Deadly Conception

by Patrick Blake

  His smile faded, and he immediately regretted his outburst. “No…no…come on. Let’s work this out. It’s just a test.”

  “Think about it. That flare-up just now? Not good. You’re off the chain. Take care of yourself. Talk with your lawyer. Use the next two weeks to work some stuff out. You have a lot going on. Don’t put your job in jeopardy.” He held up a hand as Raimy started to speak. “I’m serious. I’m not just doing what’s best for the Office; I’m doing what’s right for you.”

  “Damn. This is a mistake.”

  “Sorry buddy…but, no. We’re backlogged. I have a conference coming up. I don’t want to lose you, but this isn’t a research lab. I won’t indulge any wild goose chases. Now drop it and let’s go. I owe you a drink. I’m driving.”

  “I saw what I saw, Arvind. I saw what I saw.”

  Chapter 10 – Wednesday, July 25 (New York City)

  “Mr. Sweeney? Oliver Berryman, your accountant, is here to see you.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be right out.” Gabriel hung up his desk phone and trotted out to reception.

  “Good morning, Mr. Berryman. Thank you for coming over.”

  “My pleasure, Mr. Sweeney.”

  “Come with me. We can talk in my office.”

  Gabriel led the hunched, aging man to his office.

  “Have a seat. Mr. Berryman. May I get you water or coffee?” Gabriel asked.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Okay...and thank you for your discretion at reception.”

  “I understand, Mr. Sweeney. No need to cause excess speculation. I know the IRS doesn’t have the best reputation, but we are not evil.”

  “I’m counting on that.”

  IRS Agent Berryman spent the next hour discussing the outstanding debts, taxes, penalties, and interest due from Gabriel’s shuttered company. It didn’t matter that Jacob Carniss had deserted his responsibilities. It only mattered that Gabriel held the fiduciary responsibility to clean up the mess.

  “What are my options, Agent Berryman?”

  “Mr. Sweeney, this is the unpleasant part. You don’t qualify for our Offer-In-Compromise program. That’s when you settle with us for less than what is owed.”

  “Dead ass! Why not?”

  “Well, it’s because you have the ability to pay.”

  “What? I’m drowning in debt. How do you figure I can pay?”

  “Mr. Sweeney, you have equity in your home. You have savings. You have business income, clients, accounts payable, and so on. You may not be able to pay it all at once…but based on your income history and current assets…you can fulfill your responsibility.”

  “You can take my condo…attach my salary…seize my assets?”

  “We hope it doesn’t come to that, of course”

  “Oh my, God. I can’t believe this.”

  “Mr. Sweeney, please don’t get excited. I recommend you settle your debts using a partial payment installment agreement. You make monthly payments to settle the debt.”

  “I owe nearly $400 grand. What kind of installment plan were you thinking?” asked Gabriel as he swigged a mouthful of coffee.

  “Between $30,000 and $35,000 per month. The IRS wants this settled within 12 months or so.”

  Gabriel literally choked on his coffee. He snorted some of the hot beverage through his nostrils, inadvertently sprayed Agent Berryman in the face, and then fell into a loud coughing jag.

  “Mr. Sweeney…Mr. Sweeney…are you okay? Let me get your receptionist. I’ll get some water.”

  “No…no…please…no. I’ll be okay,” Gabriel implored as he struggled to control his cough. “I’ll be fine…I’m sorry. Here…here…tissue. I’m so sorry.”

  “Are you sure, sir?”

  Gabriel regained his composure. “Yeah. Sure thing Agent Berryman. I just wasn’t expecting such a high, monthly number.”

  “I apologize, sir. I should have been more, erm, delicate,” he said and wiped coffee spittle from his face.

  “No…no…don’t sweat it. There’s no way you could have made it delicate. So, lemme get this straight. I gotta pay 30 grand a month…”

  “At least, yes,” corrected the IRS agent.

  “…right…at least…or the government will put a lien on my condo and a levy on my business assets. Correct?”

  “If necessary, yessir.”

