Executive: A Thriller

by Leslie Wolfe

  A short, dramatic pause, then Stephanie continued.

  "This time, disaster hit us right here, at home, where we all should feel safe and protected. The Air Force will not have a choice. It must provide us with official findings about this incident, and, hopefully, stringent safety measures must be imposed, so we can all feel safe again within the boundaries of our homeland. While the vigil in our hearts continues for those struck down here last Friday, we pray for the well-being of those still fighting for their lives.

  "Reporting live from the scene of the drone incident near Gulf Breeze, Florida, this is Stephanie Wainwright, with News of the Hour."

  ...45

  ...Wednesday, June 30, 8:19AM

  ...NanoLance HQ—Information Technology Floor

  ...San Diego, California

  Alex breathed in the refreshing fumes of steaming coffee coming from her mug, deeply enjoying the wonderful aroma of Brazilian dark roast.

  She opened her laptop, the cloned one, to see if any interesting emails had accumulated overnight. The screen came alive immediately, going straight to the login screen, meaning the evening before she had just slammed the lid, instead of shutting it down properly. She put in her password. In front of her bewildered eyes, the screen displayed a message: printer installation complete. She verified in a hurry: yes, two printers had been installed on her laptop, one laser and one color inkjet.

  Oh, my God, she thought, leaning back against her chair, thinking of possible implications. First, she concluded, Louie is one hell of a hacker. Her password was long, complex, unpredictable, not a dictionary word, and included numbers, letters, and special characters—an exclamation mark and a number sign. But had he seen anything? She checked for signs of anything out of the ordinary, checking folder access time logs, not really sure how else to gauge if he had noticed anything unusual. He could have checked the settings of the keystroke logger; he could have seen that the data was being saved, but not transmitted, unlike the rest of the company-issued computers. He could have noticed her archive of cloned emails from a number of key players in NanoLance's leadership.

  She checked the email archive's last date and time of access and breathed with ease; it showed an access time stamp prior to her conversation with Louie, the conversation during which she had so naïvely invited him to hack into her machine. Let's assume everything is all right, but watch for signs of otherwise, she concluded, getting ready for her staff meeting.

  All her direct reports were waiting in the conference room, ready for the weekly staff meeting. Bob Foster, the infrastructure manager, his kind eyes having a secretive smile hiding in them. Lisa Murphy, apparently a decorative doll, but with the sharp wits of a junior PhD in physics, was blatantly smiling ear to ear. Alan Walden, whose permanent worry had succumbed in favor of a more relaxed expression. And, of course, Louie, whose face was reflecting the playfully innocent look of a nine year old whose bicycle is in the middle of the driveway, while he's telling everyone he didn't leave it there.

  "Good morning, everyone," Alex said, and then sat down. She looked again at everyone around the table and decided to grab this bull by its horns.

  "By the looks of it," she continued, "you are all aware of Louie's exceptional hacking abilities."

  A roar of laughter burst in the room. Louie blushed.

  "What were you thinking?" Alex asked, with visible amusement, yet watching carefully for his reactions. "You're not supposed to hack into anything, that's illegal!"

  "No, ma'am," Louie said, "not with your consent, it's not."

  Another roar of laughter. They had all known about this for a while.

  "I see. I guess you're right, I did specifically invite you to hack in, didn't I?"

  "Precisely. The way I read your orders, ma'am, was that you did not have the time to input your password, and you delegated the task to me."

  "Lovely," Alex said.

  "By the way, you have one extremely complicated password," Louie continued, "took me a full fifteen minutes to crack it."

  "Oh," she said, with an admiring tone that acknowledged his ability.

  "He is the meanest hacker out there, this guy, but don't tell anyone," Lisa offered.

  "All right," Alex said, changing direction, "let's talk a bit about what we can expect from the aftermath of the drone incident, and how infrastructure and support needs to prepare. Thoughts, anyone?"

  "First of all," Lisa said, "I don't think we were to blame at all. We do one hell of a job here, you know."

  "Who do you mean, we?" Alex wanted to know for sure.

  "We, infrastructure and support, this team," Lisa replied.

  "It's not about putting blame on the department. The company might have a rough patch ahead of it, though, even if the company wasn't to blame. I want us to focus today on our readiness to support the larger organization, as it deals with the aftermath of all this. Regardless of who was the Florida drone's manufacturer, we still need to be ready to assist."

  "We can allow access to our data, in a structured manner, with zero or little warning," Bob said. "Our systems are designed to allow quick retrievals of data and activity or service logs, to do exactly that—support potential investigations or performance assessments. We're good on this end."

  "On my end, though," Alan said, "we could run into potential problems."

  "Why is that?" Alex asked.

  "Well, we deploy the hardware associated with the loading, testing, and deployment of the drone landmark acquisition and recognition and the target recognition software."

  "And why would that put us in a hot seat?"

  "Because, well, corners were cut," Alan said, looking down. "Not by us, of course, but we have knowledge of that being the case."

  "What corners were cut?"

