“What now?” Devlin asked.
“Flag it, and move on. Yours is not to judge any further,” David said authoritatively. Lori and Ikel nodded their concurrence.
“It could have been worse. The last one like that I read was more masochistic and graphic. At least this one demonstrated some decorum,” said Lori.
“Oh yeah. He was a real sick fucker!” Ikel said, determined to say something.
“Ikel, quiet,” David started calmly, pausing only to find the right words. “In another life at a time such as this, I would have espoused the virtues of forgiveness and love, and for my own benefit, sought solace in the Judgement. I turned my back on that life because I learned to understand that Judgement takes too long. Now, you need to learn to be comfortable that flagging the message is all the judgement that’s needed from you.”
Devlin was nowhere near as collected in reply. “The guy’s a paedophile! I’m glad he’s dead! There’s my judgement!”
“First things first. These messages haven’t been sent yet. This guy is still alive, he’s just getting his house in order,” said David.
“It might be a ghost anyway,” Ikel added.
“A ghost is a bogus or dummy member, created by persons unknown,” David pre-empted Devlin’s next logical question while reaching for his drink. “They keep us on our toes.”
“Why would someone create a ghost?”
“Remember that LastGasp’ is a miracle of legal loopholes,” Lori answered while David drank from his mug. “All it needs is one security breach to bring it unstuck. A ghost message could be just a setup. Some information planted to see if anything happens.”
“Except this one isn’t a ghost,” David added. “There’s no definitive identification of anyone, perpetrator, friends, or victims. This one’s just a paed’. Rack it up and move on.”
“So we do nothing?” Devlin asked in disbelief.
“You’ve done enough already. You’ve flagged it. Move on,” said David.
Devlin sensed he was about to upset David again, when Lori began. “What could you do? There’s nothing that you can do in this case.
“Think about it. No-one can access the message text except for us, and there’s nothing identifying in it. This one’s a lost cause. We don’t, and can’t, know who sent it. And this guy hasn’t left any clues to help us track him down, directly or indirectly.”
“But surely the police could…” Devlin thought out loud.
“The police can’t do anything. They aren’t allowed to access a private database because of privacy, and even if they could, which they can’t, what could they do with it? Little more than us,” Lori spoke understandingly.
“But they aren’t all like this,” David said optimistically.
“So I’ve seen,” Devlin said. “So I put up with the crap to be periodically distracted with paedophilic epitaphs. Great! And for the record, Glen and you all sold this job as a means of making a difference. I don’t see this as making any difference.”
“You miss my point. I said the messages lack identifying header type information, like the member name and their contact details. But they’re often not totally anonymous.”
“So you can identify people?”
“Of course. Some people with nothing to hide mention names, including their own, often writing about themselves in the third person like an obituary. Others who actually do have something to hide also name people or themselves. Directly, or indirectly we can often identify people.”
“Glen is the best at it. Identifying people that is,” added Ikel. “I’m OK, but David is bloody hopeless.”
David took the light-hearted criticism well. “And because I’m so bad at it, there’s a whole Research Interface to help. Lori will show you that I’m sure.”
“Lori?” asked Devlin.
“I’ll show you it later. Let it run, and it comes back with masses of information which you can use to help identify the message sender. It’s much like an Internet search, but this will give you more. Lots more!”
“God knows where it all comes from, but it’s not perfect,” said David. “Glen’s algorithm doesn’t seem to be as good as Google’s, so you just get masses of information. It’s really just a tool to enable you to qualify a protocol.”
“It’s only when you can identify people that you understand the breadth of the LastGasp’ member base,” Lori added excitedly. “Politicians, rock-stars, sports-men and women.”
“None of this explains what happens to the information,”
Lori, Ikel and David looked at each other, albeit fleetingly, before David answered. “We think that all of the protocols basically mean that Glen gets notified, thereafter, we each have our theories or suspicions for what happens next. It’s fair to say that none of us think that the police formally receive the information.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you think that the police would have a mandate to do something with the information? Or they’d drive constitutional changes so that they could, legally, get the information for themselves. We’d hear about it if they got the information one way or another.” A smile appeared on David’s face, adding, “But I never said nothing happens. Ikel calls it ‘Karma’. I prefer ‘Divine intervention’.”
“Like what kind of Karma?”
“We read things and routinely what we’ve read come to light in other ways. You’ll see for yourself soon enough. For example, recently I read a message from a woman mentioning, amongst other things, regret for a love tryst with her husband’s friend. We flagged it. Not long after you might have seen in the news a guy being charged with a near fatal beating of his friend.”
“Hardly definitive,” challenged Devlin.
“Perhaps, but the devil’s in the detail. There was explicit information in the message that matched the defendant’s justification. Our means of identification might not be an exact science, but at least in this case there was no mistake.”
“That’s hardly proof that Glen or LastGasp’ information was involved. It sounds more like a co-incidence.”
“And so LastGasp’ remains safe from litigation,” David replied in a matter of fact manner. “That’s the point. Even we couldn’t swear to Glen’s or LastGasp’ involvement. We experience a lot of coincidences!”
