by S. P. Perone
Briefly turning to look at Shane, with a wide grin, Markson added, “You’re going to stay up nights trying to figure out how to spend all that dough, Tony.”
Driving along in silence for a while, Shane saw that they were rapidly approaching the airport turn-off. Reflecting on what Markson had said, he had to admit that he was persuasive. Although they hadn’t discussed it, Shane had added to the list of positive items the fact that an industrial position might help resolve the conflict that he and Sarah would face if they both remained in academics. That is, it would help…if Sarah were able to get a suitable position in or around Albuquerque. Shane was sure there would be a position for her at CryptaGen; but he wondered if she would be willing to give up her goal of finding an academic job. And, he wondered if she might be able to get a position at UNM…or one of the other academic institutions in Albuquerque or Santa Fe.
But, there was something else that had been bothering Shane; something he hadn’t yet put his finger on; something unsettling about the CryptaGen situation. As they pulled into the short-term parking garage across from the airport departure area, the fuzzy gremlin in the back of his mind finally began to take shape. He determined to use the last half-hour of their time together to question Markson regarding the significance of this ominous feeling.
Sitting in a booth and sipping on margaritas in the lounge across from the United gate, Shane and Markson found they had about fifteen minutes before Shane would be boarding the flight to Chicago. It was the point in the day where Markson hoped to get some indication from Shane regarding the chances of his taking the job. He knew Shane would not make a decision now; but he would expect him to indicate if there was no chance at all. So, he chose to press the issue.
“Well, Tony, what do you think? Can we start getting your office ready?”
With a chuckle, Shane replied, “I don’t think you want to put my name up on the door just yet, Larry. I really need to think about this.”
“So…the answer isn’t ‘no’, at least,” Markson remarked tentatively.
“Now, Larry, how could I say ‘no’ to a quarter mil a year? I’m gonna have to be either really drunk or really judicious to turn you down…and I’m neither one of those right now.”
“But, there is one thing I would like to talk to you about,” Shane continued. “How do you feel about developing this SpyraNet package…and marketing it to the Feds? I have to confess that’s been bothering me all day.”
“Tony, just think about it for a minute. If we don’t develop this kind of package, somebody else will. We might as well be making the profit. Besides, this is really challenging stuff, and it’s been an exciting project…one I think you would really appreciate. I just wish you could have spent some time with Max today; his work will blow you away.”
“And, there’s something else to consider,” Markson added. “If we’re a major player in creating stealth surveillance software…at least we’ll be in the best possible position to develop packages to defeat these intrusions. Even though we can’t stop the wire-tapping, we can generate packages that put up a firewall against unwanted access to individual workstations…even bySpyraNet software. That is going to be a tremendous market. And, I’m sure you wouldn’t have any objection to being involved in that part of our R & D.”
Puzzled, Shane asked, “I’m confused. How can you have it both ways? How can you produce stealth surveillance software with one hand…and then market protective software with the other? Wouldn’t your customers in the surveillance business require an agreement prohibiting your marketing anything that would defeat their efforts?”
“Tony, you have no idea what kinds of loopholes our attorneys can create. In fact, some of the loopholes have already been legislated. For example, legally, any agreement prohibiting our counter-developments would have strict time limits; also, it’s common practice that these prohibition agreements refer to specific protected features of the software. If we can develop ways of defeating the surveillance system, which bypass those specific features, we’re free to do so. It’s much like patent issues, except in this case we would need to find a way to get around ourown patent!”
Raising his drink as in a toast, Markson added with a wink, “And who would be better equipped to defeat a ‘patent’ than the company that issued it?”
Slowly shaking his head, Shane just smiled, swallowed the last of his margarita, and rose to begin making his way to the departure gate across the broad corridor. Thanking Markson for the interview day, and apologizing for the brief visit, Shane promised to get back to him soon regarding the job offer. Then, he hustled up the gateway to the waiting 737 aircraft…his thoughts abruptly shifting to the events that would soon be unfolding back at Daniels University…and to an urgent phone call he would have to place to Carothers over the scrambler phone.
At eight o’clock Friday morning, Shane was at the university strolling down the inner corridor to his office, when Sandy suddenly burst from her doorway to greet him.
“Dr. Shane,” she bubbled, “it’s so good to see you!”
Before he could respond, Sandy had thrown her arms out and warmly embraced him. Her uncharacteristic behavior left Shane dumbfounded and momentarily speechless.
Leaning back so that she could look up at his face, she said, “I’m really sorry you had to come back to this so-called ‘inquiry’.”
As she finally let go of him, and stepped back, Shane said, “Thanks for your concern, Sandy…and thanks for the warm welcome! I have a feeling this may be the last pleasant experience I’m going to have today.”
“Speaking of the meeting, do you have any documents from the Research Committee? Agenda? Participants?” Shane asked.
“Yes. The package is on your desk. Why don’t you go on in and check it over, while I fix you a cup of coffee.”
