As I reach the hallway leading to my office, the emotional high of helping to save a life starts to fade. I still have a rat problem to deal with. Someone on my team let Dorothy know where we would be and when we would be there. I need to interview everyone who could have had access to that information and see who my polygraph identifies as having a guilty conscience. I’ll hit the newer hires first, then work my way back. With her history with Father’s company, Dorothy could have been planting sleepers for a long time.

“Hey Sheryl, got a minute?” I ask as I enter her office.

She turns from her computer and gives me her usual giant smile.

“Oh hey, Noah! Sure! But first take a look at the slick sheet for the floating islands from your trip. You three did such good work there!”

She points me to the document she’d been working on, some fancied up marketing materials for the platforms we built in the Pacific, touting both the environmental impact and the potential commercial value of future platforms.

“Looking good, Sheryl,” I tell her. “Say, did you happen to hear about our run-in at the first build site?”

She pushes her chair back from her desk and swivels it towards me. “I did! Yes! That was so weird!”

Her usual bubbly personality doesn’t skip a beat. Her vitals are steady, no hint of nervousness beyond the high energy levels that I’ve learned are her baseline normal.

“Yeah, someone named Dorothy James. Had you heard of her before?”

“No, but I’ve read up on her since then. I can put together an info dump on her if you need.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Sincere again, no tension.

“Sure, that would be great.”

“I’ll have it in your inbox tomorrow morning then!” she says, as eager to please as always.

“Thanks, Sheryl.”

Talking to Sheryl is a little bit like chugging maple syrup from the bottle, but she does great work. It definitely wasn’t her selling us out to Dorothy.

I hit Alan’s office next. I’m pretty sure he’s not the rat, since I just brought him on right before the trip, but I need to talk to him anyway.

“Sir!” he says, rising to his feet as he sees me at his doorway. “What can I do for you today?”

”Please, just Noah,” I say. “I’m just checking in. How are the logistics coming along for the Laos leg of the Mekong trip?”

“Very well, sir,” he says, ignoring my request to use my name. “I just signed on the last of the six guides you’ll have there. Between them they speak all the major local languages. There was no way I could get everything covered because there are so many minority languages in the region, but I’ve got every dialect used as a primary language along the river and major tributaries covered. Since you’ll need local funds for food along several rural stretches that still don’t have access to the credit card infrastructure, I’ve got accounts set up for you at several local banks. The guides will be able to pull hard currencies as needed without needing to carry it all from the start of the trip.”

He’s his regular efficient and collected self. Good. The trip planning is all on track.

“Sounds good. Did we talk about Dorothy James yet?”

No emotional reaction from him. Yeah, he’s not the rat.

“The woman running the ship that you met out on the ocean? No, sir. I only know what Louise relayed to me. Was there something you wanted me to do about her? Did you need a meeting with her?”

“No, not yet. For now, just make sure we have contact information for her so we can get in touch later.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll have it by the end of the hour.”

“Thanks,” I say as I turn and walk out of his office.

Two down, a whole bunch to go.