  “And the first step is to file…or I could face tax evasion charges, correct?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Provided I file everything by the end of August…that’s a little more than 30 days from now…when would the first payment be due?”

  “I am sorry, Mr. Sweeney, but I’m afraid we need the first installment in ten days. But you can certainly take until the end of August to file the forms.”

  “I see. Why don’t we switch that around? I’ll file in ten days…and make the first payment in 30.”

  “Ah…Mr. Sweeney. You’re a fun case…and quite clever…I like that you have a sense of humor.” Agent Berryman chuckled.

  “Um, I wasn’t kidding.”

  “No? Oh…excuse me. No. There is no switch-a-roo. Thank you, Mr. Sweeney. Here is my card. Let me know how you plan to proceed. I’ll need to know your decision, in writing, by the end of the day. Email is sufficient. I really must go now,” he said, and rose to leave.

  Gabriel walked the man out. He noticed a wicked smile crossed Berryman’s lips and a little more jump in the codger’s step. No…the IRS isn’t evil…but I think this agent may be a little sadistic.

  He returned to his desk and tapped a quick note to Cody.

  Met with IRS. I need $30K in 10 days…on top of the $6K to make payroll in 9 days. Kill me now.

  Gabriel started his laptop, opened the spreadsheet with his new business pipeline, and stared at the four hot prospects. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer, “I’m in the finals for all of these. I just need one to come through now…just one…please.”

  He opened his eyes when he heard the pizzicato, two-note email notification. The message was from his contact at Citibank, one of the pending proposals. Gabriel eagerly read the short memo.

  “Dammit!” He cursed out loud.

  Assholes, he thought. They invited me in because they wanted a boutique firm and not some mega-PR firm. But now they say my firm is too small? This is such BS.

  A couple of hours later, Gabriel’s smartphone trilled.

  “This is Gabriel.”

  “Gabriel, hey, it’s Beth Swasey. How are you?”

  “Pretty well. You? How’s life at Hospira? Are you and your Pfizer overlords ready to let me help you all protect your infusion therapy patents?”

  “Gabriel, this is not going to be a fun call. I have bad news.”

  “Oh, shit, Liz. You said this was a lock. I need this. You know I can help you guys.”

  “I know, Gabriel. I know. Listen up. I found out from the Hospira procurement director that you were the first choice…until word came down that GSE was no longer in business.”

  “What the…Jesus. Beth, that’s bull.”

  “I know. It was a from-the-top decision. Procurement was eliminated from the award process. You got screwed.”

  “Who got the account, Liz? Who won?”

  “You didn’t hear it from me, got that? You. Did. Not. Hear. It. From. Me. The contract went to your former employer.”

  “Bastards. This is Bert Jivons’ handy work. That SOB is bad-mouthing me after I made his firm millions. Dammit. Goddammit to hell.”

  “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I hate telling you. You’ll probably get an email by end of day or tomorrow. But it’s official. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks, Beth. I’ll be okay. Thanks for the heads-up. If you see Bert on the subway platform then go ahead and push him in front of the double-L crosstown train.” He clicked off the call.

  Rejection was normal in the PR business, and so was back-stabbing. But defamation crossed the line. Gabriel seethed, and contemplated a lawsuit against his old boss.
But he knew proving it would be difficult, the reputational fallout would be worse, and he didn’t have the anything close to the cash needed to retain legal counsel.

  Two down…two to go, he thought.

  The Corn Growers backed out next. They had the lamest excuse. Gabriel’s contact texted him at the end of the day. The official thanks-but-no-thanks form letter would come by email, but the unofficial text provided the real reason: “Too controversial.”

  Jesus. They want reputation management for their corn syrup…and I’m too controversial. Ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black. Three down…one left. I need a break…and a drink.

  Gabriel left the office and walked over to PJ Clarks for happy hour. The irony made him chuckle despite his miserable mood.

  Chapter 11 – Friday, July 27 (Metropolitan DC)

  “Good morning, sir. Welcome to Pilgrim Trust Bank.”