Walking into his office and sitting at the desk, Shane quickly found the large manila envelope from the University Research Committee that Sandy had already opened, and reluctantly began to slide the papers out. Fortunately, he had spent some time with Harry Churchill and Luci last night, and Shane had learned who would be attending the meeting, and pretty much everything that was on thewritten agenda. The fact that the agenda provided no details did not surprise him. The detailed strategy for the inquisition probably resided in Clarkson’s mind alone.
Looking over the official notification, Shane noticed that it had come from the Provost’s office; that the entire committee would be there; and that the Provost would attend, but not chair the meeting. That honor would be reserved for Clarkson.
While sorting quickly through some of the other correspondence Sandy had extracted from envelopes and piled neatly on his desk, Shane became aware of Sandy’s presence. He turned his head to see her standing there with a steaming cup of coffee.
“Here’s your coffee, Dr. Shane. Can I get you anything else?” she offered.
“No, thanks, Sandy. The coffee is all I need right now.”
Clearly reluctant to leave, Sandy remained stationary after placing Shane’s coffee on the desk. Shane could see the concern in her eyes…the normally bright steel-blue color was muted by a perceptible cloud. He knew she would not be denied.
“Close the door, Sandy. And have a seat. I think we probably need to talk.”
Turning quickly to reach out and close the door, Sandy pulled up the chair normally reserved for the students’ one-on-one research talks with Shane. Smoothing her skirt, she sat down, crossed her legs, and placed her hands on one knee. She waited for Shane to speak.
“Sandy, I can tell you’re concerned about this ‘inquiry’. And, to be honest, so am I. You may not want to hear what I’m about to say…but it’s probably better if you know now, rather than learn about it later.”
Noticing that Sandy hadn’t moved, or even blinked, Shane reached out and put a hand on hers…detecting the icy-cold indicator of her inner stress. Rolling his chair a little closer, Shane placed both of his warm hands on hers, and looked into h
er misty eyes.
“It’s OK, Sandy,” he continued. “Everything will work out. I don’t have any doubt about that. But, we’re going to have to go through some nastiness, I’m afraid, before this is all over.”
“Can you tell me what you think might happen?” she asked…using a softly pleading tone so uncharacteristic of this take-charge young lady.
“First of all, let me tell you what’snot going to happen,” Shane began. “I’m not going to get fired…and neither are you. You’re going to keep on working with me…at this university…for as long as I can arrange to keep your husband here in Rockville!”
For the first time that morning, Shane saw the mist disappear from her sparkling eyes and the faintest wisp of a smile begin to form. He wished he could leave it at that, but he knew he had to go on.
“This is what I think is going to happen: The Provost is holding this meeting in ‘executive session’. There will be no records; no visitors; and, no discussion outside that room. The Provost and committee will go through the motions of an ‘inquiry’, but they already know the bottom line. The Provost will ask the university to terminate the classified part of the DOE contract, and we’ll have to discontinue classified research on campus. He’ll demand that Bill return to the university to complete his Ph.D. residence. And he’ll say that Sarah and I can continue working at Livermore,only if we abide by faculty/staff rules for consulting…which means we can only be away one day a week during the semester.”
Shane let go of Sandy’s hands, sat back in his chair, and waited for her to digest what he had said. She said nothing, knowing there was more to come.
“I’m sure you see the problems with this kind of outcome. Losing the classified research contract is the least of these problems. That part of the contract paid for part of my time; all of the security; and some travel expenses. None of my students’, or postdocs’ salaries…and none of yours,” Shane allowed himself a brief smile and wink, “is paid from that part of the contract.”
“The big problem,” Shane continued, “would be restricting our work out in Livermore. You remember when we talked last week about how urgent this project is? Well, I can’t tell you any more now than I did then…but there’s no way that any of the three of us can walk away from that project right now. In fact, I will have to find a way to avoid the weekly trips backhere . So…we need to find a way to get around that restriction.”
“Then, there’s the problem of howwe …that means you and I, Sandy…are going to deal with the public, once this whole situation gets splattered all over the newspapers and TV.”
“Wait a minute,” Sandy interrupted. “I thought you said the committee’s actions would all beconfidential ?”
“Yes, that’s true,” Shane replied, “but…do you remember Andrew Mason calling last week? Well, he’s an investigative reporter with theJournal …and he’s alreadygot the story!”
Sandy’s lips parted to emit the tiniest sound, her eyes widened, and she brought her hands up to either side of her face. “What story?” she cried. “What did he say to you?”
“He knows that the classified projects here…and Livermore…are tied to the CIA. He knows who’s involved. And he knows that Senator Moorhouse arranged for us to drop everything and move to Livermore to accelerate the project work. He knows the CIA code-name for the project, ‘StarSight’. But, he doesn’t know what the project is about.”
“Why did he call you, Dr. Shane?” she asked, returning her hands to her knee and re-crossing her legs.
“Mason called me, the Senator, and the others involved in the project. Only the Senator and I actually spoke to him. He was trying to get confirmations from us. We gave him nothing.”
“Does that mean he can’t print the story?”
“I honestly don’t know. He claims he has enough documentation to go ahead with it. He even said he had copies of e-mails between all of us…and God only knowshow he got hold of those!”
