As he stepped inside, dread morphed into fury. A quick count identified at least nine laptops missing from the tables. Before heading to the top floor, he snapped pictures of the destruction.
With anger streaming through him, he climbed the stairs to the top floor, where he and his executive team worked, along with in-house attorneys, accountants, and other management. No one’s office had been compromised, including his own. He felt no relief. Someone had deactivated his security system, killed the power, including the back-up system, and stolen laptops from a pod that supported a top-secret client.
After Stryker’s arrest eighteen months ago, the FBI had terminated their contract with TCS. Even after the charges were dropped, it had taken him months to earn back their trust. This was going to wreak havoc with their already damaged relationship. The fury that hounded him day after day exploded in a torrent of rage. He pounded his fist into the wall, sending searing pain shooting up his arm.Fuck. Fuuuuuck.
Shaking his hand out, he stared at the hole in the drywall before heading back downstairs. His phone rang. It was Brooks. “We’ve been breached,” Stryker said. “Where are you?”
“Atrium. You?”
“On my way down.” Stryker strode into the lobby to find several employees standing by the reception bank. Brooks was on his phone.
“What’s going on?” asked a staffer.
“We’ve been burglarized,” Stryker replied.
Everyone started hurtling questions at him. He painted on a smile, trying to look relaxed. “Why don’t you guys take off? We’ll update everyone when we know more.”
“Can we grab our laptops?” asked one of his hackers.
“No,” Stryker replied. “Operational security. No one goes upstairs.” His employees looked as concerned as he felt.
A few meandered toward the exit, but most didn’t budge.
Brooks hurried over. “The police are on their way.”
Stryker did not want the police involved. The media would find out and hound the hell out of him and his employees. He wanted to deal with this his way…off the radar. Find the motherfuckers and pump some bullets into them.
The sex high from a few hours ago had been replaced with something much more familiar.
Rage.
He showed Brooks the photos. “Nothing stolen but FBI laptops.”
“That’s got retaliation written all over it. Who’d you piss off now, Stryker?”
“Who haven’t I pissed off?”
Stryker pulled out his laptop, logged in, and activated the search. Years ago, he’d installed a software package to track stolen or misplaced laptops, but the equipment had to be on for the geolocator to work. Even though computers should stay on site, an employee who ghosted on him might take their company laptop. The tracking software helped him retrieve his stolen assets.
He got several hits for laptops located upstairs. No hits elsewhere, which meant the stolen laptops were off.
“No lucky break?” Brooks asked, peering at Stryker’s screen.
“No. Maybe the assholes will turn them on.”
An hour later, the building was swarming with police, TCS employees, and repair techs. He escorted two officers upstairs to show them the FBI pod.
“The crime techs are on their way,” said one of the officers. “They’ll dust for prints, so we’ve got to block off this area.”
“Whatever it takes,” Stryker replied.
Time to manage damage control.
After ushering them into the atrium, Stryker got an earful from the repair guys. The fiber optics lines had been cut going into the building, thereby preventing any communications. The back-up power lines from the generator to the building had also been cut. And the main power lines had been severed, killing the electricity.
Whoever had done this had fucked up his company…big time.
“This is a big job and we’re gonna need a crew,” said a technician.