  Gabriel flashed his best smile for the eye-catching receptionist stationed behind a custom Parnian reception desk, “Good morning to you, too. I’m Gabriel Sweeney. I have an appointment with Mr. Asrani Patel.”

  “Of course, Mr. Sweeney. We’ve been expecting you. Please have a seat and I’ll have Mr. Patel’s executive assistant retrieve you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Gabriel easily settled in on the elegant, yet austere, Mogens Koch designed sofa. It felt great compared to the worn-out airline seat he occupied during his flight from New York City to Washington, DC.

  Gabriel’s eyes followed the stylish young woman’s purposeful exit. She walks like a predator. Smiling to himself, Gabriel pushed his thoughts to the business at hand. Don’t blow this. It was just 48 hours ago you were in the weeds.

  Asrani Patel, the CEO of Pilgrim Trust Bank, sent an email a day earlier approving Gabriel’s proposal to represent all of the growing financial institution’s external communications, marketing, reputation management, and media training. The multi-year contract was worth nearly a hundred thousand dollars a month and stood a good chance to grow if the bank’s board of directors agreed to Asrani’s plan to expand bank operations into nine more cities.

  The only hitch was that GSE needed to move very fast.

  Gabriel spent all day working with Cody to finalize the client agreement. He briefed his staff, prepared the usual on-boarding meetings with the bank’s internal communications team, and spent two hours on the phone with Asrani shaping the agenda for the first in-person meeting between the two men since Gabriel’s presentation several weeks ago.

  “Mr. Sweeney?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Riya Reddy, Mr. Patel’s executive assistant. Please follow me. I’ll take you to Mr. Patel’s office.”

  Chapter 12

  Asrani Patel’s office matched the man perfectly. Elegant, modern, with hat tips to the classics. The desk, sideboard, and bookcase for the CEO of the fastest growing bank in the United States was were all by Taiko, a recent collection from the Italian furniture design shop, Ultom.

  Sheesh. I wish I had this in my office.

  “Mr. Sweeney, it’s such a pleasure to meet you again. Thank you for flying down for our meeting. I apologize if I’ve kept you waiting.”

  Asrani Patel stood six feet tall, a couple of inches taller than Gabriel. The 40-something bank CEO was trim, fit, with a full head of thick, black, neatly cut hair. His mid-length sideburns were graying, yet looked dynamic against his deep, olive brown skin. He wasn’t model-handsome, but he was striking. The two men shook hands.

  “Mr. Patel, the pleasure is all mine. Call me Gabriel.”

  “Of course, Gabriel. Please have a seat. We have a lot to talk about. And please call me Asrani.”

  The two men sat together at the round teaming table and for the next 90 minutes they reviewed start up timing, meeting requirements, and communications personnel needed to coordinate internal and external outreach, digital and traditional media relations, government affairs, and crisis response planning.

  “Asrani, I’ll consolidate all this when I return to New York and then send you a clean version to approve. The document will include a written schedule, goals for the meetings with a matched agenda, the required personnel from each of our offices for in-person attendance or conferencing in, and prospective task assignments for each attendee. I’ll make a recommendation from my team to manage task completion. I think you should provide a counterpart.”

  “Good. I’ll ask Riya to make some suggestions, she’s good at matching people types.”

  “Okay. I think that wraps it up. Except for the retainer.” Gabriel kept his voice casual as he collected his notes. “Do you have a check, or would you prefer to make a wire transfer?”

  Asrani leaned back, pulled an envelope from his inside jacket pocket, and handed it over.

  “Thank you, Asrani. Very much.”

  “Gabriel, there’s something else I need. It’s out of scope, so, of course I’ll pay the additional fees.”

  “Okay. What’s up?”

  “You know I’ve been planning to expand Pilgrim Trust’s U.S. footprint from our McLean, Virginia and Boston, Massachusetts offices to nine other cities.”

  “Yeah. Very exciting stuff.”

  “It is. And I’m close to getting full approval.”

  “Okay.”

