Executive: A Thriller

by Leslie Wolfe

  "Dr. Barnaby stepped in?"

  "Yes, he put out a memo stating that all executive new hires should tour the plant and fully understand the business. Nicely done; I finally get to see what's going on out there."

  "How are we doing on self-doubt, then?" Steve asked.

  "Check!" Alex laughed. "Let's order dessert." She opened the menu. "Oh, this is what I want, Depraved Ice Cream!"

  "Are you sure?" Steve asked. "It's loaded with alcohol."

  "Bring it on," she laughed, slurring a bit.

  The ice cream was an unbelievable treat. Vanilla ice cream covered in chocolate syrup, swimming in the finest Courvoisier cognac. The cognac, poured over the ice cream right before it was served, caused some of the ice cream to melt, creating an unbelievable palate delight.

  Steve had ordered an Unchaste Tiramisu, exquisite, yet no alcohol included.

  "It's a shame you're not trying this," Alex said, pointing at her ice cream.

  "Someone has to drive, you know. What's left on our list?"

  She suddenly became sad. Steve noticed and refocused.

  "Fear. I am so goddamn afraid and can't seem to grow out of it. Someone yells at me, my knees are shaking. Since last weekend, my heart stops every time I see a police car. I hear sirens at night, I can't fall asleep. I don't feel safe in my own home anymore. It's pathetic . . . I know I'm supposed to be this fearless, bold, secret agent of sorts, but by the time I get out of that building, I am wiped out. Everything scares me . . . what if someone figures out I have a clone laptop? What if the fact that I see other peoples' email messages surfaces? And I'm not afraid just for me or my safety . . . I'm afraid of letting everyone down—Dr. Barnaby, Tom, you . . ."

  A few moments of silence passed. Tears started flooding her eyes.

  "You know, fear is an inherited mechanism of defense, ancestrally built to steer us away from trouble. You should be scared of being caught with two laptops. That prevents you from being careless, hence keeping you from being caught. Fear is the means through which your body helps you deal with all this. The issue is what we do about our fear, how we handle it, and how we use our fear to make us better at what we do."

  "I get it." Tears were running down her cheeks, but she didn't mind.

  "The questions I have for you are these: What do you want to do? Do you want to pull out?"

  "Absolutely not," she said, sounding determined. "I have to do this, no matter how scared I am. I'll be all right . . . I just wish I could feel safe again, just for a few hours, so I can rest. I need to rest."

  Steve hesitated for a split second, studying her, and then stood up.

  "I think I can take make that happen. Let's go."

  "Where?"

  "My place. We need to change cars."

  ...62

  ...Friday, July 9, 9:00PM

  ...Money Markets Review Newscast

  ...Nationally Syndicated

  Vincent Moran turned to the last page in his portfolio.

  "And finally tonight, a significantly bad week for NanoLance, whose decline continues at an accelerated pace amid the swarm of drone scandals. While details are still owed to the public by the US military authorities, fewer investors are confident that these details will clear NanoLance's battered reputation and restore its once impressive fame and fortune. NNLC gave 3.18 percent more in cumulative losses this past week, closing the day today at $80.82 per share. Those investors still hanging on to their NanoLance shares are betting their money on the unlikely turnaround of the company as being the only way they could recover the significant losses they have incurred in the past month.

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

  ...63

  ...Friday, July 9, 11:25PM

  ...Steve Mercer's Residence

  ...Lemon Grove, California

  She hated to admit it, but she was mostly out of it, falling asleep just seconds after each sentence that Steve said. She could barely remember anything from the drive, since they left the restaurant. They drove by Steve's place; she wasn't sure how long that took or where Steve lived. She had slept the whole way. He carried her from one car to the other. She wasn't that drunk . . . She was just immensely tired. She needed to explain that.

  "You know, I'm not that drunk," she said, half asleep.

  "Uh-uh," Steve said, pulling out of his driveway. "That's what they all say."

  "Ugh . . . Not fair . . . I'll prove it to you. I'm still alert. Why did we change cars?"

