Chapter 12: The Offer

The restaurant was on the roof of a glass building on Pier Road.

The hostess walked Evan past every empty table to the best one.

A woman was waiting there with her back to the wall.

She stood when she saw him.

She was thirty-two and tall, with dark red hair pulled back from a sharp, clever face.

Her charcoal suit fit her exactly.

"Mr. Green," she said, and held out a hand. "Every Red. Thank you for coming. I wasn't sure you would."

"Neither was I."

"Please. Sit. I took the table facing the door, and I'll swap if you prefer it."

"This is fine."

He sat with his back to the city, and found that she had already ordered tea for him, no sugar.

He took a sip.

It was exactly right.

"You must be wondering how I got your number," Every said.

"I was."

"A friend of mine sits on the board at Ross Group. She was in that room yesterday."

Her mouth tightened.

"She told me what they did. I don't usually lose my temper about a rival's HR, but I've been angry for a day and a half."

"It was a forged log."

"Of course it was."

She said it without any doubt at all.

"I read the page she photographed for me. A child could see it was sewn together. Whoever wrote it knew the servers, but not the logic."

Evan said nothing.

She had said *whoever wrote it knew the servers*, and she had looked straight at him when she said it.

She smiled, and moved on.

"I'm not going to ask you what you did last night," she said.

"I read the report. A patch like that doesn't come from a printer repairman, and I don't care where you learned it.

"I want to hire the man who wrote it."

"I haven't said I wrote it."

"No." Every folded her hands. "And I haven't asked."

A waiter set down two plates of grilled fish.

She picked up her fork and waited for him to start.

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