Headhunters

by Charlie Cole

  “Good morning, Mr. Parks. Nice to have you here,” she said. Her voice was somewhere between a greeting and a warning. Max seemed not to notice.

  “Simon will be joining us as a headhunter,” Max said.

  “’Headhunter’,” Catherine scoffed. “No one calls us that anymore, Max.”

  “Maybe they ought to,” I said.

  Christine’s eyes locked on mine and I didn’t blink. Max didn’t seem to notice and led us away.

  “Nice to meet you both,” I said over my shoulder.

  “You too!” Tom said, leaning out of his door. Christine said nothing, just watching as we walked away. When we were a fair distance from them, Max leaned closer to me.

  “Tom’s a good recruiter. Up and comer. He’s a junior me,” Max laughed and squeezed my shoulder. I chuckled for his benefit. “Christine is our senior recruiter. She’s tough, determined and takes absolutely no shit off of anyone. I’m glad you didn’t back down. You show fear around her, you’ll have to piss on your own desk to mark it as your own, otherwise she’ll take anything she can get.”

  We strolled to the huge glassed-in room and I realized that it was not in fact a conference room, but rather it was Max’s office. He flicked on the light and illumined the entire place, revealing a polished wood desk and cabinets, bookshelves and end tables. It was truly an executive office, but unlike most old school executives, Max’s office had one critical difference.

  On his desk sat a state of the art desktop computer and flat screen monitor. That told me something about him. This was a man who took his job seriously and did not leave the running of the business to other people. He was willing to roll up his sleeves and work side-by-side with his employees. I had to respect that.

  I noticed from my peripheral vision a woman approaching from my right, but it wasn’t until Max addressed her that I truly took notice.

  “Jessica? Have you got a second?” he asked.

  The woman stopped and I saw she was on a cell phone call. She told the person she’d call back and rang off, giving us her full attention.

  I’m not one to be taken by physical beauty. A woman is who she is, not what she looks like. But this woman was truly, classically pretty. Her auburn hair framed her face in soft curls. Her green eyes were lively and inviting. I couldn’t help but want to talk to her. And when she smiled, I felt like I could enjoy her company for quite a long while.

  “Jessica Madison, this is Simon Parks,” Max said. I’d begun to grow tired of his introductions, but this one was a worthy exception. “He’ll be working with us in recruiting.”

  “Hi! Welcome aboard,” Jessica said warmly. “I’m sure we’ll be talking a lot in the next few days.”

  “Jessica’s our junior recruiter here, but she brings some excellent background in corporate records and documentation. She’s our expert in research,” Max filled in. “You two will be working closely together on special projects.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll talk soon.”

  And then she was gone. Charming woman. I’d have to get to know her better.

  “Your office is right this way,” Max explained. He led me to the office that flanked his. I began to understand the layout now. Max Donovan’s office sat in the center of the north wall. His senior recruiters, Christine Frost and myself, had offices on either side of his on the west and east walls respectively. On the outside, beside the senior recruiters’ offices, were Tom Ellis and Jessica Madison.

  Max flipped the light on in my office and I could see the bare essentials of office furniture. A desk, a chair, a credenza… it was there for me to make it home, as much as I wanted to.

  “Thank you,” I said. “This will be just fine.”

  “Your PC is set up and our network techs will give you all the support you need to get started. Come into my office for a moment. I want to show you something.”

  I followed Max back to his office and sat in the chair across from him. He spun his chair around and opened a cabinet behind him revealing a safe. He turned the lock and opened the heavy steel door. Then, he reached inside and removed a file folder. The paper clip on the outside of the folder shifted and in a brief blur, I noted a thin document within the project folder with the words “SECRET” stamped discretely across its face. A small flash of panic went through me and I wondered how far from Blackthorn I’d really wandered. But the truth was companies all across the country do business with the government. Every day, software development for government agencies is outsourced to private firms. Safety precautions had relaxed in a post-911 backlash to the harsh restrictions on private firms being used.

  The process was relatively simple. An agent from the United States Secret Service would come and visit the facility of the company to do the work. They would verify that the work being done was held in the strictest confidence and that company could hold security clearances to do the needed work. This was no different. There were no shadows in the closet here, I assured myself.

  Max found the page he was looking for, leaned back in his chair and locked his gaze on me.

  “Simon, the Department of Homeland Security is concerned about their internal security, specifically security of their information systems,” Max began.

  This wasn’t really news to me. This was a fairly obvious statement. It was their job to be paranoid.

  “Specifically, their concern lies in the area of their finances. Since the Enron and Goldman Sachs debacles, I’m sure you know what’s happened in the area of IT Auditing.”

  “Of course,” I replied. “Sarbanes-Oxley compliance has become a huge area of concern for publicly traded companies. Millions have been spent to bring in consultants in order to comply with that law.”

  “Then imagine if you will, how important it is to the DHS,” Max said, his eyes boring into mine, “to track funding for every operation in the war on terror. And to keep that information absolutely secure.”

