by Marc Jedel
We sat on a bench at the top of the oval-shaped park. In front of us, several young kids ran back and forth on the grass in the afternoon sun while their parents watched and talked nearby. The burnt orange Tech Museum building and palm trees lining the roadway created an interesting backdrop for the kids. Pedestrians walked along the sidewalk while cars drove around the curving roads alongside the small city park. No one bothered us.
I looked at Sierra and smiled my best, fake agent smile. “Laney, I mean Ms. Tran, is out for a few days so I was told to double-check a few things. Perhaps you could give me a quick summary of what you told her and then I’ll see if there were any additional questions we had. Our boss wanted to make sure we had the facts straight. I do apologize for asking you to come down here again.”
“Again? I haven’t been here before. I just spoke to Ms. Tran on the phone.”
Oops. “Oh, of course, I meant to talk to the IRS again.”
She bought it. Sierra paused for a moment, hopefully, to gather her thoughts rather than call the cops. “Well, Ms. Tran said the IRS was doing a deep audit on David Saunders and Jean Rollag. She wanted to know if either of them had made any large purchases or suddenly had a lot of money during their last year at college. Something about checking possible discrepancies in their tax returns.”
I nodded encouragingly as if I already knew all of this, but Sierra refused to look at me.
“That was such a crazy year. They were working nonstop on DroneTech, finishing their classes, and meeting investors. Those VCs kept them hopping.”
I smiled as she mentioned the venture capitalists, or VCs. Perhaps I was right that they’d hired Laney to investigate Rollag.
Sierra continued, “I barely saw Jean or David our senior year. Maybe at a few parties they hit late.”
“Sure,” I said when she paused. I had no idea where this was headed. Had Laney been checking to see if something fishy happened in the early days of DroneTech? It wouldn’t be the first time. I remembered stories about the early days of internet startups. After a company hit the big-time, people would pop up with proof, sometimes real, sometimes fake, that they’d paid the founders and owned the rights to the resulting product, or had loaned them money and owned half the company. If I were a venture capitalist about to see billions, I’d want to know if any skeletons lurked in DroneTech’s closet too.
Sierra concluded, “I told her we hadn’t been very close in our senior year and I didn’t know anything about DroneTech.” She stopped and gave me a quick glance before looking away.
That’s it? Sierra seemed intensely uncomfortable. She was actually fidgeting on the bench. Unlike Raj, excessive caffeine didn’t seem to be the likely cause.
I gazed at her without speaking. After the silence grew uncomfortable, I asked, “Are you sure that’s it?” Proud of my superior interrogation technique, I didn’t say anything else as I looked at her.
Sierra fidgeted with her purse straps and looked around the park with jerky movements of her head. Letting out a long sigh, she finally spoke. “Well, I was … I mean, I really liked Jean once and … I’m not really sure if I should … I don’t know how to say this.”
I’d exhausted my supply of techniques so I merely nodded at her.
“It’s something I did and I know I shouldn’t have done it, but Jean was such a close friend. We’d dated a little off and on … before he took advantage of me.” Sierra trailed off.
I leaned forward, trying to show empathy using the lessons from a video I’d watched for work once. I hoped that would help me extract the story from her. Rollag was a scumbag, but I had no idea where this was going. “Go ahead. It’ll be okay. I’m sure we can work something out.” Yeah, I’m sure the IRS would approve an agreement she reached with a fake agent.
Taking a deep breath, Sierra blurted out, “I took a bribe from Jean when I was at Stanford and I didn’t report it to the IRS.”
Surprised, I jerked my head back. “A bribe? For what?”
With her pronouncement in the open, the rest of Sierra’s story spilled out. “I had a work-study job in Stanford’s Records Department. Mostly, I just did typing. You know, updating student records and the like. Jean did a semester abroad in Australia during our Junior year. I guess he just partied and didn’t go to class much.”
Sticking to my successful interrogation technique, I nodded again.
