DevilMan696 > No, man. Information. Fingers said you were into that shit.
Cryptic1 > Yeah. Of course. Just wanted to be clear, since I'll be filling a new drive.
DevilMan696 >Pics and vids don't lag, so I'm cool on that front. I'll send the link. Ping me if you find anything.
Cryptic1 >Sure. Thx. I owe u 1
Gary received the link, copy/pasted it in another window as DevilMan left the chat. Just as he'd been warned, the portal opened to a directory listing vids, pics, and info, each with its own plethora of subdirectories. The vids and pics directories opened without a hitch, and Gary opened files at random. Sick shit opened on his screen as he did so. Ritualistic rape, torture, and bloody murder. He couldn't believe his eyes. His stomach threatened to flip and he regretted eating the microwave meatloaf dinner he'd finished an hour earlier.
DevilMan had been correct. Once Gary entered the info subdirectory it was like his gigabit fiber connection became a 1200 bps modem waiting to connect with a WWIV bulletin board or something. Gary clicked the link to subdirectory a and a series of subdirectories slowly began to fill a web browser:
English
French
Greek
Latin...
Gary clicked the Latin link and the following slowly filled the window:
Arcane Duritiam Incantatorum Tuorum Vehementem
Arcane Habentis Maleficia
Arcanum Mortis
Arcane Magia
Arcane Torture…
Gary climbed the directory tree back to the parent and randomly clicked l
Libro Daemones
Libro Dolor
Libro Horror
Libro Veneficas
The list of subdirectories updated at a snail's pace. Again at random, Gary clicked the hyperlinked Libro Daemones which caused the browser screen to freeze and the mouse pointer to spin. Gary slurped from a bottle of Surge as he waited for the page to update but, just as DevilMan had warned, the book (face it, each subdirectory must represent a book) refused to be opened.
“I've got all the time in the world,” Gary told the screen. He'd wait for the screen to update, and if it didn't, he'd try another subdirectory in a few minutes. If that too refused to open, he'd write a shell script to access each and every subdirectory. Sooner or later he'd receive access and download the contents within.
Gary Dowdy went in the kitchen as he waited. He popped a handful of Plain M&M's candies into his mouth, washed them down with Surge and checked the dating site with his phone before escaping out of the waiting loop in the browser window and backtracking up the directory to the parent info subdirectory where he opened the one and only file there, a TXT or text file. It read simply:
DO NOT ENTER
Contained within is text and images of an occult nature.
Should you choose to ignore this warning be advised that
failure to proceed with extreme caution and forethought
(i.e. playing with demon's fire)
is likely to get you burned at the very least,
and your soul eternally burned at the most.
KaosKansas.com
Amusing stuff, Gary thought. He closed the file and randomly clicked c. It too froze, and so he opened pics in another window and vids in yet another window. They opened lightning quick and he started a video at random within its a subdirectory as he opened still another window, this one on his second video monitor, to lookup ChaosKansas.com's registry information. He wanted to see what he could learn about the owner of the domain.
Gary didn't learn much, except that the domain had been registered to one Joshua Elliot in Austin, Texas. It listed Frank Johnson in Kansas as it's contact.
Gary Dowdy, not quite sure what to make of all this, tried dialing the contact number just to see if Frank Johnson answered the call, and if so, what he might learn. He'd claim an interest in purchasing the domain of KaosKansas.com just for shits and giggles, see what the guy said. But nobody at the number answered, and when he was unsuccessful in accessing any info subdirectories Gary grew impatient. He'd need to write that shell script after all, although he really didn't want to. Not yet. Perhaps he'd get in if he tried again later. Besides, there was a sci-fifantasy convention being held in Kansas City next month that he'd been considering attending – he always attended similar conventions in Denver – and a side trip to find the whereabouts of KaosKansas.com might be interesting. If nothing else it would give Gary an excuse to attend the convention. Now if he could get Gene, his buddy and fellow co-worker to attend with him... Gary pulled out his phone and texted Gene as his cursor frustratingly spun in circles.
16
“Sir, you've received signed contracts and non-disclosure agreements from,” Katie glanced at her portfolio notebook, “Derek Smith, Denzel Watkins, Joseph Kincaid, and, of course, myself.”
Four of six hired employees. Within the next few minutes Brant hoped to begin interviewing the fifth. They'd flown, Katie and himself, to Albuquerque, New Mexico, last night, and driven in a rented car to Santa Fe where they rented a suite at the Hilton. A dozen candidates had been scheduled for interviews within the suite, beginning at 8:00 AM. They had just finished a 1:00 PM lunch break.
“Great job,” Brant told his daughter. He knew she, and her generation in general, thrived on praise, and besides she was doing a splendid job as his personal assistant. She had even convinced Jenna to check the fax machine back home, otherwise she wouldn't have had the updated information she'd just provided.
“I'll refill the ice bucket,” Katie said. “Need anything?”
“I'm fine, thanks.”
“Be right back.”
