Trust

An uncomfortable feeling bubbled up in Barov's heart. 'All these years… All these years, and he still doesn't trust me. For better or for worse, we've stayed together as a team. For richer or poorer, we've weathered financial trouble during the company's inception. In sickness and in health, we've stuck with it even when we've worked ourselves sick.

'However, this isn't something one just gets over. He doesn't trust me and hasn't for years.'

Barov threw himself into his chair and sat completely motionless. Those who passed him couldn't help but think of that iconic statue, The Thinker.

'I suppose his distrust of outsiders is understandable, considering… In addition to that, he isn't a trained businessman; he's just a tech nerd who's been fumbling—successfully—about the business world.

'Going public marked his greatest success to date, but as a meticulous man, it's understandable that he'd plan for such problems.

'I wonder, how many people has his system caught and prevented from ruining this company? His absolute trust in that system suggests it's not untested.'

A dejected expression surfaced on Barov's face. 'Still… I wish he'd see me as an insider, and not another outsider…'

Dejection turned into worry as another thought came to mind. 'Oh god, what would happen if someone Roland trusts deeply betrayed him? I can't even fathom the impact that would have on him…'

…

"Tsk."

A frigid air surrounded Roland. 'I didn't expect Barov to take that the wrong way. I thought he of all people would understand me…

'I trust him, but it's just a precaution; I know I'll never have to use it.'

Suddenly a clap resounded in the office.

'Now's not the time to be thinking about stuff like that; there's still a vicious songbird in our system,' thought Roland, with a bright red hand print on each cheek.

Click. Click. Click.

His fingers became a pale blur over the keyboard as he furiously keyed in commands. With his prowess, Roland could easily have removed the spyware, but that would have been foolish.

If he removed this foreign program, Nightingale would know he was onto them. The smarter course of action would be to fix the system and attempt to recover the results of his scan. Should that fail, he could then try tracing the source of the hack through the spyware. If Nightingale knew he'd found the virus, he'd never be able to trace it.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

His mind was going at a hundred miles an hour as he restored what he could of the system without touching the virus. All the while, he was scoping out the hack, judging the scope of the software and which systems it had infected.

The tapping stopped, and silence prevailed.

He'd finished his work, for the time being.

The system was back up to full capacity, and the spyware remained untouched.

Roland should have continued to trace the source of the hack, but there was no need; he had uncovered the origin during his recovery.

It had come from within his building; Nightingale had been into the building personally to hack their system.