280 THE BAIT

The fluorescent lights of Luke's office buzzed overhead, casting a sterile sheen on the disarray around him. Empty coffee cups marched in a ragged line across his desk, each a testament to a sleepless night. Financial reports were scattered like fallen leaves, their numbers swimming before his tired eyes. Despite the official pronouncements that the crisis was ending, a fresh knot of worry tightened in his gut. This morning, another sizable chunk of money vanished from the company accounts. It was a phantom drain, a thief who seemed to operate with an uncanny knowledge of their security protocols. Luke tapped his pen rhythmically against the desk, a counterpoint to the insistent thrumming in his head. He glanced at the clock: 2:17 a.m. Against Agent Pierce's stern warnings, he'd decided to stake out the server room himself. He grabbed a worn black jacket, the leather whispering promises of forgotten nights spent chasing shadows. Instead of his usual polished oxfords, he pulled on wel