by E Y Mak
Cherry didn’t respond.
A strong scent of vanilla was lingering in the air as Russell and Lukas entered the living room. Cherry invited them to sit on an exquisite suede couch and went to the kitchen. Both men obliged and sat down. Soon, Cherry brought in a silver tray holding a teapot, sugar, milk, and three china teacups. She set the tray on the coffee table and took a seat in the matching armchair opposite the couch. Before she had the chance to serve her guests, Lukas reached over and began pouring three cups. Lukas mumbled some further words of consolation to Cherry as Russell sat back, silently and respectfully drinking his tea.
After Lukas had finished with the small talk, he formally introduced Russell again. “Cherry, as I said before, Russell’s an old friend of mine from law school. We’ve kept in touch, and he’s been at Phineas for about eight years now. The reason I’ve asked him to tag along is cause I want to make sure that the police did their job properly.”
Cherry didn’t seem convinced. She turned to Russell. “Thank you for coming here today, Russell. But I don’t understand. There have been so many people here already. What more could be found? The police were in here for almost three days.”
“Mrs. Butler . . .” Russell started.
“Cherry, please,” she interrupted.
“Ok, Cherry. The police do a fine job, and I’m not here to second-guess anyone. At Phineas, we do have an additional set of tools that, for various reasons, are not always cost-effective to use in every situation.”
Cherry eyed Russell suspiciously. “With all the lawyers’ costs and everything, I have to be very careful. I don’t really have anything to pay you with. And what could you possibly find?”
Lukas interrupted. “Cherry, don’t worry about the bill. Russell has agreed to look at this initially on a pro bono basis. However, if his time starts adding up, I will cover any costs and expenses.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Cherry said.
“You aren’t asking me to do anything. I want some closure to this too,” Lukas said.
Cherry paused and looked into her teacup as though she was trying to find her fortune. She looked up. “Thank you,” she mouthed silently.
Russell said, “Cherry, thanks for letting me be here today. I’m wondering if I could get started immediately. I’ll take a look in the office and generally around the house. Can I ask you some questions first?”
“Please do.”
“Thank you.” Russell took out his smartphone and opened up a fresh note. “Okay. Just to let you know, I’m taking notes on my phone. Why don’t you start by telling me about what happened that night?”
Cherry went on and repeated most of what Russell had already read in Constable Thompson’s notes. With minor inconsistencies, they matched up well with what was already in the police file. It was time for a more direct line of questioning. He was here to find out more about the phantom.
“Thank you. I also noted in the police file that you mentioned something about Tim becoming increasingly paranoid,” Russell said.
"Yes,” she said curtly.
“Can you tell me about that?” he asked as he looked up from the note on his smartphone.
“Sure, okay. Tim was always sharp as a tack, you know. He worked really hard and wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty in the field. He was so excited when he came home from his first Cameroon trip. The results that were popping up were, in his words, ‘once in a lifetime.’ So when he started seeing things that weren’t there, it was weird. I was worried.”
Russell watched as her lips began shivering and her red eyes broke contact. Lukas immediately leaned over and offered her a comforting hand and a tissue. After a few moments, Russell quietly sucked in a deep breath and continued.
“Can you tell me the kind of things that he started seeing?” Russell asked.
“Well, one thing was his emails. When the SEC started investigating, they found all these emails that they claimed establish the link between him and the fake results at Burrard Consulting,” she said, looking sadly into Russell’s eyes. “But he told me that he didn’t know anything about those. And then there was the video where he essentially admitted to it all. It was hard to reconcile the two. But I stood by him.”
“You’re saying he had no recollection?” asked Russell.
“No. He didn’t say he didn’t recall. He was adamant that he didn’t know anything about it and didn’t say what he said. Even when the SEC investigators showed the hard copies and video to him.”