  "The software testing did not occur on specs. Hardware deployment sees the activity logs and can figure out what testing had been done, and if it's up to par with the spec. You see, for all the software we deploy, we have specifications for the particular hardware that goes with it—this is what my team does. There are also clear specifications as to how software should be developed, tested, deployed, and retested. That's where the corners were cut, in the software deployment team."

  "Did you report your findings?" Alex asked.

  "Yes, more than once."

  "What happened?"

  "I was shot down, told to mind my own business."

  "Did you report these findings by email?"

  "Oh, sure, CYA, right?" Alan smiled sadly.

  "CYA? What's that?" Alex looked confused.

  "Aww . . . don't tell me you've worked in corporate for so long and you don't know what CYA means?" Louie laughed. "Stands for cover your ass, as in having paperwork to prove you've done your job."

  "I see, well, thank you for educating me," Alex said, then turned her attention back to Alan. "Can you please forward me such emails? They would probably come in handy in the near future."

  "Will do," Alan said, looking less at ease. "Other than that, we're in good shape. But if there's an official inquiry, and they ask me direct questions, I will have to tell them the truth."

  "I would expect nothing else," Alex said, supportively.

  "On my end," a now-serious Louie said, opening his portfolio to look at his notes, "there has been, in the past, business analysis done ad-hoc, by request of several executives, reflecting less-than-expected performance results for various areas touching infrastructure. I have also been asked, over time, to run reports for areas that were outside of the scope of infrastructure and support, such as software reliability and testing analysis reports, R&D-related reports, and so on.

  "I have to confess I kept my head down on these reports. I ran the data, drew the conclusions, sent them over, and never followed up if the results were bad. Maybe I should have said something to somebody, I guess. My thinking was that if they were running the reports, then they were planning to do something to address the shortcomings, so I didn't feel compelled to do an
ything about the subpar performance that I found in my reports. Now, well, I don't know anymore."

  "All right," Alex said, "I wouldn't worry about it now, what's done is done. Let's be ready to assist in every way possible going forward. Let's keep one another informed at all times. It's better to over-communicate issues going forward, than risk missing key information. Anything else?" Alex asked, preparing to adjourn.

  Silence.

  "Then, we're good. Have a great rest of the day!"

  "Going out for a smoke, boss?" Louie asked, invitingly. She nodded her approval. Lisa tagged along.

  Out on the lush lawn, Alex pulled her e-cig from its holder and inhaled the light vapor.

  "Not doing the real deal anymore, huh?"

  "Nah . . . stains my teeth and stinks up my house, but I can't quit either," she replied laughing.

  "Listen," Lisa approached her with timidity, "there's something I wanted to tell you."

  "Sure, go ahead."

  "There were some people asking questions about you yesterday. Sheppard was with them."

  "What people?" Alex felt her heart doubling its rhythm.

  "Not sure. They wanted to know if you ever mention anything outside of work, if we ever met with you socially, if we heard you reference anything out of the ordinary, stuff like that."

  "There were two men," Louie clarified, "pretending to ask casual questions, but they seemed really interested in you, specifically."

  "I see," Alex said. "Does this happen often?"

  "It does happen now and then," Louie said, "we are, after all, a defense contractor. We all have security clearances to be able to enter this building. Sometimes there are audits being run, just to prevent potential problems."

  "Ah, then I'm sure that's OK, nothing to worry about, but thank you both for letting me know. I really appreciate it," Alex said, putting her e-cig back in her pocket.

  "One more thing," Louie whispered, close to her ear, "don't ask people to forward you certain emails. You never know who's watching email traffic, do you? Then you'd both get in trouble . . . If you want to see Alan's CYA emails, ask him to print them. That's what printers are for."

  ...46

  ...Wednesday, June 30, 6:00PM

  ...Money Markets Review Newscast

  ...Nationally Syndicated

  Vincent Moran's voice took a lower, more serious pitch, usually reserved for bad financial news of sizeable impact.

  "After the numerous lives lost in Florida last week, as to be expected, NanoLance stock came under serious pressure from investors looking to cut their losses and liquidate their assets while their value is still notable. NanoLance lost today the biggest percentage in its trading history: 17.45 percent lost in a single day of trading. That's a cumulative 26.44 percent loss since the Florida incident last week.

  "While markets were closed over the weekend, and not many investors were ready to pull out this past Monday, the volume really picked up this morning, following the News of the Hour report on the Florida drone incident. The report was syndicated nationally last night. While findings in the Florida incident are yet to come, all drone manufacturers share in the losses brought by this unfortunate incident, but NNLC, again, leads the parade of high-dollar losers on Wall Street. With shares trading now under the hundred-dollar threshold, for only $83.47 at closing bell today, NanoLance has lost its investors tens of millions of dollars, and most say this decline is not over yet.

  "From Money Markets Review, this is Vincent Moran, wishing you a fortunate day."

  ...47

  ...Wednesday, June 30, 6:09PM

  ...Tom Isaac's Residence

  ...Laguna Beach, California

  The landscape in Tom's backyard was designed to inspire peace and tranquility. Alex was feeling neither, instead pacing restlessly on the patio, around Tom and his grill.

  "Grab a seat," Tom invited her, "it's better in the shade."

  "It's all right, can't settle down, don't know why," she replied.

