A/N: First, let me just apologize for taking so long to update this story. This chapter was difficult to write, however, and I ended up doing a lot more revision than I normally do, and I'm still not sure I'm satisfied with how it turned out. So please be as brutal as you think necessary in your reviews. I'd also like to thank those who have reviewed it heretofore. Rhapsodyenigma, I think the reason it might not be getting lots of reviews is that I'm cross-posting it at livejournal, and a lot of people are reviewing it there instead of here. But I'm grateful for all reviews, wherever they're posted, so thank you all. Again, italics are Duncan's thoughts.
11:26am
The VenTech office building was a four-story metal-and-glass structure on the outskirts of Palo Alto. After they arrived, Duncan parked just down the block at an angle from which they could see the building's main entrance.
"Now what?"
"Just a second," replied Veronica, turning around in her seat and reaching into the back of the Mercedes for her duffel bag. She withdrew from it what looked like nothing so much as an assault rifle with a rocket-propelled grenade attached to the front.
So either your plan is for us to blow in the door and shoot our way in to get the file, which I wouldn't put past you right now, or...
"Is that one of those Bluetooth rifles?"
"Uh-huh. I have to say, it's made my job so much easier. I used to have to figure out ways to plant a bug or a camera on someone, but now, people carry them around for me. I just need to hack into them with this puppy." She trained the rifle on the building.
"You'd better be careful then. You wouldn't want to rely too much on fancy toys and let your skills get rusty. You might start getting soft."
"Wouldn't want that."
I might.
"And we're in. Ooh, and look, he has a digital camera on his cell phone too."
Putting down the rifle, Veronica called up the feed on her laptop. Judging from the angle, Selkirk seemed to keep his cell phone in his shirt pocket, which gave them a reasonably good view of what he was working on. The sound was good, although there was not much to hear, mostly just Selkirk typing and occasionally mumbling to himself as he worked.
Looking at what was on Selkirk's screen, Duncan asked "does that look like the Data Express thing we're looking for?"
"I think so. The name of the file at the top of the window looks like it says 'FastFile,' but I'm not enough of an expert on C to be sure just based on what we can see here."
"Didn't my dad give you something to identify the code with?"
"He told me what to look for, but I still need to see more of it to be certain."
"Still, once we're sure this is it, shouldn't this be enough?"
"What do you mean?"
"This footage'll prove that Selkirk's working on a file he stole from Kane Software, and that'll be enough for the lawyers, right? We can just go."
"Your dad said he wanted a copy of the code."
"So how do you plan to get it?"
"First, I plan to keep watching, just to make sure that this is what he's working on. If it is, hopefully when he goes to lunch or whatever, he'll log out and have to log back in when he comes back. That'll give us the file location and the password—I'm assuming it's encrypted somehow, and that the security is tough enough that I won't just be able to get the password out of the keyboard buffer."
1:04pm
Selkirk had gone to lunch at just a few minutes before noon. By that point, Veronica had confirmed that 'FastFile' was definitely 'DataExpress,' and had seen which folder it was located in on Selkirk's hard drive. Now that he was finally returning from lunch, Veronica hoped to get the password too. Selkirk sat back down at his desk and opened data express. When he typed in the password at the prompt, the only thing displayed on the screen were asterisks.
"Okay," said Veronica, rewinding the image to just before Selkirk logged in, and zooming in on the keyboard, "let's see what you typed."
"Okay, I think that was a 'd' then a '6.'"
"No, I think it was a caret, not a '6.'"
"It was a '6.' The shift-key was to make the 'h' capital."
"That was a 'g,' not an 'h,' and it was lowercase."
1:14pm
"Okay, it's either 'dh2Pf8,' or 'dh2Of8,' agreed?"
"As far as I can tell."
"That's fine then. I can just try both."
"Yeah, but how are you going to get into his office? The lock requires an electronic keycard, and you'd have to avoid being seen going in."
In answer, Veronica pointed to the top of the screen which was still displaying the image coming from Selkirk's cell-camera. The ceiling consisted of the white particle-board square tiles typical of office buildings. In place of two of the square tiles were fluorescent light fixtures, and in place of one was a beige air-conditioning vent.
"You have got to be kidding."
"Not at all. Listen and learn." Veronica dialed a number on her cell phone. "Yes, hi. I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor. My name's Katie Butler, I'm a student at UC Berkeley, and I'm doing interdisciplinary studies in architecture and sociology, and, long story short, I'm working on a paper on the semiotics of post-industrial labor spatialities, and….Yes, that's right. The semiotics of post-industrial labor spatialities. Anyway, I was wondering if you could tell me who built your office building. Sure, I'll hold."
"The semiotics of post-industrial labor spatialities?"
Veronica just gave a shrug. "Yes, hi. The Northern California Construction Company? You wouldn't happen to have their phone number, would you? Thanks, I appreciate it a lot. Say, do you think there's any chance I might be able to stop by your office sometime? Oh, just to have a look around; I'm doing research for my paper, and I just want to get an idea of how you're using the space. Yes, but that's precisely what I want to look at: it's the problematique of how 'normality' is being continually redefined. Oh, the sooner the better, but late tomorrow morning would be best for me. No, I wouldn't need a tour guide or anything. That's perfectly fine; it's the common areas that I most want to see anyway. 11:30 tomorrow? Katie Butler. That's right. Perfect. You're a real life saver. Thanks, you too."
"Now what?"
"Now we get the blueprints to the building."
"Is the Northern California Construction Company just going to give them to us?"
"I don't see why not." Veronica dialed another number into her phone.
"Hi, is this the Northern California Construction Company? Do you do prefab office construction? Great, just what I was looking for. You wouldn't happen to have a catalogue or anything like that, would you? You do? Does it contain all the complete design specs? Perfect. Do you think I could get a copy? As a pdf file? Great. Thanks very much."