Russell remembered the appearance of a defeated Tim on CNN disclaiming responsibility for the fraud. The “video” was a leaked Skype chat where Tim appeared to be directing how to tamper with the samples. It was a smoking gun with no room for ambiguity.
“Cherry, he seemed pretty contrite about it on the television. Almost ashamed. He used words like recall, recollection. Words that suggest it could have happened.”
"Those were his lawyer’s words,” she said, turning away from Lukas. “He was in full PR mode by that point. He didn’t want people to think he was crazy. He was strong when the investigations first stated. But when the public turned on him, then his family and friends did the same, it was hard. He gave up, a broken man.”
Russell asked in his most soft and most sympathetic voice, “Do you believe him?” He saw Cherry flinch at the question and look down towards the Persian rug beneath her.
“I don’t know. The proof was there. But he was so adamant to the end. The world was against him, but I didn’t give up on him,” she said.
Russell paused to let Cherry take a breather. He could tell from her quivering voice that she was on the verge of tears.
Russell apologized, and Lukas moved over again to comfort the widow. Russell proposed that they take a break and, while Cherry wasn’t looking, Lukas pointed in the direction of the office.
“Cherry, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to take a look in Tim’s office,” Russell said. She nodded as her tears bled into Lukas’s brown cashmere sweater. Russell left the living room and walked down the hallway towards the office.
The room still looked exactly as it did in the photos and as described by the coroner. The styling of the room, similar to the rest of the home, evidenced a sense of newfound wealth that was interrupted mid-renaissance. The couch was a brand-new expensive Natuzzi, the computer appeared to be a top-of-the-line Apple iMac Pro. The bottles of liquor were expensive and unopened. However, the desk and hutch were cheaply made, the desk chair was old and squeaky, and the printer looked ancient.
Russell circled the room, putting on a pair of latex surgical gloves before inspecting the closet, the contents of the hutch and desk, and carefully lifting the cushions on the sofa. As suspected, all had been cleaned, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He leafed through the filing cabinet and found multiple invoices and bills evidencing a life in the suburbs—but nothing more.
Since the emails seemed to be so important, maybe I should take a look at them too. He walked over to the computer and booted it up. After filling in the login information with the password he remembered from the police file, he started searching through the more obvious locations—the documents folder, the recycling bin, and the desktop. Knowing that he wouldn’t have sufficient time to review all of the correspondence, he took out his phone and connected it the computer. Phineas R&D had installed software onto his phone that could be used to download the contents of an entire hard drive. Within seconds, the Phineas software activated and set itself up as a mounted USB drive and initiated the download.
A slight wave of guilt spread through Russell’s chest. Russell should have asked for consent. He figured he would be able to convince Cherry about the necessity of doing such a thing once she had enough time to collect herself. One of the partners he had worked for on Wall Street had a motto. In circumstances like this, it was better to shoot first and ask for forgiveness later.
While the phone was copying, he noticed a folder on the desktop called “
Cameroon.” Opening the folder, he found a word document that didn’t seem to open. Maybe I can print this thing. He flicked on the printer. Before he could push the print command, he heard the paper feeder abruptly stop its initiating sequence. Damnit, paper jam. Kneeling down, he found the printer, dragged out the ripped sheet inside, and pushed the green icon again. The printer whirred before spitting out another piece of paper that Russell promptly picked up.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Russell stood up, put the piece of paper in his jacket pocket, and looked towards the entrance. Standing in the doorway of the office was Lukas and Cherry. She looked more composed now.
“Russell? Are you okay in here? Can I get you anything?”
“Yes, just running through the elements of the police file. One thing I’d like to confirm is that I get a good look at Tim’s online profile. Are you okay with me copying some of his files for analysis at Phineas?”
Cherry hesitatingly nodded. Her eyes were closed into slits, and there was a slight flair to her nostrils. She looked slightly betrayed. “If you must,” she said slowly.
“Thank you, Cherry. One other thing. This goes back to the paranoia that you said Tim was starting to develop. Can you tell me if there were any other signs?”
