by Jim CaJacob
“Scott, you’re gonna keep quiet about this, right?”
“Mum’s the word.”
Chapter 11
Val smiled and waved his way past the bored kid in the guard shack, found the clubhouse, and parked. Max was waiting in the lobby, dressed in golf clothes, including those tasseled loafers that Val thought looked silly.
“Thanks for taking time on a Sunday, Val,” Max said. I’m out at six in the morning, and I thought it was important to talk face-to-face,” Max said. The grill was busy with good-humored golfers eating lunch and watching football. Max guided Val to the formal lunchroom. They were alone except for an elderly couple in a corner.
Max’s company was headquartered in New York, but he lived in Denver, where Val and his team were based.
“Val, I was very impressed with your team’s work at Tavron. I mean both the results and how you handled yourselves. We managed to keep them as a client.”
Val listened.
“We have another opportunity." He sipped his tomato juice. "As I’m sure you can guess, we’re doing quite a lot of Y2K work. As a matter of fact, we have over 15,000 billable people in place today.”
Val did some quick math in his head. These people have to average twelve hundred a day. Between fifteen and twenty million billable per day, just Marx, Barnes and Adams, just on Y2K.
Max continued. “This Y2K work is unique. I’m certain there has never been as much work done, worldwide, on a certain task. And this project, unlike all others in my long experience, has an absolute deadline. The due date is cast in stone.”
“I never thought of it that way,” Val said.
“So, as the fated day approaches, the sense of, shall we say urgency, increases. More and more work is being completed with less and less supervision. This is of concern to the partners, since after the new year our clients will have ample time to consider the quality of our work.”
Max went on. “Naturally, it is our responsibility to assure the quality of the work completed by our people. This becomes even more challenging since we can place as many people as we can find doing billable work.”
Max took a bite out of his cheeseburger. Someone in the noisy Grill Room cried out “Yes!” then the room exploded in a cheer. Val liked sports well enough, but he couldn’t think what could make him that excited about a pre-season NFL game. Probably they were mostly excited that they didn’t have to go home and cut the grass or interact with their children in a way that didn’t involve watching TV sports with daddy.
“We’re looking for a way to leverage technology to address this problem,” Max said.
“But your people have Y2K scrubbers already,” Val said. Scrubbers were programs, which automatically look for and resolve possible Y2K problems. “It’s a little late to be developing new ones, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is. No, we have something else in mind,” Max said. “We thought you and your team might apply your expertise to some particularly sensitive situations. Especially in the federal systems arena. The partners feel that we should take pains to avoid another public relations fiasco regarding government systems,” Max said.
The company, along with the other major accounting firms, had been sharply criticized for its role in the Savings and Loan scandal. Val thought at the time that a little sharp criticism was a small price to pay for the billions that the big accounting companies had charged for auditing the S&Ls and their dubious investments all those years.
“Any federal systems in particular?" Val asked.
“Well, yes, actually,” Max said. We have a team of bright young people working in the Department of Commerce. Specifically in the Bureau of Labor Statistics.”
“I’m surprised. I would have thought the big exposure would be in the high profile systems like Social Security or the IRS. If the checks don’t go out at the end of January 2000 there’s going to be hell to pay,” Val said.
“You’re right about that. But let’s just say I have an intuition about the team at BLS,” Max said.
Max did not seem like an intuitive person to Val.
“Val, what I’m about to tell you must be kept absolutely confidential.
Val shrugged and nodded.
“After you and your team discovered the scam at Tavron, I had a careful look at our history in that account. It turns out we had an IS team at work there for several months, up until the beginning of this year.
“Do you have any reason to suspect them more than any of the in-house people?" Val said. “As I remember, we had decided that it would be impossible to determine who had made the database changes.”
“Nothing firm. But this job doesn’t build your faith in the good side of human nature. Actually, there is one thing that’s been bothering me. The team leader specifically requested to be assigned to a Y2K federal project. We usually have to scrape the bottom of our very expensive barrel to staff those jobs. The young people think federal jobs involve too much paperwork, too little glamour, and very bad coffee,” Max said.
Val thought that Max must be more than a little suspicious, given the cost of Val’s team. Val’s company had just five full-time employees including himself. They almost always worked as sub-contractors to larger consulting firms like Max’s.
“So the challenge is to vette the work of this team without raising their suspicion, and without getting the client overly concerned about the possibility,” Max said.
“So, we’d have to hack the system from outside, then find out what our whiz kids have been working on, then find out if their work is on the up and up?” Val said.
“I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to do your job,” Max said.
“What happens if we get busted? Wilton could lose his green card,” Val said.
“I have a special relationship with an appropriately-placed Under-Secretary. If absolutely necessary, I will convince him to say that he commissioned the audit. I realize this assignment is, shall we say, unconventional. I am prepared to compensate you and your team quite well for your efforts. I was thinking of a flat fee,” Max said. He reached in his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to Val. A large dollar figure was written on the paper.
Val put his chin in his hand and looked away. When he was thinking his lower lip would curl over his upper lip. “I’ll need 24 hours to get you an answer. I need to tell Jenny and Wilton the whole story. Who else knows about this? How much time do we have?” he said.
