End of Secrets Read Online Free Page A

lurked over the intersection, dominating the canopy of the neighborhoo d’s tangled commercial jungle. A few seconds later, the board served up a new ad, this one featuring a naked model, artistically obscured in shadow, pitching a me n’s fragrance (with dubious effect, given the palette of smells—garbage , bus exhaust, urine, the overcooked meats sizzling on vendor s’ carts—all competing for attention at street level). And then the giant LED screen flashed back to the Hollywood production, invading sight lines in every direction.
    She skirted the bu m’s outstretched legs and crossed Broadway toward Lafayette. She knew all she needed to know about Apocalypse . First, that the film was crap and she had no intention of viewing it. And second, that she did n’t matter; the movie was predestined for box-office glory with or without her approval. But mostly, she was aware that the studio that had produced the film was owned by the ONE Corporation, the worl d’s largest media conglomerate.
    After the meeting that morning with Travis Bradley, Kera had gone directly to Gabb y’s office. Although Kera now considered Haw k’s deputy director approachable, she was as aware as sh e’d been at their first meeting—in the back of that SUV on the National Mall—that this was a shrewd, impatient woman who was difficult to please. Kera knew nothing about Gabb y’s personal life but assumed it was impossible she was married.
    “You look flushed,” Gabby said when Kera was escorted in by her bos s’s militant gatekeeper of an assistant. “Wha t’v e you got?”
    One thing Kera had learned through a half-dozen embarrassing reprimands over the preceding two years was that the deputy director loathed having her time wasted. Kera spoke without sitting down.
    “ONE Corp. hired a dozen investment bankers from prestigious Wall Street banks over the last ten months. All men, of course. Quants—the math guys on the Street who turn market data into money.”
    “And Bradley was one of them?”
    “Yes, tha t’s confirmed.”
    “What does he want?”
    “H e’s doing the whistle-blower dance. The charges are a little foggy, but he claims ONE is running some sort of Total Information Awareness data-mining project and selling off the consumer data.”
    “Selling it to who?”
    “He would n’t give any specifics.”
    “Do you believe him?”
    “I do n’t know. ONE is n’t an investment bank. Hiring a dozen of the best quants in the world does strike me as odd.” But that was n’t the main thing about the meeting with Bradley that had stayed with Kera. “His fear was real. Whatever he thinks he knows, h e’s not comfortable talking about it. Then again, he said he would n’t go to the Feds, so maybe he knows his story is n’t credible. Want me to look into it?” she said, hoping Gabby would say no.
    “No. Forget it. Go home. Go to the park. Go to a museum. I do n’t care. Pretend you enjoy having an afternoon off. Tha t’s an order.”
    “Yes, m a’a m.”

    Sh e’d lost all track of time when she heard the key in the lock. She met Parker at the door and embraced him before he could pull off his shoes, lifting herself a few inches to his height by going on tiptoe. His familiar smell was layered with a stale whiff of recycled airplane air. His youthful, all-American handsomeness was textured with an extra da y’s scruff. When his cheek brushed hers, she felt a warm, satisfying shiver. It reminded her, in the way that only a touch, smell, or song can surface a memory, of the first months sh e’d spent with him. The months when sh e’d first detected the symptoms of love.
    “I brought us something,” he said, unveiling a bottle of wine from a paper bag.
    When she saw the label, she smiled. “You already proposed to me, remember?”
    “I want to hear your answer again. The first time I was too nervous to take it all in.”
    She mussed his sandy-blond hair and then stood back and made a show of contemplating