Cherry sighed. “Yes, there were other signs too. Tim was certain he was being followed.”
Russell raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Followed?”
“Yes. He said there was a tall, slender man following him around,” she said cautiously.
“What else can you tell me about this man?” asked Russell.
“Not much. Just that he saw this man once midtown staring at him. And another time while he was driving, he was sitting on a bench with a newspaper. But not looking at the newspaper—just staring straight at him. Oh! He didn’t have any facial expression. He was just staring. It was creepy the way Tim described him. It was almost supernatural. I don’t really have much more to tell you about him—Tim didn’t want to talk about him much,” said Cherry.
“Do you believe this person, whoever he is, was indeed following your husband?”
“I’ll admit I wasn’t entirely convinced. A lot was going on at the time. I was more focused on the emails and the video. At worst, we figured it might be a private eye or one of you guys. Is he related to the case?”
“Okay. Thanks, Cherry. I don’t know yet if he’s related to the case. But I think I know enough for now. Thanks.”
“Let me know if you need anything further,” she said, as she took a couple steps and gave Russell a hug from the side.
After the phone finished copying the contents of Tim’s computer, Russell spent another half hour searching the office and the rest of the house. He didn’t find anything else that would break the case open. After some final words of consolation, Russell and Lukas left the home. In the car ride home, Lukas asked Russell what he thought about the entire situation.
“I’m still collecting my thoughts. Once I’ve gone over whatever we have at Phineas, I’ll sit down with you, and we can go over it.”
As they sat quietly in Lukas’s car on the stop-and-go traffic back to Manhattan, Russell remained unconvinced there was more to the case then what was in the police file. He was still lost in thought when suddenly his phone rang. He took it out and looked at the screen.
“Daniel Peters.”
He could somehow sense the impending anger in the smartphone vibration as he answered.
“Russell. Where have you been all afternoon? The place is going off right now. Get your ass back to the Tower.”
Chapter Ten
Earlier that day at Phineas Tower
After leaving Russell’s office, Candice walked straight to the twenty-something-year-old woman seated at the cubicle outside Russell’s office. A chrome nametag set high on one of the cubicle walls confirmed her identity.
“Marissa?”
Marissa looked up, a furrowed brow evidencing her annoyance at being interrupted.
“Yes?”
“I just spoke with Russell. He wants you to help me with what he called standard victim searches.”
“What kind of victim are we talking about?” Marissa asked indignantly
“Suicide,” Candice answered.
“No, we need to know what kind of guy this is. Was he or she a criminal? A stay-at-home soccer mom? A celebrity? We need to know where to properly search for information on the victim.”
“Oh. Well, our subject is a relatively infamous CEO of a junior mining company. Made the CNN rounds a couple months ago. Timotheus Butler. Not sure on his middle name.”
“His name is relatively distinctive so that should work for now. I should have something preliminary ready for you this afternoon.”
Candice watched her jot down the name. After telling Marissa to track it to Russell’s personal file, she asked for directions to the Phineas control center. Marissa printed off a copy of the floor map.
“It’s on fifty-five. You’ll need invitation access to get in. I’ll call Petri Ulanov and let him know that Candice Pirelli is meeting him.”
After the earlier cold exchange, Candice thought that was surprisingly helpful of her.
“Thanks, Marissa,” she said.
Candice found the control center much easier than she had thought she would. The elevators on 55 opened directly to two comically large steel doors marked “Control Room.” One of the two guards flanking the entrance eyed her carefully as she approached the door. Seeing her Phineas security ID tag, he pushed a button and waved her into what looked like a small waiting room. Through the glass at the far end of the waiting room, she saw for the first time the famous control room of Phineas intelligence.
