Run: A Novel by Andrew Grant

cut me off with an urgent waggle of his index finger. Then he nodded to his guy, who tossed the disc on the floor. It landed near my feet, and McKenna mimed a stomping gesture to me. I hesitated, then stepped forward and crushed it under my heel.
    “Seriously?” I felt a shiver dance down my vertebrae. “A bug? In my phone? How long had it been there?”
    “Impossible to be sure.” McKenna shrugged. “It’s old technology.Been around for years, but people keep using it because it works. It’s pretty basic. It only gives you audio, and it has a limited range. But it gets the job done.”
    McKenna’s guy opened his case and took out a shiny black box about the size of an iPhone. He flicked a switch on its side, then brought it over to the bookcase.
    “We call it a sniffer. It picks up radio waves.” McKenna spread his arms wide. “If anything else is transmitting, this will find it.”
    The guy reached the end of the top shelf, pausing next to each book in turn. He moved down a shelf and started in the opposite direction. This time he made it less than halfway along before I heard a high-pitched squeal. The guy switched the machine off with his thumb and started to gently ease the nearest book away from its neighbors.
    “Are those all about computers?” McKenna looked incredulous. “You could fill a technical library with them.”
    “Nearly all of them are.” I was on the defensive. “It’s my job, remember.”
    “Have you read them all?”
    “Of course. Some of them several times.”
    “Really? Because a couple look a little dusty. Oh, hang on—I think we have another winner.”
    The second guy had unearthed something from between the books. Another device. It was made of white plastic, about the size of a box of matches, and a narrow wire about eight inches long with a sliver of glass at the end was sticking out from one of its narrow sides. As I watched, the guy snapped the wire and slipped the remains into his pocket.
    “This one you can’t just buy at RadioShack.” McKenna made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, held it to his eye, and peered at me. “It’s video. And did you see how small the lens was? It’s a lot more sophisticated. We’re going to take it with us. If we catch a break we might be able to trace where it came from.”
    “Someone was watching me? In my own office?” For the first time I was glad Carolyn wasn’t here. She’d have freaked.
    Unless Carolyn was the one who’d planted the camera
.
    “I’m afraid so. But I’m not surprised. Video increases the value of the intel tenfold. And it would be very sloppy to rely on a single device. If it were me, I’d have placed at least four in a room like this. In particular, I’d want one covering the desk. I presume that’s where your computer usually is?”
    “Yes. But there’s no other furniture anywhere near the desk. Where would you plant it?”
    “Maybe in the light?” McKenna suggested.
    McKenna’s guy held the sniffer up, but it remained silent.
    “What about the desk lamp?” McKenna asked.
    The guy tested it, but again came up dry.
    “There isn’t anywhere else,” I said.
    “There is one place,” McKenna countered.
    “Where?”
    “How long has that been there?”
    “What?”
    “The painting. Do you ever take it down? Store it when you’re away? Have it cleaned?”
    “No. Never. It hasn’t been moved since I bought it. And no one ever touches it besides me.”
    Unless … Carolyn had always hated that picture. And if Weimann had revealed the role she’d played in me buying it …
    “It’s in the perfect position.” McKenna pointed to the painting, and then my desk. “We have to check it.”
    “No.” I stepped forward, as if I could somehow protect it from something that might have already happened. “No way. Please.”
    “We have no choice,” McKenna said. “But would you feel better if you did it yourself?”
    McKenna stepped back, out of the way, and his guy handed me the