Grace stubbed out her cigarette in the sink, and ran water over the crushed Newport before grinding the butt in the garbage disposal. She shined a Maglite into the disposal to make sure the damn thing was gone, then lit a fresh Newport and retreated to her computer.
A few mouse clicks later and Grace was studying the take-out menus from eateries near her office. Three Rivers Deli was the closest—but their corned beef was lousy, and the company had excellent encryption on their host server. Gyro Circus was an easy target, but not many people from her office ate there. Her plan required a large audience.
Grace took a long drag from the Newport, and scanned the system programming code for the Daniel Island Café. “Gotcha,” she said. “You guys should put as much time into your firewalls as you do your crepe-of-the-day.”