Sierra continued, “When we got back to school after Christmas, Jean got his grades. He’d failed or got incompletes on everything. He wasn’t going to graduate and he panicked. He and David had already started their company and the VCs liked the idea of two Stanford grads running the company. They thought it sounded like Google’s story. They used that to get other investors. Jean gave me $5,000 to change his grades to C’s.”
Her voice faltered. “I did it. I needed the money. I’m not proud of it. And I didn’t report it on my taxes.” With a small sniffle, she finished, “I don’t want to go to jail.” She slumped down on the bench.
Her revelation stumped me. Not sure what to do next, I looked around the park at the children playing while she collected herself. No IRS agents swooped in to pick me up. Although feeling a bit calmer, I didn’t want to go back into the IRS building. What if she wanted to file an official statement? I didn’t know how to end this interview without getting caught.
My phone rang. Skye was calling. I excused myself for a moment and answered.
“Uncle Marty?” Skye had a nervous tilt to her voice.
“Hi there. What’s going on?”
Skye answered in a rush. “We took the Rover car from school back to your apartment like you told me. But the building door won’t let us in and you didn’t give us a key.”
Oops. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” So much for my great parenting skills. “Use the intercom to call Mrs. Kim and ask her to let you into the building. You can sit outside my door and I’ll come home right away to get you girls into my apartment.”
I smiled to myself. This created no real hardship for the girls, yet it solved my problem with Sierra. I walked back to the bench where Sierra still sat silent, looking shell-shocked. Perhaps my superior interrogation skills had surprised her into revealing the bribe after all these years.
“I’m very sorry, but my, um, daughter lost her key and is locked out. I need to go let her in.”
This connected. Sierra looked up at me. “I understand. I have two kids myself. Will I need to come back again?”
I hope not. “I think we have all the information we need. Everything else is consistent with Ms. Tran’s summary. I appreciate you coming down here. We’ll call you if we have any further questions.”
“But, is anything going to happen to me?”
“I doubt it.” Truthfully, no idea. “But, I suspect since it was so long ago and so little that you may just have to pay a small penalty at most. I doubt it will lead to anything serious for you.”
Exhaling, Sierra gave me a wan smile and thanked me. I suppose there’s nothing like a fake IRS agent telling you not to worry about the consequences of taking an illegal bribe over a decade ago to set one’s mind at ease. She turned and walked back to where she must have parked.
While I waited for the Rover car, I decided to leave another voicemail for Mace. I’d made exciting progress in our investigation and needed to catch him up. Clearly, Rollag wanted to kill Laney so she couldn’t tell the VCs about the bribe. After I hung up, I realized my message to him might not have been as clear as I wanted. It’s not my fault it’s hard to explain why impersonating an IRS agent, possibly breaking federal consumer privacy laws, and prying into activities from nearly eleven years ago would help us solve Laney’s case. I put aside my doubts as I patted myself on the back for my progress. Mace did need a reliable sidekick for his burgeoning, if yet imaginary, movie career.
Then it dawned on me that Sierra could simply tell her story again. Sierra might be Rollag’s next victim and I’d let her go without a warning. I called Mace again.
<
br /> 10
Wednesday Late Afternoon
I rushed home. Ok, the Rover car drove home at its normal, careful pace. For times like this, we needed a special emergency mode that would make the car drive more aggressively. Maybe I could talk to marketing about a new feature. They’d probably call it something silly like “Mush.” Of course, everyone would use the feature all the time. Our lawyers would probably not like that. I wonder if we could build it as a special test capability and just keep the feature for the engineering team. We’d leave it in perpetual test mode. Our lawyers probably wouldn’t like that either. Sigh.
When I got into my apartment building, I didn’t see the girls in the lobby or hallway. I walked to Mrs. Kim’s apartment and knocked on her door. Uncharacteristically, I had to wait for her to answer.
After a few moments, she opened the door. “Hello, Mr. Marty.”
