by D. R. Bell
They fetched the Jeep from the valet service and drove to the real estate office, which was only a few miles away. Sarah Kaufman was not in yet. Another agent offered his services, but Maggie politely declined saying that Sarah was recommended to them. She left her cell phone with the receptionist (David was impressed she had it memorized). Maggie suggested they go to a mall they’d seen on the way and pick up a few things that were not purchased in yesterday’s rush. As far as David was concerned, they had everything they needed, but he saw no point in arguing.
Maggie got a purse, a dress, a pair of walking shoes, and a few clothing items of a delicate nature. David purchased a book on computer and network security.
Friday, 4/29/2022, 10:08 a.m. MST
Maggie’s phone rang. It was Sarah Kaufman. Maggie said they were from California looking for real estate in Arizona. They agreed to meet at a restaurant by the mall. David and Maggie went there, left the name “Brockman” with the hostess, and ordered coffee. A few minutes later, they saw the hostess directing a heavyset woman in her fifties to their table.
She came toward them with a purposeful stride, projecting a go-getter image. Sarah Kaufman had a practiced smile, but her face had a harried, tired look. Following introductions, she asked, “So are you looking to move to a ‘red’ state?”
“What do you mean?”
“You are from California. The big reason for the current boom in the real estate business is in people from California and New York moving to Arizona and Texas, and vice versa, prior to separation. Mind you, business-wise I am not complaining, but it’s rather sad.”
David decided to drop the pretense. “Ms. Kaufman, we are not really here to buy real estate. We’re trying to investigate your brother’s death. Frank Gorman mentioned your name.”
Sarah turned pale and got up, saying, “I’m sorry, I can’t talk to you.”
Maggie begged her. “Please, Ms. Kaufman, the same people who killed Frank were trying to kill us, and they may have had something to do with your brother’s death. Give us five minutes. If you want to leave after that, we won’t stop you.”
Sarah Kaufman sat down, eyeing them warily. “OK, five minutes.”
David hurried. “We both ended up involved in this by accident. A man from Williams’s security escaped the 2020 assassination while taking Jonathan’s computer. He was trying to sell information to the Chinese. He set me up at random. Frank was trying to help us. The information that he shared saved our lives. Unfortunately, the Russians were also after this. They killed Frank and would have killed us if we did not get help at the last moment. We escaped, but we want to find out what Jonathan found.”
Maggie pleaded. “Many people died this week, and it’s frightening. We are scared, too. But whatever your brother had must have been very important, because they don’t want this to become public. We need to find it, or Jonathan and Frank and others died in vain.”
Sarah slumped in her chair. “I just want to protect my family. I heard about Frank’s death. They were saying something about drugs, and I know Frank would never —had no need—to be involved in drugs, so I figured they’re back.”
“What do you mean ‘they are back’?” asked David.
“I know Jonathan uncovered something big; he said so the last time he visited the West Coast in May of 2020. He stopped here on the way back. He didn’t tell me what it was; he knew it was dangerous. When Jonathan was killed, everyone assumed that the target was Williams, but I wasn’t so sure. Twice, I had different people come to talk to me about Jonathan and to see if I had anything from him, like e-mails with documents. And they always would show some official-looking badges, but I doubt they were all serving the US government. I didn’t have anything to give them in any case.”
“What about his things? Was there anything like a computer or a diary?”
“I never got any of his things. First I’d been told that they had to hold on to them because of the investigation, then I’d been told they were shipped to me, but nothing ever arrived.”
“Do you remember the investigators that came to talk to you?”
“There were two that came just a few days after September 10th, the day Jonathan was killed. They said they were from the FBI. I remember the one that did most of the questioning was called William. I don’t recall the last name. I think he left his card, but I don’t know where it is. Two others came a couple of weeks later. They flashed badges and said they were from some kind of intelligence organization, but I’m not sure that’s who they were.”
David sat back, dejected.
Sarah asked, “How did you know Frank?”
Maggie said, “He was a friend of my university advisor, UCLA economics professor James Bowen. James was killed, too.”
David continued. “Frank said he met Jonathan at Georgetown; Jonathan was his student. He told me that Jonathan loved you and Rachel. I think Frank was very fond of your brother.”
Sarah wiped her eyes with a handkerchief then asked, “Are you planning to see Rachel?”
David replied, “Probably.”
“Please don’t get her involved,” Sarah said. “Jonathan loved her very much. She was the daughter he never had. She does not know anything. I think Jonathan was protecting us by not letting us in on his work. Please, please, let her be.” She pulled out her phone and showed a photo of dark-haired girl with a contagious smile. “He would not have endangered her.”
“Was it your father’s death that moved Jonathan to leave the law firm and go to work for the government?” David asked.
“Is that what Frank told you? I think that was the trigger, not the cause. Jonathan wasn’t happy at the law firm. He was an idealist at heart, wanted to improve the world, but instead he was defending scoundrels. He was continuing out of inertia, not sleeping well, started drinking. When our father passed away, that shook Jonathan out of his routine.”
“And why did he go to work for the government rather than a nonprofit?”