  Steve's eyes met Tom's in an inquisitive wordless expression. What was going on with her?

  "Tell me about your day," Tom asked.

  "Nothing to it, really. The team is great, I love working with them. Every morning I look forward to getting there."

  Steve's concern rose, a slight frown shading his face. Tom picked up on it and continued.

  "You make me curious, give me some details, what did you do today? How is your boss?"

  "My boss is a wicked asshole. By the way, I just learned I have two bosses now. I report to Sheppard, the chief of technology, but, in fact, I work for Walker, the biggest, slimiest snake of them all. Huh! I guess that's my luck!"

  Alex was behaving quite out of the ordinary. Her usual attention to detail and focus on the specifics of her complex task were gone, replaced by this restless indifference.

  "And your day? Anything worth mentioning?" Tom pushed.

  "I had a really amusing staff meeting with my team. They are nice people, you know. One of them hacked into my laptop, but that was because I told him to. I didn't think he'd do it."

  "You're not making any sense, Alex, slow down. Who hacked into your laptop?" Tom asked.

  "Louie, he's my analyst. He's also an ex-Navy SEAL."

  "Interesting," Tom said, "but why did he hack into your computer?"

  "'Cause I told him to. Never mind, it's OK. Has no meaning, I checked. But two people were asking questions about me today."

  "Who were they?" Tom was getting seriously worried.

  "Not sure, could have been a routine check for new hires. I heard it happens every now and then."

  "You have to promise me you will be extra careful. At the first sign of real danger, you have to step away. You need to promise you will call me, and then walk away." Tom had left the grill to cook on its own. He was standing in front of Alex, getting her full attention. "Is that understood?"

  "Yes, sir." She looked pale. "I'm not so hungry anymore."

  "Just a burger," Steve intervened, bringing the salvaged, yet overdone, hamburgers to the table, "it's not going to kill you."

  "OK, I'll try to eat something."

  Claire had joined them earlier, going unnoticed while everyone was caught in their conversation. They were all seated, thoughtfully chewing their hamburgers. Alex was playing with her food, more than she was eating, extracting the patty from the bun and nibbling at small pieces of it.

  "Gotta run," she said abruptly, standing up, "I have a lot of emails to browse and a lot of stuff to do before I go to bed. Thanks for dinner!"

  Before they could react she was gone, climbing behind the wheel of her Toyota and driving away.

  "OK, what just happened?" Claire asked.

  "Wish I could tell you, honey," Tom said, "but the thing is I don't know." They both turned and looked at Steve.

  "I don't know either, but something is definitely off. She is obviously preoccupied. Her brain was working in high gear on a different subject than our conversation. And she wouldn't share—that is what scares me. Whatever it might be about, if we know, we can deal with it."

  "True," Tom said thoughtfully, "do you think she might be stressed out?"

  "Dealing with a secret agenda such as hers in an environment like NanoLance can definitely take its toll. Add the twenty dead and sixteen wounded in Florida as a form of pressure, and it's possible that she might be caving in. She might be ridden with guilt that she's unable to solve the case fast enough. She might be deeply tired and in a state of hyper-vigilance, due to hiding her real identity for so many hours a day. Remember, she has two of everything: two identities, two difficult and challenging jobs, two laptops, two phones. Most of us struggle to properly handle only one of each."

  A sad chuckle came from Tom. "How do we help her?"

  "We need to watch over her carefully. In a state of hyper-vigilance such as this, the brain and the body get tired and become unable to correctly deal with stressors. She could overreact to otherwise normal stimuli or fail to perceiv
e a threat in due time. And she was definitely not eating much either."

  "I was hoping she had what it takes to be successful on her own in this type of work," Tom said, letting his disappointment take over.

  "I wouldn't write her off just yet, we actually don't know what's going on, and she hasn't made any mistakes. She's also new at this and dealing with a case way more difficult than my first case was. Back in the day when I started working for you, if I had been hit with the pressure of twenty bodies, I would have probably caved under that strain."

  "She's just a kid," Claire pleaded, "a kid you threw to the wolves. You have to take care of her." She reached across the table and squeezed Tom's hand. "Promise me you will."

  ...48

  ...Thursday, July 1, 7:49AM

  ...NanoLance HQ—Operations Floor

  ...San Diego, California

  Alex arrived at the office earlier than usual, to catch up on cloned email review before the place got busy. She felt tired and edgy; she could hardly wait for the small coffee machine to finish brewing.

  Two emails caught her eye in the first minute. Both emails came from Walker, the chief operating officer; both were worrisome. About the first one, there was nothing she could do.

  From: Benjamin Walker (COO)

  To: Angela Prescott (VP HR)

  Subject: Request

  Sent: Wednesday, June 30, 8:47PM

  Angela,

  Please run an extensive, in-depth background check on the new director of infrastructure and support. There's more to her than meets the eye, and I hate surprises.

  Thanks,

  Ben

  The second email though made her jump to her feet.

  From: Benjamin Walker (COO)

  To: Angela Prescott (VP HR); Chandler Griffiths (CSO); Audrey Kramer (CFO); Dustin Sheppard (CTO)