"Wow. That was easier than I expected."
"Impressed, huh?"
"Amazed."
At how easily you lie.
"Wait, Veronica, what are you going to do if they ask to see some I.D. for this Katie Butler?"
"I'll show them my Berkeley I.D. card."
"It's a flawless forgery, I imagine."
"It'll do."
Of course it will.
"So what are our plans for the rest of the day?"
"Well, we should probably head back to the city now. I'd like to stop by a hardware or office supply store and pick up some poster-board and a tape measure, make sure I'll be able to fit through the ventilation shafts. After that, we could do some sightseeing."
"That sounds nice. I hear they've held over the Edgar Arceneaux exhibition at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art through the end of December. Do you think you'd like to go?"
"Why not? I'd like to develop a taste for modern art."
"Well, if you see something you like, maybe you could steal it."
Veronica laughed and punched Duncan lightly on the shoulder.
3:47pm
The two of them stared up at Robert Bechtle's 'Alameda Gran Torino.'
"What do you suppose inspired him to paint a station wagon?" Veronica asked.
"I don't know. It's beautiful, though, isn't it? I mean, it's a completely ordinary object in a completely ordinary setting, I mean, you could walk by that exact car in that exact driveway in real life and you'd never notice it, right? But something about it—"
"Made him want to do a portrait of it. Because there's something special about it," Veronica finished.
"Exactly." The two of the looked at in silence for another few moments before moving on to the next painting.
"Now, this one I don't get at all," protested Veronica as she looked at de Koonig's 'Untitled XXII.'
Duncan smiled. "Do you remember when we went to the MoCA in L.A.?"
"Of course. That was our fourth date."
"You were practically angry at some of the paintings, do you remember?" Duncan smiled as Veronica blushed just a little. "You kept asking 'but what is this supposed to mean?'"
"Okay, so maybe abstract art is not exactly my forte, okay? I admit it. Like I said, I'm trying to develop a taste for it. Anyway, I recall we still had a good time that day."
Our first kiss.
"Maybe you did. I was just terrified you were going to smack me or gag or I was going to do it all wrong."
"You did okay. That's how I like to remember it, anyway." They both laughed at that. "Seriously, though, what is this supposed to be? I mean, it kind of looks like a horse. A blue horse."
"Why does it have to be anything?"
"What is it, then? Just a glorified doodle?"
"Maybe."
You always did have to have The Answer. Maybe you're not so completely different after all.
6:51pm
The two of them sat perusing the menu in Ana Mandara, a Vietnamese restaurant at Fisherman's Wharf just off Polk Street.
"I could not possibly decide. Everything sounds delicious."
"I think I'll have the seared lobster with black risotto."
"That does sound good. I think I'll have the roasted duck breast. I've never had poached banana blossoms before; in fact, I didn't know you could eat a banana blossom, but I guess there's a first time for everything."
"Maybe we should toast to new beginnings."
"As opposed to old beginnings? Anyway, if we're going to be toasting anything, we'll need some wine," said Veronica as she picked up the wine list.
"Uh, Veronica," Duncan whispered, "I didn't bring any fake I.D. with me on this trip."
"Here," replied Veronica as she passed him a small card. "I'm sure it's much better than whatever you had anyway."
Before he pocketed it, Duncan looked at the card she had handed him. It was a California driver's license for Duncan Kane, but claimed he had been born in 1983. Otherwise, it was perfect.
"I can see why Logan likes you."
"Logan doesn't drink anymore. You know that."
"I know, but that's not what I meant."
"Well then," answered Veronica with just a bit of a flourish, "don't be so mysterious. Whatever did you mean?"
"Come on, you know he's always had a thing for, you know, bad girls."
Veronica's smile instantly became a scowl. "I can't believe you Duncan. You, of all people. You actually believe what everyone says about me?" Her voice was quiet and steady, but her fury was no less audible for all that.
"No, no," answered Duncan frantically, "that's not what I meant at all. Of course I know all that stuff isn't true. I could never believe that about you. I didn't mean it like that."
Veronica relaxed just a little. "What did you mean?"
"I just meant that you used to always be the one who never wanted to break any of the rules. It drove Lilly crazy." At that, they both smiled, and the tension drained out of Veronica's face. "And now, well, just look at you."
"I've changed a lot since we used to go out."
"I know, believe me."
"Is that why you wanted to come with me, Duncan? To see me in action? To see if somewhere underneath it all I was still the old Veronica? Your Veronica?"
Yes.
"No. I mean, yes, I did want to see you 'in action,' as you put it, but it's not that I was trying to get us back together or something like that."
"What was it then?"
"Ahh, I don't know. It's just that, well, we're all different now, but you…." Duncan trailed off.
"Did He who made the lamb make me? Is that what you're asking?"
"I guess so, yes."
"I don't know Duncan."
"I think so."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, sure, there are times when I look at you when you're, you know, breaking and entering or, I don't know, forging documents, and I wonder, 'who is that girl?' But sometimes…."
"I still seem like the innocent little naïf?"
"No. Sometimes, I think back, and I realize, you were always a tiger, you just used to be a cub."
"Red satin."
"Huh?"
"Before our first Homecoming, when I showed Lilly my dress, she insisted I should have been wearing strapless red satin."
"I noticed that is what you wore last year."
"Got your attention, huh?"
"Uh, yeah." They both smiled. "But as I remember it, that pink number you wore in ninth grade wasn't all that innocent."
"Oh no?"
"I seem to recall it was missing the lower back."
"Well, I'm glad someone noticed that."
"Oh, I wasn't the only one who noticed." The two of them laughed easily at that. "Okay, I think we need to order now." He waved their waitress over.
To be continued….