  The ramifications were obvious. If information on funding for DHS operations were ever to get into the open, the details of the operations and where that money was being spent weren’t far behind. It was the backdoor that would cripple domestic counterterrorist operations.

  “I see your point,” I said quietly.

  “We’ve been tasked by the Undersecretary of Management and the CFO to find a project manager to lead a project to test security of the financial systems within the Department of Homeland Security,” Max’s voice was lowering with each word, his eyes intent. This was gravely important. The sink or swim moment.

  “What’s the JO look like,” I asked, inquiring about the job order.

  “Fairly extensive write up but the long and short of it is this,” Max explained. “We need someone who can test system security from the hacker side. A real black hat operation on the front-end. Find a way to beat the system, holes in security, any possible way in. Then, it’s all white hat… lead the team to stop outsiders from doing the same.” “Basically, plug the holes behind them,” I offered.

  “Precisely.”

  “What’s the talent pool look like?” I asked.

  “Active Top Secret clearance, experience doing these kinds of projects before or at least references that can speak to their abilities, even if they can’t publish it on their resume. We’re looking for a criminal hacker, except one that will work for us. Savvy enough to get dirty. Professional enough to fix the problems.”

  “When do we begin?” I asked.

  “The clock is running, Simon,” Max said somberly.

  I unclipped the cell phone from my belt and began dialing.

  “Alright,” I said with a sigh. “Let’s do this…”

  “I’m sorry?” Max asked, puzzled.

  “We’re going to find you the best security guy in the business. I’m just hoping he’s still in the country. And not in lockdown.”

  “Right now?” Max asked.

  “Right now.”

  Chapter Five

  There are mome
nts in life when the best approach is to take it easy and let the answers come to you. This was not one of those moments. I was under the gun, under pressure to find the perfect candidate for the hottest project in the market right now and time was critical. Failure was not an option. There was no free pass, no easy way out. It was put up or shut up time.

  How do you find someone who doesn’t want to be found? You make them come to you. I dialed from memory and was listening to the phone ring.

  “Who are you calling?” Max whispered, leaning across his desk. I looked at Max and wondered how much I should tell him. A name wouldn’t hurt.

  “Chris Swenson,” I said.

  “The Christopher Swenson?” Max hissed. I didn’t bother to answer him. Chris Swenson had made the news three years ago when he’d managed to hack into NASA. What didn’t reach the news was that the NASA job was a cover for his real pet project, hacking into ECHELON, the global network for monitoring communications by phone, fax, email and everything else practically down to smoke signals. Blackthorn had found him before he was successful.

  I first met Swenson in an interrogation room in what the newspapers would describe only as an undisclosed location. The field agents called it the “Recreation Room” and from the looks of Swenson, they’d had a bit of fun with him while bringing him into custody. He was scuffed and bruised and cuffed to the wall. His face was crimson with anger and his “Off-Duty Ninja” shirt was torn at the collar. He looked like he was best friends with a plate of ribs and wouldn’t recognize a treadmill if he walked past one. I recruited Chris that day and put him to work for me.

  Chris and I and a team of agents took on terrorist operations up and down the east coast for six months. Then, one day, Chris disappeared. He vanished without a word and went off the grid. I knew the work made Chris high-strung. I knew the work made Chris high-strung. He would gulp down Redbulls and pork rinds, then wash that down with double espressos. But the thing about people like Chris is that they are irrevocably tied to technology. They can’t bear the thought of not being in touch, no matter how much it could come back and bite them in the ass.

  I tried his home phone and work phone of the small PC fix-it shop he ran. Both numbers were disconnected. I tried his cell and heard the message that his number had been changed. Chris had used scrambled mobile phones on Blackthorn operations so I’d never needed to use his personal cell number. That’s the only reason he hung onto it. I dialed the alternate number and got Chris’ voicemail at his new cellphone. He sounded better, healthier in his message. I couldn’t discount what a life away from the stress of our business could do.

  “Hi, this is Chris Swenson of Clarion Corporation. I’m unable to take your call...” Chris’ voice droned on until finally he said, “If you need assistance immediately, please call extension 338 to speak to Joe Beckett in IT Security.”

  “He’s working at Clarion,” I said.

  “The software design company?” Max asked. “Don’t they do… video games or something?” I was already dialing again.

  “Video games are incredibly well-guarded secrets in their industries,” I said. “You take the top software developers in the country, pay them a ton of money and put them in a hyper-competitive marketplace. Somebody better be watching security.”

  I dialed information and got the number for Clarion. They put me through to the front desk and I dialed Joe Beckett’s extension… except for the last digit. I didn’t want the security person who worked for Chris. I wanted Chris himself.

  While the phone rang, I gestured to Max that I needed something to write on. He pulled a legal pad from his top drawer and handed it to me. I saw him look up then and wave someone in from the doorway. It was Christine Frost. She approached and sat down, quietly listening. Max was explaining something to her, I assumed giving her the play-by-play of my call.

  The phone was picked up a moment later by a woman.

