Saitoh encrypted and sent Takagi an email with her test results, one that a cracker would be hard pressed to open.
“There isn’t an alarm or communications company in the city that doesn’t have syndicate ties. DOJ Employee Intel gets sold within days of a hiring or transfer and sold to the highest bidder, despite HR’s “best efforts” to prevent the practice,” He sneered, his opinion as to HR’s actual interest in controlling critical data loss apparent, and scrolled down, reading over the ballistic analysis with a practiced eye. “It goes without saying that the data set for the sister of Takagi Morinosuke, and a prosecutor with one of the highest conviction rates in the country was eagerly anticipated.”
His expression became hard and predatory, the sort of look that in another age, would have precipitated a beheading or disemboweling. “This morning we were able to track down the clerk who compromised your information, along with the records of thirty-six other employees. We’ve been tracking her for a month, trying to get enough evidence to make an arrest. Unfortunately, she’s the niece of a finance minister and was only removed from her position.” Saitoh shook his head, his frustration palpable. He’d pushed hard to have her arrested, but powerful family connections had given the duplicitous little shit the near equivalent of diplomatic immunity.
“Hopefully we’ll have better luck apprehending the morons she sold the information to,” he hated losing quarry, especially due to something as moronic as politics. “We lost a judge this week, and an officer and his partner the week before. Something has to give…and by damn it’s not going to be us.”
Saitoh exhaled wearily, then turned away from the terminal and walked over to where Takagi was standing. “In the meantime,” he began, turning the conversation to something more pleasant, namely how well she’d be able to shoot and kill an aggressor, “you’re pulling a little to the left, which is to be expected considering the new caliber of weapon. Your stance and technique are damn near perfect. Your accuracy rates are good, for a prosecuting attorney who works in Yokohama, but are not quiet lethal enough for New Meiji. This will be corrected. I’ll help you.”
Saitoh reached out and brushed back an errant lock of hair that had gotten caught on her armor. “Before long you’ll be able to hand a tactical officer his ass on the firing range,” he promised, a pleased smirk starting to form at the thought of the slender attorney outshooting some of the media hungry windbags that he worked with. He let his hand linger in her hair for a moment, lightly rubbing an inky strand between his thumb and forefinger. Her hair was soft. Shiny. He wondered if the tresses still smelled the same as in his memories, a beguiling mixture of the scent of her body, flower blossoms and black Aizu pine needles.
He was half tempted to lean over and verify his suspicious, but that would likely lead to other inquires, namely whether her lips were soft, her tongue warm and her taste…
The lights flickered, flared and then went dark. Saitoh frowned and immediately took a step closer to the woman. Emergency lights flickered on, bathing both he and Takagi in blood red light. This was strange. There were generators in the building that should have guaranteed a steady supply of power. Just as suddenly, the emergency lights failed all together. Plunged into darkness, he put an arm around Takagi and brought her up against him, then reached into a pocket on his trousers and pulled out a small halogen hand light, turning it on with a soft click.
Saitoh kept waiting to hear alarms going off, but nothing happened and they remained in the dark for a minute, perhaps two. Finally, there was a single claxon that sounded somewhere up a level and a couple of seconds later, regular lights kicked back on as if nothing had gone awry. The simulator computer automatically rebooted.
Saitoh looked up at the lights, his expression almost as dark as it had just been. “That was interesting,” he dryly commented, clearly curious as to what had caused the strange power fluctuations. Takagi shifted against him.
(Speaking of interesting power fluctuations….)
His arm was still around her and as the power had failed, he’d pulled her into what could well be considered an embrace. She’d moved as well, placing one of her hands on his bare shoulder, her fingers covering the partially faded military tattoo that he’d foolishly woken up with after a night of drinking with his company. He was grateful that the company mascot had been a ravening wolf (he’d always been rather partial to the beasts for some reason) and that he’d not come crawling back to base with a tattoo of Tinkerbell on his ass.
