An ex-Chicago cop and rapidly approaching thirty-five, I'd hung up my badge and opted for life as corporate security chief three years ago. Since then, my duties at Callifonte Inc. had amounted to little more than counting paper clips, pencils, and ink-jet printer refills. But that morning, the scope of my duties was about to change.

"So you think someone's leaking our bids to the competing firms?"

"Frankly, yes. And I'm asking you to find out who that is." He drew his finely arched eyebrows together, studying me closely for a moment. "Morgan," he said, "that's an odd name for a woman."

"Yes, sir," I answered, summoning up my sweetest little girl smile. "I don't know why my parents picked it."

"Yes," he said with a slight chuckle, "I suppose you're right. None of us get to choose our names, do we?"

I was used to the reaction. Men can turn defensive about a woman having a name they traditionally see as male. I'd learned years ago to shift their displeasure with my handle from me to my parents. Life's tough enough without offending nearly half of the world's population

"Anyway, these are the names and addresses of all the people we've fired within the last five years," Winthrop resumed. "Plus, there's a run-down in there on the companies that have won the bids."

"Then you think the leaks are the work of an ex-employee?"

"That's my assumption, yes. That's where companies are usually the most vulnerable. Can you think of any more information that you need?"

"Yes, I want the names of all the people who have access to our final bids. And I want unquestioned access to any documents I think are important."

"Consider it done," Winthrop said. "Run your requests through Judith." He leaned back in his wide chair. "Between us, Morgan, I can't stress enough the need for a quick solution. We have an important bid coming up in two month's time. If we lose that, we all may be looking for new jobs."

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