I saw the girls in the room behind her. “Thank you so much for letting the girls in. I didn’t mean for you to keep them in your apartment. That was very nice of you.”
“No problem. They are pleasure. Come in please.”
I walked into her apartment, past a tall stool standing right by the side of the door. The place felt warmer and cozier than mine, even though they’d been built at the same time. The wooden furniture wasn’t antique but had experienced a well-lived life. Against the wall rested a bamboo bookshelf filled with various knickknacks, photos, and books. Small lamps sat on side tables next to chairs scattered through the room. Several simple, stylized nature paintings hung on her walls. Although our taste in art didn’t match, the paintings complemented her room well.
Both girls sat calmly at a dining table doing homework. They each had a teacup and what looked like a Korean honey sesame cookie by their side. A third teacup and cookie sat on the table by an empty chair. Mrs. Kim had things under control. The girls looked up as I entered and smiled hello, clearly feeling at ease in the comfortable setting.
Skye asked, “Can we go see Mom now?”
“The hospital said they’re not allowing visitors until after —”
“What? You promised.” Megan’s frown threatened to break into tears.
“It’s not us. They’re not allowing anyone now. We’ll go after dinner.”
Recovering, Megan said, “Then, can we stay here longer? Mrs. Kim is really nice and she has tea.”
“I’ve got tea —”
“Then can we talk to Mom on the phone?” Skye wasn’t so easily distracted.
Reasonable. “Let’s call from my apartment. I’m sure Mrs. Kim will let you bring your tea back to my apartment.” I looked up to see Mrs. Kim nod. “We’ll return her cups later. Let’s go.”
“The girls are pleasure. They come any time,” said Mrs. Kim.
“Thank you.”
Ever gracious, she asked me, “Would you like tea and cookies too?”
“No, thank you.” But then the proverbial light bulb turned on in my head. “Actually, would you be okay having the girls stay with you after school for the rest of this week, just until I get home from work?”
“And we’d get more tea? And cookies?” Megan jumped in, her excitement growing.
“That is pleasure,” Mrs. Kim answered both of us. She poured a little more tea into Megan’s cup.
While they balanced their teacups and cookies, I took the girls’ backpacks. Together, we made our way down the hall to my apartment. As I entered my apartment, now looking sterile by comparison, my phone’s alarm reminded me to have the groceries delivered. I signaled the service to deliver them right away.
I hoped Laney was doing better now than she had looked yesterday. Sitting on the couch, I called the hospital. The girls gathered in front of me, now tense with anticipation. A nurse answered the phone in Laney’s room and told me that Laney could talk only for a few minutes before she needed to rest some more. I put the phone on speaker and the girls burst out, at the same time, with pent-up excitement and concern. The girls’ animated voices echoed through the room as they took turns asking Laney questions and giving her updates on their day. Laney responded with only a few brief comments. She sounded tired yet upbeat. Long before any of us were ready to stop talking, the nurse took back the phone and told us Laney needed to rest. After the love and energy expressed by the girls, I needed to rest too.
The girls, cheered by talking to their mother, took their conversation to the kitchen table with the intent of finishing their snacks and homework. With their minds still on their mom, I doubted their homework got their full attention.
I went into my home office and shut the door behind me. It was time to confront Rollag, at least virtually. I could be a lot braver over the phone than in person. If Rollag knew his secret bribe was out in the open, then he wouldn’t need to kill Laney to keep her quiet. Although, he wouldn’t be thrilled to learn his ex-girlfriend Sierra had spilled the beans.
I called Rollag’s cell from Laney’s contacts. It rang just once before his voicemail answered. I hung up without leaving a message. After all, this hadn’t been my best week for voicemail clarity.
Although my idea to confront Rollag had stalled, I was still convinced he’d manipulated the drone to attack Laney. Maybe she’d also learned his Stanford secret and had told him, or she’d damaged his ego by spurning his unwanted advances. Who knew? Any of those could have been his motivation to try to kill her. The killer was Mr. Rollag, from the air, with a drone.