She headed out of the suite, dressed in business attire. She'd even let down her gothic pigtail to let her long, straight hair cascade over her shoulders.
Brant sat perusing notes provided by the private detective when a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” he said.
The woman who entered was named Tara Jones, of Santa Fe, New Mexico. She was the reason Brant Wilson had arranged today's interviews to take place here. She was dressed conservatively, in a pant suit. Brant, after greeting her, gestured to a chair opposite his at a small table and said, “Please, sit.”
“Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet with you today.”
A pleasure? She knew little of Brant, unless she followed the goings-on within the CPU or related processing/audio/video chipset industry. She, on the other hand, filled out the pinstriped suit jacket she wore and stretched the boundaries – albeit in a graceful way – of her dark slacks. A slight hint of pleasant perfume teased the senses. He loved the way her dark tresses brushed padded shoulders. “The pleasure is all mine,” Brant said. “So, tell me, why do you wish to work for me? It's a great opportunity, sure. If I didn't believe so I wouldn't be here. Be that as it may, I realize, from your point of view, this is just some small start-up venture.”
“What can I say? I need a job and you're offering one.”
“Blunt and to the point. I can totally relate.”
“It's much more than that, though,” Jones said.
“Feel free to elaborate.”
“Your advertisement, as hokey as it might sound, spoke to me. 'Ground floor of the future’s most influential company, we seek the most driven, most focused applicants in the business world to create a computer network without rival. Only serious applicants need apply.' I'm very serious about this position,” Ms. Tara Jones said.
Position. Interesting word, considering the information the private investigator had dug up. Apparently, Tara Jones had worked her way through college as a stripper, but not any run of the mill stripper. The sort of stripper who would bounce on your crotch for an hour, given the right sum of money. Which prompted Brant to reply with a knowing expression on his face:
“I’m aware of your work history and I’m here today because I believe you just might be the go-getter I’m looking for. But I must warn you. When the worl
d is what you're playing for, rules don't necessarily apply, as you’re undoubtedly aware.”
“Rules, schmules,” Tara replied.
“So, I see you worked as a Business Analyst at a local healthcare organization, as well as serving a brief stint at an Internet company called CrowdExcite. Why would I want to hire you?”
“Well,” Jones said. Before she could elaborate, Katie reappeared with the bucket of ice. She placed it out of the way and offered bottles of water, juice, and cola before excusing herself. Then Tara Jones went on to explain all her qualifications within the business world. Brant and she exchanged questions and answers, each reinforcing his desire to offer her employment despite her brief business career after earning a Bachelor’s degree in Business Administration at University of New Mexico. She pled a strong case, one Brant Wilson couldn't dispute, until, eventually, he said, “It's been a pleasure, and you're obviously qualified, Ms. Jones. However, our time is growing short and I've other applicants scheduled to interview.”
Tara reached to shake Brant's hand; the handshake lingered as she repeated his words, “Rules don't necessarily apply. You said so yourself. You've no idea how badly I want, I need, this job.”
“You might be surprised,” Brant said.
“I'm well-qualified and I guarantee you no one will work as hard for you as I will.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. I'm willing to go above and beyond.”
“Above and beyond.” Brant let the thought linger, as if considering its implications.
“Must I convince you to offer me the job?”
“Let's assume you must.”
Tara Jones, reaching for Brant's crotch, said, “I'd never do this unless I was qualified and desperate...”
“I understand.”
“But I'll do any and everything to secure this position. We are, after all, in a hotel suite.”
“Indeed, we are. No offense, but did you notice, really notice, my assistant when she came in?” Rhetorical question. “My client – and we all account to someone, don't we? – my client appreciates your gesture, I'm sure. Which, by default, I do, too. However – again, no offense – but I'm simply not interested in your advance. Although I suspect other candidates may be. In fact, I'm sure many will when you make them the same offer.”
Ms. Jones cocked her head with a grin. “I believe I follow, but just to be certain...”
“I'm aware of your background, as well as your qualifications, Ms. Tara Jones. I'd like to test your commitment to me, by also testing your previous offer by extending it to the remaining candidates.”
“Now I'm not sure I understand.”
“In other words, I want you to interview the remaining candidates for me, and any you deem worthy of the position, you extend the same offer you extended to me. Instead of fucking me for the job,” Brant said, “I want you to fuck each worthy candidate. Afterwards, you can summarize their skills to me. So tell me, Ms. Jones are you still interested in this position?”
Tara's eyes glided over Brant. “I must admit, I'm slightly disappointed. But...”
“But what?”
“But I've yet to see the other applicants.”
Brant smirked as he pulled his smart phone to glance at the time. “I like your enthusiasm,” he said. “Next applicant should be here any minute. Until then, are you sure you wouldn't like something to drink?”
“On second thought, yes, I'd like a water and I'll get it myself, thank you.”
Just outside the door, in the hallway with Katie, stood an overweight middle-aged man in a suit and glasses.
“Mr. Roberts, I presume?” Brant said.
