Usually the second cup of coffee cleared my head but not this morning.

I had grit in my eyes and my mouth felt like I'd been gargling with bleach.

I thought back to last night. Tossing and turning in sheets made of sandpaper as the neon cast gruesome shadows across the linoleum.

And still I see that damned pirate image. What did it mean?

They started turning up last week. USB drives that some clown had fashioned to look like death. And they were death.

We'd been lucky so far. First they'd just upset the dames in accounts with pictures that would shame a sailor. Now we were losing data.

Everyone had orders from above not to touch the cursed things, but nobody was listening.

And now my job was on the line - I'd been called upstairs to see K-B.