Eric wondered how he had ever gotten anything done before without an executive assistant, more specifically, without Marisa. Since their initial meeting during the scrimmage at the front door, she had been with him non-stop each day as he scrambled to keep things under control. She'd immediately begun keeping the 'time-wasters' away from him, the people who wanted to talk to the boss but had nothing urgent. She asked questions, organized his tasks, and kept him on track throughout the day.

When he questioned her about her management skills, she admitted that she'd worked as a secretary and then an executive assistant while training to become a full-time corporate bodyguard. Her small build worked against her, and she'd pivoted to security work.

"Being a bodyguard for a corporate bigwig includes playing the heavy at times, scowling at people and intimidating them. I'm not good at it, and being half the size of the guys doesn't help. I also wasn't keen on the implants and upgrades that corporations want. Some of the guys have thirty pounds of metal and plastic inside of them, and we aren't even talking about the people with completely cybernetic limbs. All of that comes from your salary, and the average cost is Six Million dollars per Man."

"And that led you to the glamorous job of following me around and making sure people sleeping in pods are well cared for."

"Hey, I got a raise on the first day and got to practice my gutter Russian. I'm not going to complain." She looked at her clipboard and at a group of three people heading their way. "You have the people representing the electrical workers' union who want to renegotiate their vacation pay heading towards us. Deal with them or do that inspection of Belinda Sabbatino's living quarters now?"

Eric saw them coming as well and groaned. Negotiating contracts was a job for John and the lawyers, but in their absence, this group had decided to put pressure on him. Even being polite and saying 'no' would cost him an hour. "Let's go do that inspection. I want things ready for her when she's done 'visiting friends.' And she has an old-fashioned vending machine in her game room with real chocolate Snickers bars. Lunch is on me today." They beat a hasty retreat and headed for a different part of the complex.

----------------------------------------

"Something wrong, Roger?" Dave was still recovering from his beating a few days ago. Nothing had been seriously hurt, but he was earning extra dollars as long as he was injured and still on the job. Eric had authorized the bonus, and Dave was happily sitting in a chair, right arm in a sling, and training Roger to do his job. Roger was turning out to be a gem in the rough. Dave had pegged him as big and simple, but underneath the wide shoulders and easy smile was a good brain, and he was a whiz at paperwork. Dave had gladly turned over the front desk to him. Roger knocked out the daily paperwork early, then watched a sports event or played a game with his boss. Dave liked the system.

But today, Roger had been working diligently on employee background checks and became increasingly upset with how many discrepancies he found. Ideally, background checks were further investigated before a new person started work, but Manpower was shorthanded, and John hadn't considered it a problem to check things retroactively. Roger had volunteered to do the work the day before and was cruising along with the occasional curse word as addresses had to be updated, new employees contacted for updated information, and, in two cases, deciding on whether to keep two new security guards with small crimes on their records from over ten years ago. It was fairly standard paperwork, and Roger had worked through it until the end, chatting with Dave and the other guards at the front desk. Then he'd let loose a string of profanity, started typing furiously, and made two phone calls.

"Maybe Dave, but I want to be 100% on this and not cause some drama I regret later." He worked furiously for another half hour, then sat back and stared at the screen. "Damn, and I really liked her."

Dave looked over his shoulder at the files. "Marisa? What's wrong with Marisa?"

Roger started highlighting areas. "What's right about Marisa? I can't check her story about growing up in the military because any inquiry is flagged and returned 'restricted' and a link to a thousand forms. So, I can't look up her parents and verify anything. She has three schools down for her primary education, but they don't give out student information. I tried to look at the yearbooks and find someone with her name but a different face. I contacted the school she claims she went to for her degree in Security Services, and they confirmed she had paid and gotten the top grades in the class, but they have no record of her attending or graduating. That one took me calling in a couple of favors with a very nice girl that I now owe a very expensive dinner."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Dave wasn't happy. "So, what do you have?"

