Her home is spectacular. According to my siblings, she bought a derelict manor house and meticulously restored it over the years. The front is the original brick, with large sash windows and a central doorway at the top of wide stone steps. According to Caleb, Jaxson Lockwood, our friend and top-class architect, has created a masterpiece at the back of the house.
I’ve not been here, but I’ve seen the pictures. Caleb raves about its design, the developer in him going into overdrive. The back of the house overlooks the rest of the property, which comprises woodland and grassland. I remember Kat telling our mother, Pen saw the view and immediately put in an offer. Fire had destroyed the main property, leaving a burnt-out shell, so she and her mum moved into one of the smaller cottages on the grounds until the renovations were complete.
I manoeuvre my Range Rover Autobiography SV next to a sleek Porsche.
The garage door closes quietly behind me.
Pen emerges from a side door as I climb out.
“Canary yellow Porsche? You surprise me?”
Pen grins. “Why? Jealous?”
She clearly remembers the time I went to test drive a two-seater sports car and how my six-foot-six frame got stuck behind the wheel. The salesperson nearly had a coronary, thinking they might have to dismantle the steering column.
“I’ll stick to cars I can actually get in and out of,” I say.
“It goes well with black,” she says, smiling, her eyes moving lovingly to her car before returning to mine. “Welcome to my home. If you want to follow me.”
She turns on her heels and walks back through the same door before I can say anything.
I catch up with her in an extensive hallway. A wooden staircase leads up to a mezzanine landing, with rooms leading off. I can make out additional corridors. Downstairs, the doors are all open, offering glimpses into bright rooms. As someone who appreciates light, especially natural light, this is stunning.
But critiquing Pen’s home or choice of car is not why I’m here.
“Pen. I haven’t got time to strategise. The release goes live in five days.”
I almost called her and cancelled, but after the watch vibrated and her program picked up on the malware, I decided against it.
Who the hell wants to bug my office?
More importantly, who got access to do it? My offices are supposed to be watertight. Vigorous checks are performed on all my staff. We have some of the world’s largest industries as clients, and they have to know they can trust us.
Pen leads me into the house. When I walk through the doorway, a buzzer goes off.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Pen says, holding up a hand.
She places a finger to her lips. She pulls out her scanner again and runs it over my body, like security at the airport.
It beeps when it passes over my pocket, and I pull out my phone.
Pen takes it off me.
“It’s a tracker,” I tell her. “All Frazers have them. My father made us have them installed in case of kidnapping.”
Pen’s shoulders sag.
“Of course. I’m just a little paranoid, especially after today. I take it you found bugs? I get the impression you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.”
“I’m confused about why someone would bug my office.”
And how they got in past security.
The thought has made me sick to my stomach.
“That’s the simple part. They want to know what you know. Want to stay one step ahead of you. It could be a competitor and has nothing to do with the code changes you’ve uncovered. They may have been planted years ago. But we can’t take that risk.”
She takes my phone and places it in a metal box.
