“I really can’t blame you, Jet,” I said. “I might have done the same. I wasn’t exactly sober enough to be consulted, anyway.” I cradled a glass of ice water as Jet and I sat at my coffee table.
“I – I’m really glad to hear that, sir,” Jet said. “It means a lot. It’s not something I feel good about, but from everything I knew -”
“Like I said: no blame,” I interrupted. “There is an awful lot at stake here. And things have changed so much in the last twenty-four hours neither of us have any idea where it’s all going to land.” My fingers tapped compulsively on the fine glass. I stopped when I noticed Jet flinching at the sound.
“So what now, boss?” Jet asked. He kept averting his eyes, looking down at his hands or stealing glances at the terminal he’d been kicked off of.
“Damage control. Delilah has been neutralized at her own request, God knows why. The CSO is still climbing up our asses so we need a good story. Preferably one that leaves us free and clear.” I forced a chuckle. “And if we’re really lucky, maybe we can pin it on that bastard Keith over at Hestiacorp. I still owe him payback.”
“What? You think we can make this look like outside infiltration? Even now?”
“It’s possible. We just need to -”
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.
“Okay, really?” That sound was seriously producing nervous headaches every time I heard it now. Maybe I should get it changed.
“Hellard?” came Satasha’s voice. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah,” I replied. Probably more shortly than intended. I would have to crack down on that for negotiations. “What’s up?”
“It’s not over yet. Delilah needs our help.”