“He spent years defending people that he thought were guilty of fraud and worse. He wanted to start putting them in jail instead. That’s where he thought he’d do the most good, where his expertise was.”
“Can you think of any people he was close with? Perhaps his ex-wife?”
“Definitely not Caroline. She wanted a hotshot lawyer who would parlay his work into a political career, so she could run a high-powered salon in Washington. They did not part well. There were two people he stayed friendly with through the years: Ben Kirsch and John Platt. He met Ben in high school, John in Georgetown. Last I recall, Ben was a schoolteacher in Brooklyn, and John was running an oil and gas company in Texas.”
“What about anyone from CFTC or SEC?”
“Frank was one, although Frank left SEC before Jonathan joined there. I don’t really know of anyone else. We had to move to Arizona eight years ago because of my husband’s health. After my parents passed away, there wasn’t enough to keep us on the East Coast anyway. So I don’t really know who Jonathan socialized with after we moved.” Sarah got up. “I have to go. I am sorry I couldn’t be of more help. I hope you stay safe.”
Friday, 4/29/2022, 11:15 a.m. MST
After Sarah left, Maggie asked, “What was that about their father?”
“I am sorry, I didn’t have a chance to brief you in on everything that Frank told us. Why don’t we order something to eat, and I’ll tell you what happened while you were locked up by Mr. Chao.” David recounted the meeting from last Sunday, particularly Frank’s story of his relationship with Jonathan, Androssian’s research, older Schulmann’s files that they had gotten from Fred Womack and that David used to arrange the fateful meeting with Hsu.
Maggie picked at her salad listlessly. “You went through a lot while I was kidnapped.”
David nodded. “This is the first time in a week that I’ve been able to go through the facts without being pressured by an emergency.”
Maggie agreed. “I can finally think about this without bein
g told what to do, without running, without expecting to be shot or strangled.” She hesitated and then asked, “David, do you think about the future? I had a future, and now it’s all up in the air.”
David lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry. No, I haven’t thought much about the future.”
“So, what do you plan to do when we find Schulmann’s files?”
“To be honest, I haven’t figured it out yet. I want to know the truth; I feel like I owe this to Frank and James and Megrano. And before we can decide what to do with the file, we should find it first, which is far from a given. What about you? What do you plan to do?”
“I think I will use it to get my life back. I liked what I did. I was getting close to my doctorate; I wanted to go into teaching. I’ve been pushed into this new identity and told that I have to do it in order to survive now. I get it. And it’s kind of exciting, kind of like playing a glamour role. And you are a really good guy and I could fall for you—don’t get scared, I said could, not will—but this is not me, and this life is not my life. So, I want to use Schulmann’s file to get it back.”
But that wasn’t all she was thinking. David is naïve and idealistic, bent on finding the truth for our fallen comrades. Probably just a hopeless quest. But then the alternatives don’t look great either, and perhaps his luck is changing.
Maggie somewhat irrationally believed in luck. And she felt indebted to this silly man who went to face a bunch of killers in order to save her. She, on the other hand, felt bad, especially about James, but they were gone and nothing would bring them back. She did not want the information for some abstract justice but to ensure Maggie Sappin’s safety. And maybe there would be some financial incentive as well.
“And how do you think you’ll do that?” David asked.
Maggie leaned back, arms folded across her chest. “You are the one who answered this question back at Miguel’s house. You said that one reason you wanted to know was because it put you in control, deciding whether to release it and when. Remember?”
“Yes, of course. But it does not answer the question.”
“In a sense, it does. If the people that want to kill us know that the information won’t get released if we are alive—but will get released if we are dead—we can go back to our lives and they won’t touch us.”
“And what about the police? They would want to know what happened. Megrano and Chander were investigating—”
“We tell them the truth, up to a point. Oleg helped us get away. We were frightened and left LA for a few days.”
“Shouldn’t we focus on finding Schulmann’s file first?”
She grew impatient. “I am focused on that. Don’t you see? We have to put ourselves into Schulmann’s shoes. He knew that what he was uncovering was dangerous. He must have made some arrangements to make sure his work wouldn’t be lost.”
“The files were not released after he died.”
“No, but his goal may have been different than just releasing them. Or whatever he put in place did not work. But we have to think like he must have been thinking two years ago. If you had the files and you wanted to make sure they get released if you die, what would you do?”
David nodded. “OK, you’re right. If I have the file and I want it released in case anything happens to me, I would hide it on a bunch of servers and set it to be sent to where I want it to be sent at a predetermined time. And I would periodically log in and move this time forward. If I die, the time is not moved forward, and the file gets released. I would also have a command set to have it released immediately, in case I decide to. That’s a greatly oversimplified picture, of course.”
“But what if your goal was to leave the file to someone else? Or you wanted to prevent them from getting to the file by torturing you? And remember, he was not a computer engineer like yourself.”
“I probably would make sure that someone I trust could also get access to the file.”
“But it wouldn’t be someone obvious, right?”
“No, it wouldn’t be. Are you saying that Jonathan was not likely to leave the file to Sarah or Rachel?”