“Only me. No other partners and certainly none of our clients. As to time, our crew has been there two months and is scheduled to finish in two to three more.” Max said. “I’ll page you tomorrow evening with a number where you can call me. Sure you don’t care for a glass of wine or something?”
“Thanks anyway, Max. I’d better start rounding up my team. Talk to you tomorrow. And thanks for lunch.”
Chapter 12
Josh fired up his laptop and began composing the email for Hansi. Hansi was neither stupid nor naïve, Josh thought. He was, however, greedy, and, according to Estelle, willing to live a little dangerously if there was something in it for him. Josh needed him, or someone just like him. The idea was to make a currency exchange trade that, while large, would be lost in the quantity of money changing hands each day.
You didn’t have to spell things out for someone like Hansi. Instead, you made oblique references, and then listened for equally oblique replies, which tell you whether or not the other person got the point. After a series of such exchanges Josh and Hans had agreed on this experiment. What came next depended on how things went.
After Scott had first mentioned the statistical programs, Josh had been reading up on currency exchange. Normally not a reader, more a channel surfer, he had done his best to dig in. Estelle had helped a lot.
Bureau of Labor Statistics, the shop where Josh and Scott were working, published dozens of economic statistics. These had exciting names like Private Non-farm Busin
ess-Output per Unit of Capital. Some of these were published monthly, others annually. The monthly statistics came out at 8:30 a.m. Eastern time on a specific day of the month, which itself was published a year in advance. These statistics were always referred to as “eagerly awaited” because of their direct and indirect impacts on the economy.
The direct impact came in the form of various adjustments that contracts contained. For example, some unions and insurance plans had cost of living allowances built into their contracts. If inflation went up, so did payroll.
The indirect impact was much larger. Investors made their decisions based on their reading of the U.S. economy’s tea leaves. They decided how to balance their portfolios between stocks and bonds. Many of these decisions were made by computer, based on instantaneous changes.
Every day, a trillion and a half dollars changed hands in the world. This added up to something like 300 bucks a day for every person on the planet, including Josh’s Aunt Rose, all those squalling newborns in third world countries, the entire roster of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders - everybody. Everybody in the world buys and sells, on average, 100 grand per year. Amazing!
Of course, most of us, including Josh, his aunt, and presumably most of the underprivileged babies of color, saw very little of this. Instead, it flowed back and forth between big institutions like banks. What’s more, something like three fourths of the flow of money had nothing to do with goods or services – in other words, nobody was paying for an actual measurable anything. Three fourths was money changing hands for its own sake: interest, currency conversion, and so on.
Josh opened up Excel. Let’s see, a thousandth of one percent of a trillion dollars would be. . . $10 million. He ought to be smart enough to figure out how to get his thousandth of one percent some single night.
The phone rang. “Calder,” he said.
It was Mona. She had been drinking. Josh didn’t think of Mona as spoiled. Spoiled implied some kind of upbringing in which an otherwise normal person has their personality altered through overly permissive parenting. Mona’s personality was proscribed in her DNA – Josh had met her parents. It was impossible to imagine the pre-teen Mona riding a bike to a Brownie meeting or doing the dishes before she could watch TV.
“Mone, I told you I had work to do.”
Josh’s brief replies punctuated Mona-logues of up two minutes each. Mona’s voice didn’t get louder when she was upset, but the words did come faster. And, Josh might have said she swore like a sailor, but the only sailor he had ever met was his cousin Barry, who raced his dad’s Lightning on weekends in the Sound and pretended he wasn’t gay.
“OK. Alberobello. I’ll be there in forty-five.”
He held the phone away from his ear.
“I won’t wear my Dockers. Remind me which is last year’s shirt.”
Longer silence.
“I do listen. . .”
Josh sat with his mouth open, paralyzed in mid-word.
“I’m on my way as soon as I send this email.”
In the cab crossing town Josh ran through the plan for the thousandth time. First, Scott had to make the mod to the program at the right time. Josh was sure Scott would do what he wanted. You just had to talk to him right.
Getting Hansi to do what Josh wanted was trickier. Basically, Josh was looking to make a commission on the profit Hansi made on a ForEx trade. He could care less how Hansi got the money.
Josh hadn’t decided how much to make on the deal. He knew the number had two commas in it. He would have to split it with Scott and Estelle. On the other hand, it wouldn’t exactly be taxable income.
Then there was the question of whether to do this once or several times. He and Scott would not be working at BLS forever, but Josh figured they were good for another few months at least.
The maître-de at Alberobello acted like Josh was making up his story about meeting friends who were already seated. Mona was at a table with three light-skinned Latino-looking guys, laughing. Josh could have sworn she looked disappointed just for a second when he walked up to their table.
Chapter 13
“Josh, check this out,” Scott said. “They started keeping track of this stuff in World War I. Guess how much a quart of milk cost in 1920.”
Josh had little or no idea how much a quart of milk cost today. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t remember ever buying milk.