Rollag had the skills and DroneTech software powered most of the delivery drones in the country. If Raj and I could add special features into the Rover service at will, I figured that Rollag, or one of his engineering lackeys, could do the same to a drone. If I couldn’t get Rollag to talk to me, I’d have to find someone else at DroneTech who would.
Daniel Pope would have to be my ticket into DroneTech. I’d worked in the cube next to Daniel for several years in a previous startup. We’d gotten along well, at first. He had an annoying habit of giving unsolicited life improvement tips to everyone. As a result of his holier-than-thou approach to life, most people in the office avoided him. He seemed like a lonely person. After my divorce, I knew what it was like to be on your own. In a rare moment of inexplicable generosity of spirit, I’d invited him to my monthly poker night.
I wasn’t even sure how the monthly poker night with my friends had started. It was probably something my wife made me do years ago, and one of her few good ideas at that. Well, besides my two kids. Calling the poker group my friends overstated things — perhaps friendly acquaintances were more accurate. We met only on rare occasion outside of our monthly game.
In an experience the group still hasn’t let me forget, we held the shortest poker night in history. Daniel walked in, twenty minutes late. To a poker game! From that point on, he spouted off a continual stream of advice on everything from hygiene, etiquette, nutrition, and fashion. When he moved to skincare, the game broke up. That experience helped to contain any urges I’ve had since for random acts of generosity.
Soon after that night, Daniel left to join DroneTech, a new startup at the time. Although we hadn’t seen each other in a few years, he nonetheless sustained a steady stream of emails to me containing self-improvement articles. They went straight to my spam folder but I hadn’t removed him from my contacts. After all, he worked at DroneTech. I’m not stupid. Knowing I’d regret this later, I texted Daniel to see if he could meet for lunch tomorrow.
I sat back, feeling unsatisfied. Mace hadn’t returned my many calls. I couldn’t reach Rollag to confront him and I had no proof of Rollag’s guilt anyway, beyond my gut. Laney would be in danger again once the hospital started allowing visitors later today.
Although I couldn’t do anything else about Rollag for now, I wanted to do more on her case. In the time left this afternoon before we could visit Laney, I’d eliminate her other clients from the suspect list. Mace would expect nothing less from his partner when he got back from his furlough and checked his voicemails. Yeah, right. His par
tner.
Pulling out Laney’s computer, I wanted to take a look at her other clients in more detail. Working from my home office meant I had more time to look through her files without the possibility of my boss walking by. This wouldn’t win me any employee-of-the-month awards, but we didn’t have those at Rover. Rummaging through Laney’s personal files might not win me the brother-of-the-year award either. On the other hand, I’ve never seen any of those in stores.
Her calendar listed a meeting with Fernando Hernandez scheduled for this past Monday morning at nine. A phone number was listed underneath, but I wanted to do a little more research before calling him. The IRS angle had worked once, but I couldn’t expect my luck to hold.
I looked through Laney’s files on her computer. She had a few documents about some of her clients, but her files didn’t mention Fernando. My forensic investigation techniques exhausted, I sat back baffled.
As I was pondering, Raj called me. When I answered, he sounded odd, more stilted than normal and he had me on speaker. “Hello, Marty. This is Raj. I am checking if your field test has repeated the bug we found?”
Huh? Then I realized what must be happening. “Not yet. I think I got close. I’m going to try a few more things. Could you let the boss know that I probably won’t be back until the morning so I can fix this bug once and for all?”
“Yes. Certainly. He is standing right here. Next to me. I am putting in the updates we discussed now. See you tomorrow.” He hung up abruptly without waiting for my response.
Raj was a stand-up guy.
A minute later my phone rang again. “Hello. He is gone,” said Raj.
“What happened?”
“I do not know. He is in bad mood. Stomping around and asking everyone what they are doing. I told him I am working to fix bugs. Then he wants to know where Marty is. I tell him we work together to fix bugs. He wants me to call you for update. So, I call.”