  “This is Susan,” she said, her voice pleasant. I had no idea what department she worked in or what her position was, so this next part was critical.

  “Hi Susan,” I said. I softened my voice and tried to be charming without coming off as smarmy. “My name is Max Frost and I’m the new field technician for Clarion. I’m working under Joe Beckett in IT security…” I watched both Max and Christine stiffen as I threw their names into the mix and tried not to chuckle.

  “Oh, yes…” Susan said. I could tell from the uncertainty in her voice that she couldn’t confirm or deny this story. There was some truth to it by using Joe Beckett’s name but she didn’t know me. Surely I must be the new guy, just not added to the company directory yet.

  “Well, Susan,” I continued, “I’m having some serious issues with the remote network and I don’t want to compromise any of our data. Joe’s busy at the moment and I really need to talk to someone.”

  She was flustered now, unsure of how she fit into the picture.

  “What can I do to help?” she asked.

  “Susan, all I need is the directory listing for Chris Swenson. I’m up to my eyeballs in cabling down here and I don’t have his number programmed into my phone. Could you get that for me? I’d be so grateful.”

  I could hear her flipping pages and then she rattled off a number. It was completely different from Joe Beckett’s number. I’d never have found him by intentionally misdialing off of Beckett’s number. Chris was entrenched, well-hidden.

  I looked up. Tom Ellis had joined us. Christine was watching me.

  “Did you find your mystery man?” she asked. Her tone seemed to indicate that she doubted if I ever would.

  “Why yes, I did,” I said. Ellis smiled, then quickly hid it when Christine looked up at him. I saw that woman walking by again. Jessica… that was her name. I gestured to Ellis. “Could you ask her to join us please?”

  Ellis ran out of the room and a moment later returned. Jessica smiled when she saw me in the middle of everyone.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  I tore a piece of paper off the pad and handed it to her.

  “We’re recruiting someone,” I said. “I need you to call this number. The man at the other end will be Chris Swenson…”

  “The Christopher Swenson?” she asked. I wondered for a moment why everyone did that, but simply continued.

  “Yes, tell him that your name is Susan from extension 337 inside Clarion Corp. Tell him you just got a phone call from someone that you think is a hacker trying to get company names from the directory.”

  “You mean social engineering?” Jessica asked.

  I was pleasantly surprised that she knew the term.

  “Yes, exactly, but don’t use those words or he’ll know you’re not Susan. Then tell him that the person who called dialed in from this number…” I handed her another sheet of paper.

  Jessica looked at the numbers, at me, at Max and back to me again.

  “That’s it?” she asked.

  “That’s it,” I replied with a smile.

  Jessica began dialing and Christine couldn’t help but pipe up.

  “Oh for God’s sake, that’s never going to work,” she said. “No one does these ruse calls anymore, because they don’t work.”

  “Well, we’ll just see won’t we?” Max said. He was eyeing me. I knew he was wondering if I could pull it off. No one hoped that more than I.

  I watched Jessica and was amazed at her confidence, how she took direction and applied it immediately. This was obviously foreign turf for her, but she picked it up without blinking an eye.

  “Hello?... yes… this is Susan at extension 337 at the Clarion offices... Right… someone just called… no, I don’t know who it was… he was asking for names out of the company directory… no, he didn’t say who he was… no, I don’t know!” Her voice was more emphatic this time and I wondered if our mask of deception might be slipping. “He left this number, though… yes…” She read him the number, thanked him and hung up.

  “Very nicely done,” I said.

>   “Really?” Jessica asked. Her face was hopeful. I hadn’t been around anyone like this. Eager to learn, not jaded or cynical.

  “Absolutely.”

  “I don’t see what that accomplished,” Christine said. “You’re not any closer to recruiting that person now than you were before.”

  “Do you really think he’ll call?” Ellis asked. He saw through the posturing and bull to what the entire point of the exercise was, to get Chris to call me.

  I raised my cell phone and looked at the display. I wasn’t grandstanding. I wasn’t putting on a show. I waited… a beat… then two… I could feel everyone watching me… and then my phone rang. I allowed myself the smallest of smiles before I answered.

  “Hello, Christopher.”

  “Oh, son of a bitch…” He said, his voice barely a whisper.

  It was him. No number of years could make me forget that guy.

  “I thought you were dead…” he breathed.

  “Those rumors have been greatly exaggerated,” I said. “Got a minute? Or would you like me to come down to your office for a visit?”

  “No, no, no… don’t come down here,” he said. Chris was panicky. I could imagine him looking for a conference room or his office, anywhere that he could talk and not be overheard. “Ok, go ahead. I can talk now.”

  “Been behaving yourself?” I asked.

  “Yeah, yeah… straight and narrow, man.”

  “Good. Hate to hear otherwise. Look. I need something.”

  “Wh-what is it?”

  I smiled to myself. I had his attention and he knew that there was nowhere on the planet that he could hide from me. One way or another, I’d track him down.

  “I have a little project I want to talk to you about with the Federal Government…”

  “Oh my God…”

  ***