The Housewife Assassin's Killer App by Josie Brown

shake my head adamantly. “It will never happen.”
    Carl leans in. “Oh? What makes you say that?” If I could, I’d wipe the smirk off his face—with a sledgehammer.
    “Because you’re the reason for the security vulnerability in the first place. You won’t get anywhere near them because you’ll be put in jail.”  
    “Are you willing to make a little wager on that—say, partial custody of Mary, Jeff and Trisha?”
    The thought stops me cold.
    But, is anything really at stake here? There must be some reason why the hacker led us to Carl’s personal laptop.  
    “Be careful, Carl. There’s a witness present. You won’t be able to renege on it, as you have so many times in the past.”
    He shrugs. “All the better, because if you’re wrong, you’ll have to hold to your word too.”
    Dominic’s eyes have shifted back and forth between us, as if he’s watching a tennis match. “Donna, old girl, remember,” he murmurs to me, “Arnie’s analysis isn’t complete. Are you sure you want to do this?”
    Carl has given me a chance to keep him away from my children, once and for all.
    Go for it.
    “Let’s shake on it.” I stand up, and so does Carl. I put out my hand.  
    He takes it. His shake is firm. No funny business.
    Only when he tries to stifle another sneeze by reaching for his kerchief does he break his grip on me. “Damn it,” he exclaims, as he presses his phone intercom button. “Susan, I need a box of tissues— now.”
    “She left for lunch. Most people take one, you know.” I find myself feeling sorry for her. I can’t imagine what it’s like to work for Carl.
    The two raps on Carl’s office door are loud, and followed by two more. Even before Carl has an opportunity to respond, Arnie ducks his head through the door. “Pardon me! Mrs. Stone, we’ve found the computer that was the malware’s point of entry.”
    Finally! The diagnostic on Carl’s computer is completed. I smile triumphantly. “The one belonging to the director, I presume?”
    “Um…” Arnie purses his lips. “Well, no, not exactly. It was Susan’s.”
    Carl frowns. “Well, I’ll be damned! She let someone use her computer? If so, it’s a breach of protocol!”  
    I turn to Carl. “Admit it—you accessed her computer without her knowledge!”
    “Good try, sweetheart,” he smirks. “But you forget one very important detail. Each of the IC computers is activated by both hand and eye scans.”
    Arnie winces. “Susan isn’t at lunch. She pulled an Elvis—that is to say, she’s already left the building. I tried texting her, but it turns out she left her cell phone on her desk. The security footage shows her driving off the lot.”
    “We’ll soon find her, and she’ll verify that she was only following your orders,” I insist.
    Despite this being a far-from-perfect scenario for Carl, he bursts out laughing. “I look forward to your full report, Arnie. I’m sure POTUS will too.” He turns to me. “And, Donna, I’ll see you and the kids this time next week.”
    I’m too numb to respond. I’m determined to wait until I’m back in my hotel room before having my breakdown.
    I must keep my mind off of my personal trauma. I turn my focus to the matter at hand: desperately seeking Susan.  

    Arnie waits until Carl has shut his door, then murmurs, “The Mad Hacker left another clue—a file that was to open only if this computer was analyzed for malware.”
    He clicks open a file on Susan’s hard drive. Letters fly around, forming words that say: It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards.
    “Ah! That was the White Queen,” Dominic answers, matter-of-factly.
    “You’re right.” I’ve finally found a good use for him, other than that of an extra man at a dinner party—partner in a game of Lewis Carroll Trivial Pursuit.
    Impressed, Arnie releases a low whistle, then takes a screenshot of it with his iPad, which he immediately forwards to Emma for cryptanalysis.  
    Dominic bows at the