“That's correct,” the next applicant said, extending a hand. “You must be Mr. Brant Wil—”
“Give her hell, slugger,” Brant said as he clapped the man's shoulder before turning to his daughter. “Katie, we have some time to kill.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Roberts went into the suite and Brant and his assistant went downstairs to the lobby.
“How was the interview?” Katie asked.
“It went well. I believe Tara Jones would make a nice fit. We'll know by the end of the day.”
“Your hiring process is quick. I like that.”
“Quick and thorough. After all, I screened each applicant with a brief phone interview and had their backgrounds checked. Once I've met them and learned their qualifications, why waste time?”
“You're so smart.”
Brant scanned the lobby out of habit.
“Do you feel like you're being watched?” Katie said.
“No. Why?”
“I do. Especially at home, and some while we were in Kansas.”
Of course she'd feel that way at home, with Suvos watching them. Had Kasas been watching in Kansas? “Frank” certainly had. If not initially, later when he edited their video files. Katie had joined Brant on a Kansas trip to install the add-on cards. They'd stayed there for a week, cutting things short since they'd experienced no problems with the card outside of an initial driver issue the first day.
“That guy in Kansas,” Katie elaborated, “he was creepy.”
“You enjoyed making the videos, though, didn't you?”
“Of course...” Katie lowered her voice, “Daddy. I enjoyed you fucking me in the little girl's room.”
Yes, that had been fun. Of course they'd done it on each set and digitized the encounters for transfer to a file server. Frank had taken care of that. Brant had found the goings-on on Level 6 equally interesting, though Katie hadn't accompanied him there. She'd instead been sent on errands or, later in the week, given afternoons to do with as she chose. She'd opted to go sightseeing and shopping.
“But this is fun, too,” Katie said. “Are we really going to build a big computer network like Google or Yahoo!?”
“Yahoo!? Are you kidding? Yahoo! is nothing. Google, on the other hand, yes. Similar, yet different.”
“I don't follow.”
“Let's see.. How should I explain... We're going to create a distributed network of computers out of commodity parts running our own tweaked versions of Open Source Software. There will be five computing sites: Austin, Texas; Memphis, Tennessee; Santa Fe, New Mexico; Des Moines, Iowa; and some rinky-dink town in Bum Fuck, Nebraska.”
“Bum Fuck, Nebraska?”
“I have my reasons. Anyway, once I've hired my core team, each will assemble their own team.”
“Wow. I didn't realize we were doing all this.”
“We are, sweetie. You and me and five others.”
Katie riffled through the information in her portfolio, thinking aloud as she did so: “Tara Jones, Business Analyst, or whoever you end up hiring. And I'm your personal assistant...”
“Executive assistant now. As things grow, you'll need a team of girls of your own.”
“Cool. Let's see, there is also Derek Smith.”
“Open Source Software developer. He's the guy who'll tweak our software.”
“Joseph Kincaid in Des Moines.”
“Joey is our Bastard Operator From Hell.”
Katie grinned. “What?”
“Bastard Operator From Hell. That's his job title. It's taken from a satire about a network administrator who did what he wanted, how he wanted, whatever it took to keep things running smoothly. Joey's a cool kid, you met him. Really knows his business. He's the kind of guy we need working for us.”
“Yes, Sir. What about Denzel Watkins from Memphis? What's he do?”
“Denny also has a very important role. Since we'll be dealing with a lot of information – and I mean a lot – we need an expert DBA. That's database administrator.”
Brant briefly reflected on the ulterior reasons for hiring each individual, reasons Katie didn't need to know:
Derek knew his way around code, and around a barnyard and bath house with his sexual proclivities
Denny had lived life in New Orleans around voodoo before being driven north by Hurricane Katrina
“It's a great team, Sir. That just leaves one position yet to fill.”
“That's correct. Security Officer. There are a few candidates I've lined up for interviews next week in Austin.”
“No more travel for a while?”
“Not for a while, sweetie.”
“Goody. I like being at home. Except for the creepy feeling of being watched.”
“Just think of it like this: When you're with me, you are performing for an audience.”
“Ooh. I like that.”
“I thought you might.”
Their conversation turned toward the house, and Brant's plans for it and what he needed Katie to do when they returned home. Then Brant decided he should return to the suite for his notebook computer. He wanted to check on-line for more Security Officer applicants. On his way upstairs he passed Mr. Roberts, the most recent applicant for Business Analyst, in the hall. The man's face appeared flushed and content. A tie hung loosely around his neck.
Brant brushed past him and darted into the suite. Inside he found Tara Jones interviewing a large black man.
“Housekeeping,” Brant quipped. “Sorry to interrupt. Forgot to steal the computer.”
He dashed back out of the room carrying the notebook and a bottle of water.
17
Katie sneezed again.
“Bless you,” Brant said.
“As much as I've been sneezing, I must be the most blessed girl in the world. Or cursed.”
“Cursed?”
“All these creepy books. Musty old things, cursing me to sneeze. I can't believe this is the last one. ”
“There are a lot. Thanks for helping me unpack them all.”
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