“Damn it.”
He looked down to see Access Denied flash on the screen.
“I found the log-in ID, but not the password,” she said.
“What did you try?”
“He’s got two kids. I tried both names.”
“Try his wife,” Zack suggested.
Emily’s hands flew over the keys. Access Denied flashed.
“Any pets?” he asked.
“No.”
“Maybe it’s case sensitive,” he said. “Try capitalizing the first letter of each name. Then add a number, starting with one and working your way up. You have ten minutes, Emily.”
Keys clicked as she tried again. “No go,” she said.
Zack could feel desperation pressing into him. He’d known before coming in that finding the proof they needed to connect both Underwood and Carpenter to the testing of illegal weapons was a long shot. The notes would help, but it wasn’t enough to convict. There were no names, nothing written on Lockdown, Inc.’s letterhead, nothing to connect Lockdown to Signal Research and Development. He needed definitive evidence. He wanted it so badly he could taste it.
But the longer they stayed, the better their chances of getting caught. If it were only him, he would risk it. But because he couldn’t bear the thought of Emily being hurt, he found himself willing to walk away empty-handed if that’s what it took to keep her safe.
“There’s got to be another way,” he said.
“I need more time,” she said.
“Finding that password is a long shot, Emily.”
She glanced away from the keyboard, her determined gaze colliding with his. “I know him, Zack. I know his administrative assistant. He keeps everything on this computer. If I can get in, we’ll have him cold.”
“It’s not worth your life, damn it.”
She looked back at the keyboard, her fingers playing over the keys at a blinding speed. Zack was about to reach for her to physically haul her from the room when she gasped. The screen blinked and a blue menu appeared.
“I’m in,” she said.
Relief penetrated the veil of fear that had been about to choke him. “You’ve got two minutes.” He glanced uneasily toward the door. “I’ll search the desk and file cabinet.”
Anxiety churned in his gut as he crossed to the file cabinet and went to work on the lock. He could hear the computer keys clicking as she worked. The occasional curse. Then the file cabinet lock snapped and the drawer rolled open. Starting with the first file, he began to read. Most were medical files on inmates. The inmate was identified with a number, not by name. The information looked legit. Nothing about RZ-902.
“Oh, my God.”
The tone of her voice snapped Zack’s head up. Emily was sitting behind the desk, her face ghostly in the semidarkness. “I think I just found what we were looking for,” she whispered.
Zack came up behind her and looked at the screen.
“This is the project-tracking software Lockdown, Inc. uses. My God, Zack, the entries…they’re graphic and horrendous and…”
“And it details dates and names,” he added.
She hit another key and the next day’s log materialized. Problem encountered with subjects resistant to RZ-902. Profuse hemorrhaging. Blindness. Skin lesions. Survival rate 68 percent with injection of antibody serum within the first minute of exposure. Dr. Lionel will begin another trial next week. Lockdown, Inc. will supply volunteers at $5,000 each.
“Shall I print this?” Emily asked.
Zack reached over and switched on the printer. “Print it and then I’ll e-mail a copy of the entire file to a couple of private accounts I have set up.” Leaning close, he used the mouse to open the e-mail software and then typed in several e-mail addresses. “Delete the e-mail in the Sent folder. If we’re lucky, they won’t figure out we were here.”
Emily clicked on the Sent folder and deleted the e-mails he’d sent. She opened another file. Zack saw names and amounts and his heart began to race.
“We’ve got them,” she whispered.
The rush of relief hit him with a force that was almost physical. Zack looked down at her and grinned. “Kind of renews a man’s belief in miracles, doesn’t it?”
Pulling her from the chair and to her feet, he cupped the back of her head and pressed his mouth to hers. Desire tugged at him as he kissed her. He could feel himself getting lost. Getting too close. Too deep. Too damn fast. He wanted to think it was his love affair with danger and adrenaline that had him breathless. But deep inside he knew it was the woman he held in his arms.
The printer spat a dozen pages and beeped. It took every bit of discipline he possessed to pull away. “Remind me not to kiss you when I need to think.”
“Same goes,” she said, looking more than a little shaken.
Zack crossed to the printer, snatched up the sheets, folded them and tucked them next to the other pages in the waistband of his pants. “Let’s blow this joint,” he said.