Chapter 1

Noah sat at his desk, manipulating his Blackberry. One of his co-workers strolled past his cubicle. "Is that your new toy?" she asked.

"Oh, hi, Melissa. Yeah -- I just got this yesterday. My old phone finally died."

"That brick you carried around? What was that -- circa 1999?"

"I liked that phone," Noah replied. "The buttons were nice and big ... and it could double as a weapon. My contract with Sprint was up, so I switched to Verizon and bought this."

"Did you keep your old number?" she asked.

"No -- it wasn't worth the hassle -- no one calls me anyway."

"Why did you pick the Blackberry?"

"It's what I see the traders carry, so I figured it would be a good choice."

"The traders carry Blackberries because that's what the firm buys for them. They're hooked into the corporate messaging system. I had a Blackberry and hated it ... turned it in for a Palm Pre."

"I don't think I could become accustomed to getting all touchy-feely with a screen," Noah replied. "I wanted one with buttons and one that can run apps. So I picked this."

"How do you like it so far?" Melissa asked.

"I'm still getting to know it. I like being able to access my email when I'm not at home." Noah set the device on his desk. He turned to his desktop computer, logged on and began reviewing his work queue. His Blackberry warbled to signal an incoming text message.

He picked it up and manipulated it. The message was from a number unknown to him. Seth. Pls call me. we need 2 talk. R., he read. "Melissa, check this out," he called to his officemate.

"What is it?" He showed her the screen. "What the ... Do you know whose number that is?"

He shook his head. "Maybe the cell carriers recycle numbers and I got this poor bloke's old one."

"Are you going to text back and say it's a wrong number?"

"I'll see if any more come in," he replied. "Maybe it's just a fluke -- someone fat-fingered the number." He began working on the first assignment in his queue. His phone rang and he picked it up. "Noah," he said into the mouthpiece.

Goldman is DK-ing our trade for a hundred thousand Abitibi. Can you straighten it out?

"Yes, Mike." He hung up the phone and brought up a screen on his desktop.

Melissa approached him again. "Are you coming to lunch?" she asked.

"I'm going to have to work through my lunch hour in order to get this done."

"Would you like me to bring you a tray?"

"Oh, that would be great. Thanks, Melissa."

"How are you doing now that Celia moved away."

"What can I do? I'm happy for her. I miss her ... We're staying good friends."

"That's good. Are you pursuing a long-distance relationship?"

"I can't do that and neither can she. It was great while it lasted."

"And, her little boy?"

"I miss him, too ... and Celia tells me that he misses me. He's only three -- he'll forget all about me in a couple of years."

"I'll bring a tray for you." He watched her head toward the stairwell.

His Blackberry buzzed again with an incoming text message. He picked it up and read the screen. Seth: Why wont u call? I have something important to tell u. I no u told me its bad to call you @ work but this important PLS call. R.

Melissa returned and placed a lunch tray on his desk. "They were having burger bar. I didn't know what you like, so I put on everything -- cheese, onion, tomato, lettuce, pickle..."

"Everything is good." He held up his handheld. "Another text."

"Noah -- you need to reply that it's a wrong number."

"This has my curiosity piqued. It's like a little soap opera. Who is this Seth? Who is R? What's so important. I'll reply ... eventually; but I want to see how this develops. Thanks for bringing the tray."

"Oh, any time, Noah."

Noah returned to his screen and tapped his keyboard. An Instant Message box popped up. MIKE: Is that Goldman trade fixed?

Noah typed a reply. NOAH: Yes. The new trader entered wrong code.

MIKE: Good work The box disappeared.

He returned to his screen and brought up the next item in his work queue. The Blackberry buzzed and he read another message. Seth: Getting desperate. Pls call. This message was followed with another. Dont make me do something.

His boss stepped into the center of the room. "Daily huddle, everyone," he announced. Noah and his co-workers filed into a conference room. "Let's keep this short. What are the hot items today? Melissa -- that Addecco trade?"

"It's a mess ... foreign currency, wrong exchange rate ... I'm working on it."

"Make sure it's done by close. Noah -- that Goldman?"