Speaking these last words, Shane reflected silently that perhaps he did know how Mason had obtained the e-mails. But, that would be addressed later.
“The Senator seems confident that the story won’t be published,” Shane continued. “But I’m afraid that it will. And that’s the main reason I’m telling you about all of this, Sandy. You will be here; and I won’t. And, I expect that you will be getting lots of questions…not only from people around here…but also from the local news media…maybe even Mason. I just don’t know. But, you need to be as prepared as possible.”
“Do I have to answer any questions…if I don’t want to?” she asked.
“Of course not, Sandy,” Shane reassured her. “You don’t have to say anything to any reporter. But, there may be circumstances where you may feel compelled to answer questions. For example, if the Department Head or some other university official wants to know about my whereabouts; travel arrangements; schedule; or what university forms I’ve filled out…and so on…you can’t refuse that kind of request.”
“But,” he continued, “for the record…you do not know what the ‘StarSight’ project is about…or about my involvement with the CIA; and, you certainly don’t know anything about the nature of the classified work. The only thing you know is that the Senator arranges meetings, which I attend, along with the other co-investigators, either in Washington or California. And, you know that we’ve all gathered together at Livermore Lab to enhance our research progress by working on the White supercomputer.”
Beginning to look more like the calm, self-assured, competent young lady that she was, Sandy interjected, “What you’re saying is that…’for the record’…I only know what has been documented by the forms, memos, and letters you’ve already done…and you haven’t revealed anything beyond that to me. Right?”
“You’ve got it, Sandy. That’s exactly the right line. And, no one should expect any more from you.”
After pausing briefly, Shane continued. “Now, let’s get to the heart of the issue: your knowledge about the CIA connection and the code-name for the project. You were the only person at the university who had that information…until Sarah and Bill learned about it out at Livermore Lab…and now the University Research Committee. That specific information isnot classified; it is not a security risk; in fact, this information is in the public domain…if someone knew what to look for and where to find it. The only thing that is not publicly accessible iswhat the StarSight project involves. And, you don’t know about that…and neither does the Research Committee.”
Pursing her lips, and tilting her head slightly, so that she was gazing sideways at Shane, Sandy inquired, “Are you saying it’s OK for me to admit that I knew about the work with the CIA?”
“Absolutely, Sandy. I never would have given you that information if it hadn’t been OK. The only reason I asked younot to share that information with anyone was because it issensitive …not because it iswrong . In fact, the interactions with the CIA are independent of the classified DOE contract. Those interactions never occurred on campus; and the CIA never dictated what research was done here. The best way to look at it is like my other consulting agreements with industry. We do research here according to an agenda set by research grants. If some company is looking for the expertise, which we develop here, they hire one of my students or they engage me as a consultant. In this case, the DOE sets the agenda for research; and the CIA is willing to pay for the expertise that’s developed.”
“So, if the question should come up, I can say that you were a ‘consultant’ for the CIA?” Sandy asked.
“Yes…but you will have to be careful. You know the university has a policy that we have to list the companies we consult for. And, I have to fill out travel forms, even if the university isn’t paying for it.”
Sandy nodded her head, and waited.
“Well,” he continued, “you and I both know there’s no record of my travelling to visit the CIA, or any mention of ‘consulting’ for the CIA. That’s because the Senator has always arranged th
e CIA interactions by inviting them to our periodic meetings. And, we’ve never been paid as ‘consultants’, either. So…the best description of my CIA connection is as an ‘unpaid consultant’ on their StarSight project…and these interactions only occurred through their participation in the reviews we provided for the DOE.”
“So, that means there was never any reason to provide documentation to the university of the CIA interactions,” Sandy completed his train of thought.
“Exactly!”
For a few moments Shane watched Sandy, expectantly. She sat motionless and pensive for a while, staring at her hands. Then, suddenly, she smiled and looked up at Shane.
“OK, Dr. Shane. I’ve got it now,” she said, as she uncrossed her legs, stood up, and smoothed her skirt. “Don’t worry, I’ll be able to handle it. Thanks much for going over it with me.”
With that, she whirled around and headed to the door. As she opened it and began to move through the doorway, she stopped, leaned back, and…with a sparkle in her eyes once more…said, “Don’t you worry about that committee, Dr. Shane…they can’t hurt you.”
Shane waved her off with a grin, and then returned attention to the meeting documents.
Staring absently at the papers, he reflected on the conversation he had just had with Sandy. He had succeeded in hiding from her how deeply troubled he was. Scrupulously honest, Shane never expected to be in a situation where he would have to compromise the truth before his colleagues. Was he being patriotic? Or, was he being devious and self-serving? At the very least, he was relying on technicalities to portray the truth in the most favorable light. He was willing to do this…to play the “spin” game…because so much was at stake. But, he agonized that Sandy…because of her loyalty to Shane…had been drawn innocently into this charade.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, Shane sucked in a deep breath of air.No regrets , he thought to himself. No matter what happened, he had to stick with the StarSight project. Even if his academic career were shattered; even if Sarah and Bill were detoured professionally; there had been no other choice for them. They knew what they were doing and why.But, Sandy …he thought…please forgive me for bringing you into this.