“Right,” said Devlin, beginning to understand. “Paedophiles go free, but Glen makes sure that adulterers get some justice. So did he contact this guy directly?”
“Maybe, but you’d never know. Cases like this happen all of the time, but you’d never know if you didn’t know what to look for. Thus the TVs and if the truth be known, most of our reading is of newspapers rather than messages.”
“Most of us virtually live here so that we don’t miss stuff,” Ikel added.
“So do the paedophiles get theirs?”
“Stop being fixated on paedophiles! Just focus on the messages,” David insisted. “The Research Interface is there to help us identify people, but you’ll discover after you use it that it’s next to useless in its current form. Glen will get his algorithm right sooner or later.”
“OK. So what gets flagged?” Devlin realised that there were things that, for now at least, he needed to accept.
“I’ll explain it as it was explained to me; to each of us. Flag what would make your ears prick up and take notice if you overheard it.”
“Got any other examples?”
“Come on! Think about it,” David made Devlin think. “What would make you listen harder if you heard it?”
“Anything sounding like a confession? Murder? Rape?”
“Yes, and no,” said Lori. “You’re right, but you needn’t just think of the sinister side. There is an upside of human nature you know.”
“What about someone who’s looking to take their own life?” David complimented Lori’s approach. “What about someone writing of their ongoing search for a person that could be someone you know? Would this attract your attention?”
“And all this get
s flagged?”
“‘Flag it’ is as much as you need to understand.”
“Of course, we can use our own discretion too,” said Lori. “We call that a personal protocol.”
“That sounds more promising.”
“Glen calls it ‘doing what you think is right’. Promising it may be, but there’s a rule. It mustn’t get back to LastGasp.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. That is it,” said David. “But it isn’t as simple as your naivety would have you believe. All you need to do is identify someone, without any identifying information, and then do what you think is right. But what would you do? If you just confront the person, on the assumption that you can identify someone, a complete stranger, then they’ll know the source, and that can’t happen.”
“What if …”
David stopped Devlin before he could complete his point. “Whatever you’re suggesting, a re-think is in order. Violence won’t get you anywhere, and it only takes for you to be implicated in any capacity for LastGasp’ to come unstuck.”
“I could go to the media. An anonymous tip?”
“Same deal. The media are as dumb as they are ruled by the dollar,” David challenged. “Technically, the media are even worse than you confronting someone personally. Not only would your target person be able to identify where the information actually came from, but the media would, sooner or later reveal their source. Both of which are bad.
“Making a difference here is simpler and more productive than you’d think. Just flag it and move on.”
“That’s not making a difference!” announced Devlin. Incensed, he looked to enlist some support. “Lori, Ikel, help me out here. I feel like I’ve entered this under false pretences. Make a difference, my ass!”
Lori and Ikel did not rally to Devlin’s call. They looked to David, demonstrating their allegiance accordingly. “Ikel. Take him out for a bit of headspace,” said David. Ikel stood obligingly, and ushered Devlin to the door.
Chapter - 11.
Ikel led Devlin outside without a word being spoken. Clear of the building, Ikel began to speak casually as he directed Devlin along the footpath in what appeared to be a random direction away from the office. “You’ve got the wrong idea about LastGasp’, and us.”
“Bullshit!” Devlin replied abruptly.
“Hear me out. We all want to make a difference, and we do. It might not be as glamorous as being a whistle-blower, or as overt as getting your hands bloody, but it helps.”
“Helps who, Ikel? Who does this really help?” Devlin asked angrily, as if he was not to be so easily placated.
“I’ll do better than that. How about I ‘ken show you.” Ikel removed some keys from his pocket and unlocked an adjacent B.M.W. by remote. “Get in. We’re going for a drive.”
Devlin got into the car, as instructed. The car was clearly new, but there was a smell that Devlin could not place and he pondered its source for a moment. It was a bodily odour of some description that made him suddenly self-conscious that perhaps he was the source.
Ikel drove with the exuberance of his youth, aggressively accelerating and braking, and continually searching for spaces in the traffic. Despite this, Devlin was surprised to feel relatively safe, albeit with his seat-belt securely fastened.
“I ‘ken love this car. I’ve only had it for a few weeks, but I still get a buzz every time I get behind the wheel!” Ikel spoke without taking his eyes off the road. “Paid cash of course, and the money was all clean.”
“Where are we going?” Devlin enquired; the distraction of the drive having a calming effect.
“Not long after I joined, I read a message. I knew who it was straight away. It was from a dealer I knew from my past life. I hated him, but that’s a different story,” Ikel said with a calmness at odds with his driving. “As it panned out, he figured that sooner or later he’d get his, but he wanted to leave some cash to his surviving family and friends, if any.”
“So you flagged it and then what?”
“Let me finish. The dumb prick figured he could use LastGasp’ to detail where he’d hidden five hundred thou’, cash. And why wouldn’t he? LastGasp’ is secure, and the messages won’t get sent until after he’s dead. What a great use for LastGasp’!” Ikel braked abruptly and pulled over to the kerb outside a suburban train-station and pointed to a bank of lockers. “24. Locker 24. That’s where the money is.”