"Yet another instance of Douglas entering the wrong code," Noah replied. "Someone needs to sit down with him for some training."

"Can you handle it?"

Noah nodded. "Sure."

"Anything else?" Mike asked and looked around the room. He clapped his hands one. "Good. Let's go."

Noah returned to his desk. He opened an IM window and sent a message to the new trader asking for a meeting.

Melissa approached his desk. "Any new texts for Seth?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact..." He picked up his Blackberry and displayed the last messages he received.

"The plot thickens," she replied.

"I see you enjoy a good soap opera, too."

"I don't have enough drama in my own life."

"Don't you get enough here?"

"Yeah -- but the wrong kind. I gotta fix that Addecco trade or I'll have plenty of drama with Mike."

Noah set down his handheld and noticed an indicator he had overlooked. "Hey," he called. "I've got voice mail."

Melissa returned to his desk. "Is it from her?"

"I'm opening it now. I don't know who else would be sending me voice mail. I haven't told anyone about this new number." He pressed keys and listened. He heard a woman's voice.

Seth, it's me. I'm sorry for calling. I know you said calling you at work would get you into trouble, but you haven't answered any of my texts. She let out a sigh. The reason I'm trying to get hold of you is ... well, I went to the doctor last week and he gave me news I need to share with you. PLEASE call me. PLEASE.

"What is it?" Melissa asked.

"At least now we know R's gender..." He pressed keys to replay the message and handed her the Blackberry. She held it to her ear and then handed it back. "What do you think it means?" Noah asked. "Does she have some disease?"

"Maybe she's pregnant."

"Is that the first thing that comes to a woman's mind?"

"It's the first thing that always comes to a woman's mind ... IF she's been engaging in certain behaviors."

"Maybe she learned she has some disease," Noah suggested. "Maybe she thinks he infected her or she infected him."

"It's possible. He knocked her up is the most likely explanation."

Mike strolled down the corridor and caught Melissa's attention. "Addecco?"

"I'm on it." She dashed into her cubicle.

"I'm going to have a talk with Douglas," Noah said, "and give him a tutorial on the fine art of broker codes."

Noah powered down his desktop, picked up his Blackberry and slipped it into his pocket. He headed for the elevator. "Hold it," he heard Melissa call and he put his arm across the door to prevent it closing.

Melissa joined him in the elevator. "Did you fix that Addecco?" he asked.

"Yes ... or I would be toast right now. Any more messages from the mysterious R?"

"Another voice mail. She said she was going to work and for Seth to leave voicemail ... and she'd try calling when she can."

"Not much drama there," she remarked. "Are you going to Rider's for a cold one?"

He shook his head. "I have to walk over to Hubbard's. I need a new shirt. I blew the elbow out of this one."

"Get longer sleeves," she replied. "My husband was always doing that until I started buying shirts with sleeves two inches too long."

He walked two blocks and stepped into Hubbard's Department Store. The escalator took him to the second floor and he began sorting through stacks of dress shirts, comparing prices and sizes. Finding a satisfactory one he headed for the cashier.

Behind the register was a young woman who had waited on him before. She was of a slim build, medium height with shoulder-length brunette hair. She had full lips, gray eyes and she wore oval-shaped, wire frame glasses; and a small, white stone nose stud pierced her right nostril. Her nametag read, Rachel.

Noah placed the shirt on the counter. He made eye contact with her and she flashed a quick smile. She scanned the price tag with a handheld device and her register beeped. She scanned it again and it beeped again.

With an exasperated sigh she punched in the numbers. The register again beeped. She re-entered the codes. "Twenty-seven thirty with tax," she said. Noah held up his Visa card. "Cash or Hubbard's charge?"

"Here," he said and she took the card from him. She ran the card through and her register beeped. She ran it again with a quick, swiping motion. Again her register beeped. "Try a slow, steady motion."

She let out an exasperated sigh and ran the card through slowly and deliberately. "That worked." She pressed keys to complete the transaction and handed him a slip to sign. "Receipt with you or in the bag?"

"In the bag." She handed him his purchase and turned away. "Miss? Miss? ... Rachel?" She spun toward him. "May I have my card back, please?"