“That’s great Scott. Ready for lunch?" Josh said.
“Almost. Can we invite Malcolm?" Scott said.
“Let me guess. You want the inside scoop on which cardigan colors will be hot for the fall season,” Josh said.
“He’s a good guy, Josh. You’ll like him,” Scott said.
“Scott, we have stuff to discuss. Ask him to lunch tomorrow. Come on, we won’t get a table anywhere if we don’t get a move on.”
Scott put his jacket on as he walked over to Malcolm’s cube. He stood in the door for a minute, then walked by Josh into the elevator lobby. “Josh, sometimes you’re such an asshole,” he said.
They rode in Scott’s Jeep. Josh had decided that the Irish place was most likely to have a quiet table in a corner. Scott ordered an iced tea. Josh ordered vodka on the rocks. Scott noticed that Josh’s vodka brand of choice changed about every two months. This time it came from Belarus. It was unusual but not unheard of for Josh to have hard liquor at lunch.
“Scott, it’s time,” Josh said.
“Time for what?”
“Time to demonstrate our proof of concept,” Josh said.
“Help me,” Scott said.
“Scott, its time that we demonstrate our ability to manipulate these statistics.”
“This month?" Scott said.
“This month,” Josh said. “You tell me the code is ready. We need a test. You’re the one who’s always insisting on testing.”
“I don’t know, man. Malcolm says these people really freak if anything weird happens to these numbers. Like one time they released the data by accident the day before the official release date and it really hit the fan,” Scott said.
Josh closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Did he intentionally surround himself with people who required nurse-maiding, were they attracted to him, or what? He couldn’t be too pushy with Scott.
“It’s up to you, man. You’re the one that brought it up. As I recall, you said something about how bogus the whole system was and how we should expose it for the fraud it is,” Josh said. “I was the one with cold feet. You convinced me. So what’s up? All of a sudden you’re afraid?”
Scott liked to pretend that he operated on some higher plane, but he was as macho as the next guy, Josh thought.
“I’m not afraid of getting caught, if that’s what you mean. I told you that the code was stealth, Josh. I meant it.”
“I believe you. Hey, man, you’re the one with the agenda here. To tell you the truth I don’t lay awake at night worrying about the hypocrisy of government statistics. Like I care.”
“You should care. The lives of millions of people are being affected every month to make some politicians look good,” Scott said.
Josh noticed with satisfaction that Scott was taking the bit again.
“And the best way to make the point is to show how easy it is to manipulate the system,” Josh said.
“Exactly.”
Josh waited. Scott sat, his eyes focused somewhere over Josh’s right shoulder, chewing his lower lip. “OK, let’s go for it,” Scott said.
“Scott, once we start there’s no turning back. I need your word,” Josh said.
“Have you decided who to leak to?" Scott said.
“I’ve narrowed it down to one of three people. Don’t worry, I’ll run it by you before I talk to anybody. What are our next steps?”
“The data has to be in by Friday the 5th. It’s released on the 19th. I set the trigger in the program sometime between those dates. The program does the res
t. What’s the number?”
“It doesn’t matter, as long we know in advance,” Josh said.
“It can be whatever we want it to be. Just remember, the bigger the jump from previous months the more suspicious people will become,” Scott said.
“Are we together on this?" Josh said.
“I’m in.” Scott nodded his head as if convincing himself. “Yep, I’m in.”
Josh’s fries were cold. He drained his vodka, grabbed the check and got up. Things were looking up.
Chapter 14
When Wilton went shopping for his first car, the macho yin wanted a vintage GTO, while the practical yang suggested a four cylinder Camry. He settled on a ten year old Land Rover. It was loaded with gadgets, including a special differential that would come in handy in case he had to drive up any glaciers in the course of his computer consulting work.
The office was in a small office park surrounded by trees. Wilton was pretty sure no feng shui consultant had signed off on the layout, but it seemed pleasing enough to him. It was a standard one-story suite with plenty of parking. There was a fairly unobtrusive antenna on the roof that provided a wireless link to the Internet.
Val’s bookkeeper came in once a week. They relied on voicemail instead of a receptionist, so today only Val, Jenny and Wilton were in the office. Val’s company was part of a loose confederation of small consulting companies that coalesced into virtual corporations depending on the size of the job and who the lead contractor was.
Jenny was already in her office. She had on her headphones but noticed Wilton and waved. Wilton found her fascinating. She was 100% Chinese biologically. With her clear, strong features she looked like a classic pigtailed poster girl from the fifties. But her personality had been filtered through American culture her whole life and she came across like a power shopper with a Math Ph.D.
He had almost never discussed their common heritage with Jenny. Her standards for her colleagues and most of all herself were very high. She treated Wilton like anyone else, which was all the more motivating.
Strictly speaking he and Jenny both worked for Val. In practice Jenny naturally assumed the lead technical role. The three of them always worked together sometimes supplemented by other consultants. Val insisted that his team be given considerable autonomy on all projects, to the point of turning down some work. It wasn’t a matter of being snobby. While their tools and methods were unconventional, the results they got were compelling enough to make the policy stick.