“You stole it?”
“I’m a lot of things, and in my past I’ve been even more, or perhaps less, but now at least, I’m not a thief,” Ikel replied. “There was nothing special about the message itself, so it didn’t raise the usual red flags. Lori and David didn’t flag it, but I knew who it was. I didn’t flag it either.”
“So the money’s still there?”
“It could be. All I know is I didn’t touch it.”
“Why not?”
“Of course I could, but why?” Ikel looked at Devlin philosophically. “It’s only money. I could steal it probably, and possibly get away with it, for a while, or forever. But what if I got caught? With my history, I’d get jail time for sure. More importantly, there’s more at stake if LastGasp’ got involved, and it would. Why else would I travel across town to break into that particular locker? Any half competent investigation would eventually implicate LastGasp’, thanks to me. That’s worse, and sooner or later you’ll understand this. Respect for the ‘greater good’ says I leave it alone. Meanwhile, I’m getting paid ‘ken good money.”
“Look me in the face and tell me that all that cash is nothing, irrespective of what you earn now!”
“What I get out of LastGasp’ is more than money. Understand this, and you’ll understand LastGasp’.”
“Ikel, the only thing that I really understand is that you all appear to be fanatical in your support of Glen. And for all of his alleged vision and what LastGasp’ appears to offer, your idea of making a difference makes little difference to anything except your wallet … but hey, apparently this is not about money!”
Ikel was quiet for a moment, giving Devlin an opportunity to calm down. “Would you be happy if the money was handed in? Or if Glen had it?”
“At least that might explain things more than this bullshit ambivalence to money.” Devlin thought for a moment before asking a logical question. “Did Glen take it?”
“God knows. Glen keeps pretty well to himself and we rarely see him. But I did see him here one time. I come here every now and then to focus.”
“You saw him at the locker? And how does coming here enable you to focus?”
“To be honest, I think that Glen was watching me, and he just wanted me to see him. He never said anything to me afterwards. And for your other question, you haven’t really experienced it yet, but it can be a little stressful. Coming here lets me think a bit.”
“Can we head back now?”
“Not just yet. I want to make one more stop, but great to hear that you want to get into it.” Ikel pulled out into the traffic and returned to his previous driving style.
Devlin used the opportunity to think. Cynicism aside, amid the blur of cars and the erratic driving, he couldn’t help but consider Ikel’s take on matters. He lost track of where they were heading.
“Last stop, then we’ll head back.” Ikel broke his silence as the car stopped outside a well-kept cemetery. He slumped forward, draping his shoulders over the steering wheel. “I would be here by now if it wasn’t for Glen.”
“I get it! You’d be dead. Glen is a saint. All praise to Glen.”
“That’s him, my uncle, over there,” Ikel said, pointing to a grey haired man tending gardens in what appeared to be the better end of the cemetery. “I just wanted and needed to be more.
“Glen’s no saint. He just understands people better than most. He understands what people need, not what they want.”
Devlin ignored the philosophy of Ikel’s comment. “Can we go now?”
“OK. It’s time we headed back anywa
y.” Ikel restarted the car and raced off into the traffic.
Both Devlin and Ikel were silent for some time. While the silence was not uncomfortable, Devlin started to see that there was potential for this time in the car as an opportunity for good or bad. He knew that his provocative attitude would not cast him well to his new work peers and he accepted that ultimately he’d need to start to foster a friendship of some kind.
“Sorry to be a prick,” Devlin started. “I never used to be so negative. I guess I’ve just got a lot to take in. And despite how great Glen’s been, this really is a bit odd.”
“It’s OK. I thought it was all weird too when I started. Meet a guy who offers you a job, and a fat wad of cash and it’s all legal. I was suspicious too, but gradually I realised that it was OK. I’m just trying to save you some time before you come to the same realisation. Meanwhile, here’s a tip.”
“What?” replied Devlin humbly.
“Try and get on with people. It’s easier that way,” Ikel smiled, even momentarily taking his eyes off the road.
“Ikel, can I ask you a question?”
“Go nuts.”
“Why haven’t you asked about my past?”
“Your past makes you who you are. Glen taught me that. Why do you want to know?”
“Does it matter? Why didn’t you ask?”
“OK. Maybe because it’s none of my business or because we’ll get to talk about it eventually at work. Happy yet?”
“Not really. Don’t you care about what I almost went to jail for?”
“Nope. I could just as easily have said that I don’t give a shit, but that isn’t entirely true. I’d be interested in your take.”
“What do you mean ‘my take’? I’ve been acquitted!” Devlin said, trying not to take offence.
“Yes, you’ve been acquitted, but someone is still dead. The rest is just gravy.” Ikel lacked subtlety.
Devlin thought about what Ikel had said and how he’d summed it up perfectly, particularly for as much as the world cared. “Mind if I get it off my chest then?”
“Sure. Traffic’s bad anyway.”
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