“Would you leave the file to your family? I wouldn’t leave it to mine. That’s the first place they would look.”
“But you can leave it without them knowing, just with some clues?”
She dismissed it. “And then someone brilliant comes along to figure out the clues? That’s how they do it in the movies, but it never made much sense to me. If people who have the clue don’t know what the clue is, then that ‘someone brilliant’ can be an enemy just as likely as a friend. And possibly nobody will ever figure out the clue. I would not risk it.”
“So it’ll have to be somebody he trusts but not obvious, not a relative?”
“I think so. I thought the question you asked Sarah about his friends was a good one.”
“Ben Kirsch and John Platt? One a schoolteacher from New York, the other an oil executive from Texas. You know, the mention of Texas reminds me that Jonathan was killed while together with Mitchell Williams, the governor of Texas. We are chasing Jonathan’s file, but the whole world believes that Williams was the target.”
“What are you saying?”
David shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but I feel that this angle should be explored first. The answer may be in Texas. If John Platt is running an oil company, we should be able to find him easily.”
That was true. She was able to look up John Platt on her phone in the time that it took David to pay the bill. John Platt, CEO of privately held Southwest Oil and Gas, headquartered in Dallas. “We have to call him now,” she said.
“Why now?”
“It’s Friday. If we don’t get hold of him today, we have to either find his home number or wait until Monday.” She pressed the number on the screen of her phone.
“Hello? My name is Alena Brockman, I have to speak with Mr. Platt. It’s a personal issue. He is in a meeting? Yes, of course. Please tell him that I got his name from Sarah Kaufman, sister of Jonathan Schulmann. It’s S-c-h-u-l-m-a-n-n. My name is Brockman; my phone number is 424-555-1234. Thank you.”
“Do you think he’ll call back?”
“If he doesn’t, he’s probably not the right person for us to talk to.”
They got in the Jeep and started toward the Fairmont. Before they got to the hotel, Maggie’s phone rang. “Mr. Platt? Yes, it was Ms. Kaufman that gave us your name. We just met with her. We did get her name from Jonathan’s friend Frank Gorman… Yes, he is dead… It’s important as in ‘life and death’ important… 214-555-4321. We will call you from Dallas airport.” She turned to David. “He only agreed to meet with us because of Sarah. He said she would not have mentioned his name unless she thought we were telling the truth.”
Friday, 4/29/2022, 5:47 p.m. CDT
David moved his watch forward by two hours. He realized that this watch was just about the only thing he had left from his “old life” of just over a week back. Amusing how just this morning he was thinking of dropping this quest and disappearing with Maggie. Well, she sure set him straight. At least he didn’t share those thoughts with her.
They were coming in for a landing at Dallas – Fort Worth. David had never stayed in a Fairmont before and was pleasantly surprised with their service back in Phoenix. When they got to the hotel a bit past noon local time, he marched to the front desk and said that due to an emergency they had to go to Dallas. They had been immediately checked out and booked into a Fairmont in downtown Dallas, with flights and rental car arranged. By 12:35 they were set and driving to the airport. They barely managed to make it onto the flight. In some small measure, David was pleased that he was the one who handled the situation without leaving an opening for Maggie, who was chomping at the bit to take charge.
Fairmont’s service was good, but the flight was another story. Not only had the last minute tickets cost a fortune, but David also ended up in a middle seat and the person in the aisle seat on his left decided to wage a war over an armre
st. He kept trying to occupy most of the limited space and dislodge a small elbow bridgehead that David established. The person in front reclined her seat all the way, crushing David’s knees, while the person behind kept getting something out of the seat pocket and putting it back in, introducing yet another irritant into the experience. David found it hard to concentrate on reading, and with another person seated in their row he and Maggie could not openly discuss their plans.
In the midst of it all Maggie asked, “So what made you go into engineering?”
David thought about it for a minute. “I didn’t feel comfortable enough in social situations to go into sales or another field where I would have to interact with strangers. I think it was an old article that a high school science teacher recommended that made me want to become an engineer.”
“Why is that? What article?”
“I remember it well. It was written by Arthur Raymond from Douglas Aircraft and called, ‘The Well-tempered Aircraft.’ He described why the DC-3 became the first truly successful commercial aircraft by balancing different design elements. It talked about the need to see the problem as a whole, to see the elements in relation to each other in order to do a great design. That’s the beauty of good design, be it in airplanes, in architecture, or in consumer devices: to create a broader context, to think through the user experience and the manufacturing, to make it all come together. At that time Apple came out with their iPods. I loved using them and I thought that I’d also want to build ‘insanely great’ products. To me, good engineering is an art. Building something complex is not easy, but making it simple to use is what’s truly hard.”
“Did you get to build these ‘insanely great’ simple products?”
“I wish. Well, perhaps once. In my last year of college I wrote video-sharing software. I was really into it, working around the clock.”
“What happened?”
“It was in the spring of 2009, everything crashed and nobody would fund the project. It helped me get a job. I put the software into an open source library. Three years later another company built a similar product and ended up with a billion dollars valuation.”