Author's note: This story is set in the fictional country of Upper Danubia. Those unfamiliar with Danubia might want to check out EC's excellent novels first since those are the original works my story is based on. My characters are original but nearly everything else was borrowed from EC's fiction (caligula97236).
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Chapter 1: Information Bandits
Arthur Liggett had hot sweaty feet; blame the muggy Louisiana air that showed up a month early. He flopped back in his supervisor's expensive new office chair. It was so soft and comfortable; no wonder Gary didn't let anyone else sit in it. Arthur yanked off his work boots, threw his wet socks on top of Gary's desk and then he stretched out, letting the cold dry air from the floor vent blow between his toes. There was simply nothing better than air conditioning.
Arthur fidgeted constantly as he waited for the diagnostic to finish. There was nothing left to do but stare at a computer screen. The software's progress bar seemed stuck at 75%.
He went to the bathroom sink to wash the sweat off his face. His reflection made him smirk; his hardhat had left weird globe-like indentions on his head. Arthur wet his face and leaned toward the mirror. His features were sharp; with a narrow nose, dark blue eyes, and a thin straight mouth. To some people, his resting facial expression seemed aloof or playful. Some suspicious people even claimed that Arthur Liggett looked like he was always up to something.
His co-workers had left work at five-thirty; just Arthur and the crickets stayed late. For some reason there were always black field crickets loose in the lab; chirping in shaded spaces behind desks, printers, and filing cabinets.
The computer beeped. Arthur made sure the install was complete and the network was connected; then he clicked shutdown. The office phone rang.
"Lusty Lady's Escort Service," Arthur's face lit up mischievously: "This is Gary, may I help you?"
There was silence for a couple seconds, and then a man sighed. "Really, Arthur... an escort service?" The man sighed again in a tired way. "I'm at my office, come and see me." He hung up the phone before Arthur could respond.
Arthur grabbed his boots and stepped out the back door at the end of the hall. A skinny reddish brown beagle stood ten paces away. The dog looked at him warily then sat to scratch at its neck. Arthur went back inside and turned left into the employee break room.
He searched the refrigerator. On the top rack there was a white Styrofoam container. It had 'Gary' written on the top and underlined twice in red marker. Arthur peeked inside and found something that resembled meatloaf. He put that one on the table and then he found another container that said: 'Kosher' on top. Uncertain about the dog's religious beliefs, Arthur grabbed it too and headed outside.
He whistled and the stray came close, licking its lips and wetting its nose. Arthur opened the trays on the sidewalk and watched the dog eat his co-worker's food. He smiled; it felt good to be so generous and compassionate. After the dog washed the Styrofoam clean Arthur put the trays back in the refrigerator and headed toward the white Chevy in the gravel parking lot.
He threw his hardhat in the floorboard of the company pickup truck and drove across the dirt parking lot, between a row of trailers and metal sheds. He slowed at the intersection. Flatbed trucks with heavy loads of black drill tubes and service trucks hauling industrial sized generators and gas welding equipment set lined up to either side, mostly blocking the view.
Half a mile down a two lane paved road, he pulled off at the entrance to another fenced complex. Arthur stopped at the gatehouse and waved his ID card. The scrappy new security guard insisted on examining the laminated photo ID up close, she looked at the card; then at him.
"Thank you Mr. Liggett." She said. "Sorry to stop you but we're having to step up security; there've been some theft issues reported recently."
"Is that right?" Arthur took back his ID.
"Mmm hmm... Yes we have," she complained, "and then on top of that we've had animal control up here twice this week... I think somebody's been feeding stray animals."
Arthur shook his head. "Some people are completely irresponsible. I'll keep my eyes open ma'am and if I see anything suspicious I'll be sure to let you know."
"Thanks hun," she said. "How late you work anyway?"
"Until Mr. Neal says I'm done, I guess. I have some important results to give him, he hasn't left yet has he?"
"No hun, that man works late bout every night," She wagged a finger. "Now don't let'em turn you into workaholic too."
She waved as he drove toward the office. Arthur parked outside the three-story brick building. Mr. Neal's office was on the first floor, the door was open and his lights were on. Arthur walked in. Mr. Neal leaned back in the world's most comfortable office chair with his mouth open, snoring.
Arthur cleared his throat. Mr. Neal grunted then straightened up in his chair, blinking rapidly. "Uh... um... oh it's you. You... you um... got that network and... uh... stuff ready."
"Good to go," Arthur said. "By the way did you see yesterday's results?"
"Ugh..." Mr. Neal groaned. "I don't want to see them."
"But these are very interesting... I circled the best parts." Arthur put the folded sports page down on his boss's desk.
"Arthur," Mr. Neal grumbled as he smoothed down his neatly trimmed mustache and beard. "You've got to be the luckiest son of a bitch I ever seen... the Astros!" He sighed with disgust: "Fucking Marlins." Mr. Neal put on his reading glasses and sighed as Arthur enjoyed his grief, then he opened a desk drawer. "Fifty?"
"Yep."
"Hmm... here's uh... twenty, pay the rest next week, okay?"
"Sure." Arthur noticed how tired his boss looked; his bloodshot eyes had dark circles underneath. Mr. Neal's normally pressed shirt was wrinkled and his office smelled like he'd started smoking again.
"Have a drink?" Mr. Neal reached for a cabinet drawer. He found a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels and slid a shot glass toward Arthur's hand. "I don't have any ice."
"It's a cruel world." Arthur tasted his warm bourbon. Mr. Neal threw his back and poured another.
Mr. Neal glanced down. "You're not wearing shoes."
Arthur shrugged. "My feet got hot."
"Steel-toed boots are required for your job, you know."