Saitoh looked down at the woman. He could feel that her bandaged hands were chilled, and detected soft shudders moving through her body. He frowned a little, unsure what to make of it. “You’re trembling,” he pointed out, as he clicked the hand lamp off and put it away, the bluntness of his words at odds with the tender way he covered her bandaged hand with his much warmer one. “It is because you’re cold, or because I’m holding you?” His hand on around her waist, however stayed put as he waited for her answer.
no subject
“There isn’t an alarm or communications company in the city that doesn’t have syndicate ties. DOJ Employee Intel gets sold within days of a hiring or transfer and sold to the highest bidder, despite HR’s “best efforts” to prevent the practice,” He sneered, his opinion as to HR’s actual interest in controlling critical data loss apparent, and scrolled down, reading over the ballistic analysis with a practiced eye. “It goes without saying that the data set for the sister of Takagi Morinosuke, and a prosecutor with one of the highest conviction rates in the country was eagerly anticipated.”
His expression became hard and predatory, the sort of look that in another age, would have precipitated a beheading or disemboweling. “This morning we were able to track down the clerk who compromised your information, along with the records of thirty-six other employees. We’ve been tracking her for a month, trying to get enough evidence to make an arrest. Unfortunately, she’s the niece of a finance minister and was only removed from her position.” Saitoh shook his head, his frustration palpable. He’d pushed hard to have her arrested, but powerful family connections had given the duplicitous little shit the near equivalent of diplomatic immunity.
“Hopefully we’ll have better luck apprehending the morons she sold the information to,” he hated losing quarry, especially due to something as moronic as politics. “We lost a judge this week, and an officer and his partner the week before. Something has to give…and by damn it’s not going to be us.”
Saitoh exhaled wearily, then turned away from the terminal and walked over to where Takagi was standing. “In the meantime,” he began, turning the conversation to something more pleasant, namely how well she’d be able to shoot and kill an aggressor, “you’re pulling a little to the left, which is to be expected considering the new caliber of weapon. Your stance and technique are damn near perfect. Your accuracy rates are good, for a prosecuting attorney who works in Yokohama, but are not quiet lethal enough for New Meiji. This will be corrected. I’ll help you.”
Saitoh reached out and brushed back an errant lock of hair that had gotten
caught on her armor. “Before long you’ll be able to hand a tactical officer his ass on the firing range,” he promised, a pleased smirk starting to form at the thought of the slender attorney outshooting some of the media hungry windbags that he worked with. He let his hand linger in her hair for a moment, lightly rubbing an inky strand between his thumb and forefinger. Her hair was soft. Shiny. He wondered if the tresses still smelled the same as in his memories, a beguiling mixture of the scent of her body, flower blossoms and black Aizu pine needles.
He was half tempted to lean over and verify his suspicious, but that would likely lead to other inquires, namely whether her lips were soft, her tongue warm and her taste…
The lights flickered, flared and then went dark. Saitoh frowned and immediately took a step closer to the woman. Emergency lights flickered on, bathing both he and Takagi in blood red light. This was strange. There were generators in the building that should have guaranteed a steady supply of power. Just as suddenly, the emergency lights failed all together. Plunged into darkness, he put an arm around Takagi and brought her up against him, then reached into a pocket on his trousers and pulled out a small halogen hand light, turning it on with a soft click.
Saitoh kept waiting to hear alarms going off, but nothing happened and they remained in the dark for a minute, perhaps two. Finally, there was a single claxon that sounded somewhere up a level and a couple of seconds later, regular lights kicked back on as if nothing had gone awry. The simulator computer automatically rebooted.
Saitoh looked up at the lights, his expression almost as dark as it had just been. “That was interesting,” he dryly commented, clearly curious as to what had caused the strange power fluctuations. Takagi shifted against him.
(Speaking of interesting power fluctuations….)
His arm was still around her and as the power had failed, he’d pulled her into what could well be considered an embrace. She’d moved as well, placing one of her hands on his bare shoulder, her fingers covering the partially faded military tattoo that he’d foolishly woken up with after a night of drinking with his company. He was grateful that the company mascot had been a ravening wolf (he’d always been rather partial to the beasts for some reason) and that he’d not come crawling back to base with a tattoo of Tinkerbell on his ass.
Saitoh looked down at the woman. He could feel that her bandaged hands were chilled, and detected soft shudders moving through her body. He frowned a little, unsure what to make of it. “You’re trembling,” he pointed out, as he clicked the hand lamp off and put it away, the bluntness of his words at odds with the tender way he covered her bandaged hand with his much warmer one. “It is because you’re cold, or because I’m holding you?” His hand on around her waist, however stayed put as he waited for her answer.