It was 6.00am on Monday when Carla entered the rear yard at Pharma Inc. No one was likely to be around at that time. She eased up the manhole cover and wearing disposable surgical gloves, felt for the fishing line in the foul gully. She placed the gismo in a fresh glove and tied the cuff to the line, sealed tight. She disposed of her gloves down the drain and replaced the cover.
To recover the gismo, she removed the boss and pulled it up the pipe with the fishing line, through the cleaning eye. Lastly, she cleaned up and flushed the line and glove back down the toilet. There was no longer any evidence that the drain had been tampered with.
Dean was writing down data from the screen, when Carla walked in to the lab and sat at her desk. She regularly started at 7.00am because it gave her time to watch the others, while keeping up with a punishing schedule.
As she observed Dean, she wondered how he ever became a chemist - he was certainly a poor choice for industrial espionage.
Carla surreptitiously fiddled with the connector to her monitor and attached the capture card. Dean was the only person who appeared to notice her. As she worked through the screens of latest results, she pressed the capture button. The results were now showing poor performance and matched the doctored patient records from The Organization.
Just before she left that evening, she removed the micro SD card, putting it on the desktop. Then she disconnected the gismo and wrapped it in a chocolate bar wrapper, dumping it into her waste bin. The waste would not be collected for a couple of days. When the bin was full, security went through it and disposed of it.
To finish, Carla encapsulated the small card in clear tape for protection and popped it in her mouth, next to a filled tooth. She cleared her desk and walked out through security.
Dean had watched every move, intently. When everyone else had left for the day, he unwrapped the gismo and examined it. What was the bimbo doing with this piece of tech, he thought?
Very early next morning, Dean brought in his own micro SD card, connected up the gismo to his monitor and took screen shots. Just before 7.00am, he replaced the wrapped gismo in the bin.
That night, he inspected the SD card contents on his computer. His prayers were answered.
Checking the time, he turned off his room light and went to the window. Easing the curtain back a fraction, he surveyed the street. He saw someone almost hidden in the shadows. The glow as the person drew on his cigarette, betrayed the secretive spy. Dean Wilson smiled to himself.