Roger shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing at all, except a four-hundred dollar bill and a reservation for at Barclay Prime. She's like a ghost, except she works here and, specifically, works side by side daily with Mr. Kresthammer."

"Oh shit. I do not like how this puzzle falls into place." Dave was remembering the fight the other day. "You think she's a spy?"

Roger took a deep breath and went all in. "No. I think she's out to get Eric. The evil Russian uncle is all pissed off and in jail. Eric himself has said he's worried about him; Mr. Sabbatino has sent 17 memos about being careful and protecting Mr. Kresthammer. And we have a suspicious woman whose background falls apart when you look at it. And too good at hand-to-hand combat. I watched the videos. She used that situation to isolate Eric, get a promotion, and latch onto him pretty well. The 'I speak Russian' bit hooked him good. She was sent in to either find Belinda Sabbatino or kill Mr. Kresthammer. Sorry, but that's how it rattles around in my head."

"Don't apologize; you just put the pieces together faster than I did. Now we go to the big question: What next?"

The other four guards had gathered around now, silently listening to a conversation way above their pay grade. Roger shrugged, "Just my thoughts, but if she wants to take out Eric and we sound the alarm, she'll do it. She may only be waiting until she either finds out where Belinda is or determines she won't be able to get that info. Then she puts a knife in the boss's back and skips town. So no alarm, but we need to separate them. And I don't like where they are at."

Dave didn't either. "Shit, in Belinda's area with the medical offices. That's off where no one else is working, with two more security doors and insulated walls."

Roger stood up. "How about this? She doesn't know we're on to her. I'll take some paperwork from Mr. Sabbatino to Mr. Kresthammer for his signature. You call Eric and ask him to send Marisa up to cover for James, who has to leave. His kid is sick, and he has to go to the hospital with her; his wife is calling non-stop. Then, when Marisa gets here, seal the security door and grill her on her background. Chances are you can just fire her, and she doesn't try anything. But keep spread out and tasers ready."

"As good a plan as any and better than what I can come up with. Get some shit for Eric to sign; it's on my desk, it doesn't matter what it is. Then I'll call Eric. James? Could you hide in my bathroom until I need you? And someone get on the phone to the Police and tell PPD we need another squad. Tell them we have an armed intruder on the premises."

Roger ran to Dave's office and quickly found some reports that would do, put them on a clipboard, and then put another file on top. He forced himself to walk slowly toward where Eric and Marisa were. The worrying part was the cameras inside were turned off, and he only knew they were in there from following them up to the point they entered. What Marisa might have done after that bothered him. He might be too late. He kept his radio on, but his voice muted. He heard Dave get ahold of Eric. Roger relaxed some on hearing his voice. There was some back and forth, and then he heard Marisa's voice say, "Got it. Just don't eat all the Snickers."

He passed her in the hallway a minute later. She slowed to talk, "What's up? Man down for a sick kid?" She eyed the paperwork.

Roger looked sheepish and looked at his shoes. "That, and I sort of screwed up. I was working as hard as I could to get all the paperwork done, and I think I pissed Dave off. Made him feel bad since he can't write with a sprained right arm. And the others are calling me a kiss-ass behind my back. I think he just wanted me gone for a bit. On the bright side, they think you're a good trade for two other guards, and probably right."

She looked at him and then smiled. "Don't let it get you down. You really are doing a great job; just hang in there, big guy." She playfully punched him on the upper arm hard enough to hurt and walked away.

Roger entered the area normally reserved for Belinda Sabbatino and found Eric sitting at a small table, a pile of Snickers wrappers in front of him, and John Wick 19 playing on the large screen. He set the paperwork on the table. "Great movie."

"Yeah, one of my favorites. It's officially movie and Snickers day. I needed a break. Have you seen this one?"

Roger smiled. "Great movie, and fitting. Especially the part where they shoot Wick in the gut for betraying the mob boss." Eric barely had time to notice the gun in Roger's hand before the four shots hit him in the stomach and chest.

Roger continued to smile at him, "Victor says hi."