The central intelligence room was the size of a small auditorium. Three large video displays dominated the front of the room, each displaying a different region of the planet. The most prominent display in the center, about forty by thirty feet large, showcased a topographical map of North America, with a heads-up display showing roving clusters of dots over New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Seattle, and Philadelphia. The other two screens displayed rotating maps, photos and various bits and bytes of data that undoubtedly had some strategic purpose. In front of the screens, forty computer terminals were set on the floor of the auditorium. Each terminal had at least two swivel chairs and anywhere between three and six monitors. A row of plain white wall clocks lined the right side of the room, each labeled to indicate the city and time zone the clock represented.
Candice was in awe as she approached the second round of security. The first thought coursing through her brain was its similarity to the NASA Houston control room that she had seen in all those movies. Apollo 13. Armageddon. She approached the partition of thick glass that separated the entryway from the intelligence room and introduced herself to the security guard.
“I’m looking for Petri Ulanov.”
The guard grunted as he pushed a soft button on his console’s display. Candice heard a crackling sound emanate from the guard’s computer. “Yeah, I expecting Candice Pirelli from Investigations,” said a voice coming in over the intercom. The guard grunted again and pushed a second button. She heard the door buzz, and the guard motioned to Candice to enter.
“Go to Terminal Eleven. The second row, far left. Can’t miss it. Look for the hair.”
No one looked up as Candice tried to source Terminal 11. She glanced at each terminal as she passed.
31—Oriole
22—A-Rod
17—Marlin
Evidently, whoever designed the control room was a baseball fan. She hoped Terminal 11 was Seattle-related.
Up ahead, she saw a man with a green Mohawk waving his hand in the air. He looked smallish and bony and was dressed in an oversized Phineas golf shirt and baggy slacks. She waved back and quickened her pace. As she reached Terminal 11—Mariner!—she couldn’t help but notice Petri’s eyes go up and down her body as he reached out with his hand. After seeing wave aft
er wave of close-cropped haircuts, dark suits, and manila file folders, Petri looked like someone she would definitely classify as “conduct unbecoming a Phineas representative.” The powers-that-be probably never let him into the field on any official business.
Petri spoke with a thick Russian accent. “Petri,” he said, placing his right palm on his chest. “Special intelligence officer. I hear you need rollback. Give me details.”
“Hi, Petri. I’m Candice. I’ve been asked to do a rollback on 5959 Maple Street. I’m not even sure what a rollback is, but I need it from three weeks going back from September twenty-first.”
“Don’t know what Rollback is? You must really be new here. Come, I show you.”
He turned back to the center monitor on his desk and started typing on the second of four keyboards in front of him. Within seconds, a screen showing a map centered on 5959 Maple appeared on the screen. A prominent red dot appeared on the left edge of the map. There were about a hundred smaller white specks dotting the map, loosely forming a tight grid overlaying what looked like Manhattan. There was a looser grid of white specks overlaying the surrounding areas, including Brooklyn.
“The red dot is Guardian II. The white specks are smaller airships or Phineas drones.”
A window popped up next to the map. A date-and-time stamp marked the bottom right of the second window—September 21. It appeared to be a camera view of the address.
“So that’s a live view of the Butler residence from one of the airships as of that specific date and time?” asked Candice.
“Yes. It looks like it was filmed from Airship E839. This one,” he said as he pointed towards one of the white specks situated over Brooklyn.
“Okay, I get it now. Give me a rollback three weeks back,” said Candice.
“Okay, sure,” said Petri. He started adding some color commentary as he worked, almost as if he was trying to impress her. “We always get these requests from law enforcement for help. We do work with them for most part. You know, visual surveillance is all old tech now anyway.” He continued excitedly and quickened his speech. “The really sneaky stuff is with drones. We can get drone to pretty much fly anywhere in city that we want. But it takes a bit of time since they are all clinging to the mesh network. Also, it’s not helpful with rollback unless we know reason for the drone to be in the general area. But if we had better data, I could develop artificial intelligence to make sure drones are in right place at right time.”