Trust Me

suspects.
    “Shit.”
    He took another, closer look around the study.
    He was just about to leave when he spotted the tip of a toothpick sticking out from under the desk.
    He went down on one knee and discovered a half dozen more toothpicks scattered about on the carpet. The intruder had obviously dropped them when he had fled the scene in panic.
    A deep cold filled Stark’s gut as he rose to his feet. He looked at the handful of toothpicks he held.
    The list of suspects had suddenly been shortened.

    Two hours later Desdemona watched uneasily as Stark tossed a handful of toothpicks down onto his desk. The little sticks bounced and skittered on the glass surface.
    “It had to be one of your people, Desdemona. No one else here tonight would have had a reason to carry a bunch of toothpicks around in his or her pocket.”
    Desdemona stared at the toothpicks. “I don’t understand.” She was baffled, not only by the toothpicks but by the change that had come over Stark.
    The last of his guests had departed a few minutes earlier. As soon as the car’s taillights had disappeared down the drive, he had asked her to follow him upstairs. The icy cold emanating from him sent a frisson of alarm along all her nerve endings.
    She realized that there had been only one other occasion when she had glimpsed him in this dark and dangerous mood. That had been the night Tony had greeted them at the door of her apartment dressed in the Exotica Erotica regalia.
    Something was terribly wrong. Desdemona wiped her damp palms on her apron. Her stomach clenched.
    “What don’t you understand?” Stark watched her with a grim patience that was frightening in its intensity.
    “Let me get this straight.” She took a breath. “You think someone tried to steal your computer tonight?”
    “Not the computer. That’s not worth more than a couple thousand at most on the secondary market, and there would have been no way to get it out of the house undetected.”
    “Then what –?”
    “The thief was after the hard disk inside. That’s where the valuable stuff is stored. Any idiot knows that.”
    Desdemona swallowed. “You mean he was after your new project? The one you call ARCANE?”
    “Yes, Desdemona. That’s exactly what I mean. Whoever it was knew that there was no other way to get it except by stealing the entire hard disk. I keep this computer completely isolated. No modem is ever used with it. It’s not linked to any network system. That means that no one can get into it through another computer.”
    “But why would anyone want to steal your special project? You told me it was locked in code.”
    “Given enough time, a very good hacker can break any code. Even one of mine.”
    She frowned. “But what would he do with ARCANE once he’d figured out how to break the code?”
    “Sell it.”
    “To whom?”
    “Any one of a number of foreign corporations or governments. It’s called industrial espionage, Desdemona. Don’t pretend you haven’t heard of it.”
    “Well, of course I’ve heard of it, but it isn’t something I worry about on a day-today basis,” she retorted. “If someone really wants to steal my tapenade recipe, he’s welcome to it.”
    “You may not worry about this kind of espionage, but I do.”
    She winced. “Yes, I suppose you do. You’ve made a career out of it, haven’t you?”
    “The theft of high-tech information is the new ball game. It’s replaced a lot of the old-fashioned political espionage. Several of the old players are involved.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “A lot of the pros who once stole and resold national security secrets have undergone career adjustments,” Stark said evenly. “They’re working in two new fields, arms dealing and the international market for technological secrets. Do you know what that means?”
    “Uh, not exactly.”
    “It means,” Stark said, “that the game of industrial espionage is a lot more dangerous than it once was because the players are not amateurs.”
    “Stark, if your aim is to scare me, you’ve succeeded. Please tell me what this is all about.”
    “Someone on your staff is playing the game.”
    “I don’t believe it.”
    “You’d better believe it. The thief used you as a cover to get at my computer.”
    “That’s crazy,” Desdemona whispered. “All you’ve got are a few scratches on the computer case and a handful of toothpicks. Even if you’re right about someone trying to steal your hard disk, why suspect a member of my