Wild Fiction

She pushed the chair back from the desk. On the shelf was a box of disks. She pulled out two three-and-a-half inch floppy disks. She stuck the first one into the computer, copied Wild Fiction.doc onto it, and then repeated the process with the second one. She put both disks into her handbag and closed it. She right clicked on the original file on the computer and selected Delete. At the question, ‘Are you sure you want to send ‘Wild Fiction.doc’ to the Recycle Bin?’ she clicked the ‘Yes’ button. She located the Recycle Bin on the desktop and right clicked on it and selected the Empty Recycle Bin option. At the ‘Are you sure you want to delete these 439 items?’ she clicked on ‘Yes’ and watched as the contents of the recycle bin disappeared.
Rebecca had her hand on the key to the study and was about to unlock it when she noticed the rest of the floppy disks lying on the bookshelf. She put her bag down, walked over to them, and picked them up examining each one and the labels on them. They were all backup disks of the work that the author had been doing. She looked around the room and eyed the rubbish bin. No, too simple, she thought, he might be able to recover them from there. Then she saw the electromagnet with which Genevieve had almost destroyed the computer’s hard disk. She picked it up, unwound the cable, and plugged it into the wall. Placing it next to the disks on the shelf, she pulled the lever over and heard it hum with energy. The disks and few paperclips that were lying near them jumped up and attached themselves to the underside of the magnet. After a few seconds, she pushed the lever back and the disks slid off. For some reason, the paperclips clung on. A smile broke out on her face. If she could have patted herself on the back, she would have.
She put her head around the door of the author’s bedroom and saw him fast asleep. She showered and dressed in a low cut red tank top and black mini skirt. The Jaguar’s engine roared to life and the wheels spun on the gravel driveway as she slipped the clutch and shot off into the lane and then towards London.
She reached Meta Publishing at exactly 9:33am. She sensed that she had unsettled Martin Kent by her insistence on seeing him. After a few moments alone in the office with him he stopped fidgeting and pushed himself back into his large black leather chair. Rebecca declined his offer of a chair and instead stood in front of his desk with the manuscript placed squarely in front of him.