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xp_logsAfter doing the investigating into Eulud Pharm that Jason Wyngarde tasked her to do, Adrienne risks contacting Emma to warn her not to buy the company.
The internet cafe in the Bronx smelled like stale sweat, fried food, and pot. It was dimly lit, crowded, sticky, and filthy. Adrienne sat down at a station and glanced around again to be sure she wasn't being watched. She'd learned to spot tails when she'd become paranoid about Steven's intentions toward her, and kept up the habit after she'd had him killed and while the investigation was ongoing, so it wasn't entirely difficult to pick up the habit again now. Adrienne needed to be sure that Wyngarde wouldn't find out what she was doing. She hadn't been hiding out in Boston for over a year without contacting anyone from the mansion just to fuck things up now.
And yet she couldn't keep carrying on the way she had, either. Her company was all she had left, and now that Wyngarde was planning to take it away from her too, Adrienne felt like she had to do something. Anything, at this point, to feel like she still had some power, some control in this pathetic excuse for a life Wyngarde had left her with. Wrinkling her nose as she touched the sticky keyboard, Adrienne typed in the authentication code she'd paid for and logged on to hotmail, using a username and password that she and Emma had decided upon when she'd first joined the Hellfire Club. Emma had come up with an emergency contact plan, which would have tipped Adrienne off that the Hellfire Club was evil right out of the gate if she hadn't been so stupidly naive back then.
But now was not the time for regrets, and Adrienne focused on the task at hand. She logged onto the email account Emma had created and began to construct an email.
When she'd finished, Adrienne saved the email as a draft and signed out. She left the internet cafe, wondering vaguely why it was called a cafe when there was no food or coffee in sight, and rode the subway to Times Square, where she wandered around the McDonalds for a few minutes before buying a coffee and then leaning against the railing to watch the roller coaster. While she watched, she evened her breathing, cleared her mind, and went easily into her meditative state.
Chunky Monkey, she thought to herself, Hellabun, Teuscher chocolate, brownies.
Emma had become so attuned to waiting for the telepathic alarm in her mind to go off that it almost made her jump when it finally did. Fortunately she was able to moderate her reaction to a slight raise of her eyebrows, which didn’t startle the man in front of her. For a second, Emma considered waiting out the rest of the meeting, but then realised that there was no point. Adrienne had used the code words (and Emma still smiled slightly at the ones her sister had chosen as being ones she could never forget) that opened the telepathic box Emma had concealed inside her mind and that meant Adrienne was in trouble. Until she could read the e-mail she knew Adrienne had just sent her, she would not be able to concentrate on anything else. With a few brisk words, Emma disengaged from the conversation and re-routed the man to her personal assistant to organise a meeting later on when he had found out some spuriously useful set of facts that Emma invented in the space of moments.
When he had stepped from her office, Emma took out her personal laptop and used it to log in to the hotmail account she had set up so long ago. She pulled the e-mail out of draft and read it, almost unsurprised by its contents. She deleted the draft, erasing all traces of its existence, and logged back out, frowning at her desktop’s wallpaper. There were things that needed to be done and, reaching for the telephone, Emma began to do them.
The internet cafe in the Bronx smelled like stale sweat, fried food, and pot. It was dimly lit, crowded, sticky, and filthy. Adrienne sat down at a station and glanced around again to be sure she wasn't being watched. She'd learned to spot tails when she'd become paranoid about Steven's intentions toward her, and kept up the habit after she'd had him killed and while the investigation was ongoing, so it wasn't entirely difficult to pick up the habit again now. Adrienne needed to be sure that Wyngarde wouldn't find out what she was doing. She hadn't been hiding out in Boston for over a year without contacting anyone from the mansion just to fuck things up now.
And yet she couldn't keep carrying on the way she had, either. Her company was all she had left, and now that Wyngarde was planning to take it away from her too, Adrienne felt like she had to do something. Anything, at this point, to feel like she still had some power, some control in this pathetic excuse for a life Wyngarde had left her with. Wrinkling her nose as she touched the sticky keyboard, Adrienne typed in the authentication code she'd paid for and logged on to hotmail, using a username and password that she and Emma had decided upon when she'd first joined the Hellfire Club. Emma had come up with an emergency contact plan, which would have tipped Adrienne off that the Hellfire Club was evil right out of the gate if she hadn't been so stupidly naive back then.
But now was not the time for regrets, and Adrienne focused on the task at hand. She logged onto the email account Emma had created and began to construct an email.
When she'd finished, Adrienne saved the email as a draft and signed out. She left the internet cafe, wondering vaguely why it was called a cafe when there was no food or coffee in sight, and rode the subway to Times Square, where she wandered around the McDonalds for a few minutes before buying a coffee and then leaning against the railing to watch the roller coaster. While she watched, she evened her breathing, cleared her mind, and went easily into her meditative state.
Chunky Monkey, she thought to herself, Hellabun, Teuscher chocolate, brownies.
Emma had become so attuned to waiting for the telepathic alarm in her mind to go off that it almost made her jump when it finally did. Fortunately she was able to moderate her reaction to a slight raise of her eyebrows, which didn’t startle the man in front of her. For a second, Emma considered waiting out the rest of the meeting, but then realised that there was no point. Adrienne had used the code words (and Emma still smiled slightly at the ones her sister had chosen as being ones she could never forget) that opened the telepathic box Emma had concealed inside her mind and that meant Adrienne was in trouble. Until she could read the e-mail she knew Adrienne had just sent her, she would not be able to concentrate on anything else. With a few brisk words, Emma disengaged from the conversation and re-routed the man to her personal assistant to organise a meeting later on when he had found out some spuriously useful set of facts that Emma invented in the space of moments.
When he had stepped from her office, Emma took out her personal laptop and used it to log in to the hotmail account she had set up so long ago. She pulled the e-mail out of draft and read it, almost unsurprised by its contents. She deleted the draft, erasing all traces of its existence, and logged back out, frowning at her desktop’s wallpaper. There were things that needed to be done and, reaching for the telephone, Emma began to do them.
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