Forget Me Never

in.
    ‘Reece? Lunchtime.’
    I took a breath. ‘I’ve only got a few files left. I was thinking I’d finish these and then come down, so I can start something new this afternoon. Seems silly not to.’
    ‘Are you sure? You’ve been here all morning. You must need a break.’
    ‘Ten minutes.’ I gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Could you lend me your pass card so I can come down when I’m done? Won’t be able to get into the canteen otherwise.’
    ‘I don’t know.’ Lottie sounded worried. ‘I really ought to wait. We’re not meant to lend our cards to people . . .’
    ‘Lottie? We’re waiting. They’ll be out of chocolate pudding if you hang about much longer,’ someone called from outside. Lottie looked at the door, then at me. I tried to look sincere and trustworthy. I must have done a good job, because after a moment’s hesitation she handed over the card.
    ‘Just this once,’ she said. ‘I can go down with the others. Finish up and come straight down though. You know the way to the canteen, right?’
    Score! I thought as the door shut. It had been a combination of luck and forward thinking that had got me into this position. Lottie had mentioned the day before that there was a pile of records that needed filing. I’d said I’d do it, banking on my ability to convince her to lend me her pass. Actually I’d finished the filing already. It was 12.35 – my big chance.
    Quietly I edged the door open.
    No one was about. I hurried down the corridor to the office next to the labs, hoping that Aiden and his colleagues would have already headed to the canteen.
    Outside the office I paused. If there was someone inside, how on earth could I explain my sudden appearance? Then I heard footsteps. No time to think! I thrust out Lottie’s pass. The light on the security lock went green and I stepped inside.
    The room wasn’t large – three desks, filing cabinets, some cupboards. No one was there. I let out a breath, feeling the tension in my muscles ease. I knew Aiden’s desk was the one by the window. I went over, wondering where to start. There were some personal items on top of the desk – a novelty pen holder, one of those squishy stress-ball things – but nothing worth a second look.
    I rifled through the folders stacked by the computer monitor. One at the bottom was marked CLASSIFIED – but it was just a stream of numbers.
    Disappointed, I flicked from page to page. Maybe these were lab-trial results? An underlined title – one of the few things that made sense – caught my eye: Weight-loss development. What was that about? Unless . . . was that the new drug? I knew there were weight-loss aids on the market already, but something that really worked would make millions. I’d seen some pretty hardcore stats on the news about obesity. Apparently one in ten kids and one in four adults were obese. The Department of Health had called it an ‘epidemic’. It wasn’t just fitness levels that were a concern – being overweight increased the risk of developing all kinds of illnesses.
    I shoved the file aside and tried the drawers of Aiden’s desk. Locked – but there was a small key half concealed by the pen holder. I tried it and heard a satisfying click.
    There was a lot of crap in Aiden’s drawers – chewing gum, biscuits, tea bags, postcards, even breakfast cereal – but there was also a wallet and a personal organizer. I stared at them, almost unable to believe my luck. I opened the wallet first. Lunch was free for employees, so I guessed he didn’t need to carry it around. Still, what an idiot to leave it here!
    I took out Aiden’s cards. Some were plastic, credit cards and gym membership, but there were a number of business cards. My dad had had some that were similar. The names didn’t mean anything to me though. Swearing under my breath, I moved on to the organizer, opening it up at the diary section and flicking through quickly to the following week. It was standard kind of stuff – Monday 7 p.m. cinema with Carl and Tim, pay deposit, a dentist appointment, Wednesday 7.45 a.m. HJP, airport, T3. ‘HJP’ meetings seemed to come up fairly often over the last couple of months. As I was replacing the organizer something slipped from it – a photograph. I picked it up. Then I froze. The door had just bleeped.
    Acting on instinct, I crouched down under Aiden’s desk. I heard a noise as the door opened and the click of heels. They can’t see me, I thought. Let’s hope they’ve