  “The board of directors and our leading investors want me to pressure test our data security capabilities. They want reassurance that our security is first-rate, especially after the Boston robbery at The Beacon Hill Bank last month. Plus, the data breaches at Target, Anthem, MasterCard, and Experian during the past few years.”

  Gabriel was excited at the prospect of more business. “My firm can do it. Security assessment, vulnerability probes, network security scans, penetration testing, social engineering assessment, remediation consulting. We’ve done these before. Those clients are confidential, of course, but I can contact a few of them if you need to verify our abilities.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ve already run the traps with some of my financial friends and your name came up a few times.”

  “Oh…I see.” Gabriel tensed.

  “Gabriel, relax.” Asrani restrained a tight smile. He loved having the upper hand…and he had it now with Gabriel.

  “I know all about your reputation. I believe successful, talented people usually disrupt the status quo and make their bosses envious. That’s why I chose you. You’re brazen, bold, and you get shit done.”

  Gabriel tried to relax…unsuccessfully. But he mustered a tentative smile. “Thank you, Asrani.”

  “Here’s the thing. I want the data security check completed before Aug. 7th, so I can deliver a comprehensive report to the board. They’re convening for a two-day meeting starting on Aug. 6th at the Boston office. That’s where we plan to locate the center of operations for the expansion. I want an in-depth cybersecurity test with and indisputably positive result by then. It’s what I need to make certain the bank expansion proceeds without delay.”

  “Wow! That’s a week from now. I’ll be honest, that’s a very tight deadline. And there’s no way I can guarantee a positive outcome.”

  “Gabriel, I know it’s a fast turnaround. None of the big firms can do it quickly. Too much process and too little production. It’s why I picked you. I expect you will get this done, right? And the result will be favorable, of course.”

  “Asrani, let me be clear. If you want me to do this, then I will. But I’m not going to fake the results. If that’s why you picked my firm…well, then we have a problem. Besides, it’s not…”

  “…and Gabriel…,” Asrani interrupted without apology.

  “Yeah?”

  “I know you’ve got financial obligations, Gabriel. The IRS…lawyers…payroll…it’s crushing you. And your proposals with Citibank, Hospira, and the Corn Growers were all rejected. You’re right for this work…plus you need it…and so do I.”

  Gabriel stiffened. “How the hell did you get that?” he demanded, through clenched teeth. “Tha
t’s personal, private information.”

  “I had my chief security officer check you out. He’s ex-law enforcement…and he knows how to get me the information I need. But that’s not significant. What is important is that this account will mean a lot to you. Am I right?”

  “Um, yes. That’s true.”

  “So…it’s settled…you will do the test…you will do it on my timetable…and the conclusion will be satisfactory. Right?”

  “Asrani, I do need this work. But I don’t fabricate reports. There’s no reason to.”

  “What do you mean…there’s no reason to…I don’t understand?”

  “Pilgrim Trust will not pass our penetration test…or any other one. There really is no pass or fail. No institution is hack proof. We find weaknesses that can be corrected. It’s up to the client to make those improvements.”

  “Okay, okay. I get it. I can work with that. I know you’re the best. Do the test. Brief me on the results. You’ll help me make the case to the board. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  Gabriel shook hands with Asrani, packed his things, and made his way to the airport for his flight back to New York. His first phone call was to his lawyer, Cody. He left a message asking him to draw up an amendment to the Pilgrim Trust contract for the new scope of work.

  Cody, remember, this is for a planned hack so make sure all the waivers, indemnifications, limits of liability, confidentiality, and all that other crap is included. We’re hacking a bank, so we need to be bullet-proof. Oh, and I need the paperwork by end of day today. It’s a rush job. Thanks, Cody. Call me if you have questions.

  Gabriel’s second call was to Pablo Souza, the social engineer he planned to use for the data hack. Again, there was no answer, so Gabriel left a voicemail.

  Pablo, I hope you’re not busy. I’ve got a rush job. Get you hacker buddies ready. We’re hitting a bank. It has to happen next week. I’m flying back to New York now. Let’s meet at the range. We can go to your place after. I’ll get the Tecate and Patron. Text me if that won’t work for you.