comforting."

"No, it isn't," I said. I left the parking garage and jogged into the building. There was someone at the front desk, and a security guard nearby. I walked right through to the elevator without a single word. That's not very comforting, either.

Pritchard lived on the fifth floor. His apartment was in the middle of the hall. I scanned for anyone inside, but found no one. I looked at the security panel. It was broken. I tried the door, and it opened.

Sullivan let out a whistle as I walked inside. The apartment had been trashed. Furniture was cut open and game consoles had been smashed. I walked through, looking for anything useful. The computer was in no better shape than the rest of the place. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the wall next to the computer was slightly whiter than the rest. I tapped against it, the went to the other wall and tapped again. The whiter wall was hollow.

"Jesus, security guy!" Sullivan said as I punched through the hollow wall. Pritchard and van Bruggen are more alike than they probably think… I poked my head in. There was a small monitoring system, and a screen showing white noise. The other screens showed images of the lobby and hallway. Didn't know Pritchard was paranoid enough to hack the security feed…

I logged in, sending the recorded files for the weekend to a thumb drive that happened to be in the room.

"Go home and get some sleep, Sullivan," I said, pocketing the drive and stepping out of the hidden room. "Tomorrow is going to be a long day."