  "I don't know, you tell me," Steve chuckled.

  "Now you want me to observe stuff, right?"

  "Right. It's a long drive, and we need a topic for conversation."

  "How long?"

  "An hour and a half."

  "Understated?"

  "Nope."

  "Where are we going? You never told me."

  "Up in the mountains. I have a cabin there. It's the safest place on Earth."

  "Oh." She desperately tried to wake up so she could process the information. No good. Her brain simply refused to operate.

  "Did you drug me?"

  "What? No," he laughed. "You must have me confused with the coworkers from your other job."

  "I've never been so tired," she said, slurring her speech and yawning.

  "It's because you finally feel safe after a long period of non-stop stress. Your body is claiming its toll. You've been running on adrenaline for a while, depriving your body of the deep sleep and relaxation it needs to rest properly and recharge. Here, in the car with me, you know there's nothing much that can happen to you, so you're finally stepping out of your constant state of hypervigilance."

  "So, you know I am not that drunk, right? That's all I care about right now. The rest you can explain to me again tomorrow, 'cause I won't remember much."

  "Yes, I know you're not that drunk."

  Alex could hear the smile in his voice, despite the darkness that surrounded them. Interstate 8 was quiet at that time of night, as they headed toward the mountains. She continued to battle her sleepiness.

  "Why did we change cars?"

  "What can you tell me about the car we're in?"

  "It's an SUV?"

  "Yes, more suited for a ride to my cabin on unpaved roads than the BMW, wouldn't you agree?"

  "Yes," she sighed, closing her eyes and falling asleep instantly.

  "Hey, we're driving by the plant," he said, a few minutes later.

  "Huh?" She tried to keep her eyes open.

  "Yep, we're driving through Alpine." He briefly looked her way. Her eyes were closed. "Ah, go back to sleep."

  She had no idea when they got there. At some point, she felt the road had become somewhat bumpy, but this car was just as comfortable as the other one. She remembered thinking that they should be getting close, once they left the highway. Then she fell right back to sleep.

  Somewhere between her blurry dreams, they arrived at the cabin. Steve carried her inside, where a dim light was on and an immense black dog was waiting in the doorway. The cabin was chilly. Steve took her to a sofa in front of a fireplace and laid her down. Minutes later, a nice little fire was casting shadows on the walls. The dog was lying at her feet. After a while longer, she woke up to see she was cuddled with that enormous dog, on the extended sectional couch, covered with a blanket that dissipated a strong cedar scent.

  Steve was sitting on the floor next to her, stirring the logs in the fireplace.

  "I'm sorry," she said softly, touching his shoulder, "I was not a good date for you tonight."

  "It's all right, kiddo, there will be plenty more opportunities for that."

  "You promise?"

  "Promise. Now go back to sleep."

  When she woke, it was daylight, the sun was already high. Sensing her move, the dog stretched his paws and licked his nose. She rose and noticed she was wearing Steve's pajamas. She blushed. Oh, well . . . She noticed a note, pinned to the fireplace mantle.

  Good morning
, or maybe afternoon?

  Sorry I had to leave—some of us still have to work, you know.

  The cabin is all yours to enjoy. It's remote and secure; you need not worry about any humans bothering you. As for bears, they could happen by, but if you don't leave any food outside, they won't show.

  By the way, the dog's name is Teddy. He looked just like a bear cub when he was little. He still does. He'll take good care of you, he promised.

  There's a hammock in the back, along with a grill. There's plenty of food in the fridge.

  I'll be back as soon as I can. Until then, enjoy your stay and get plenty of rest.

  The note wasn't signed.

  The day passed quickly, between naps, meals, and brief walks around the cabin. The landscape was breathtaking. The cabin overlooked one of the few wooded gorges of the southern California mountains. She had no idea where exactly on the map the cabin would be. From the back, you could see all the way into the valley. Down there, far away, a road was barely visible. She could not distinguish the cars on it. The front of the cabin was facing a thickly wooded patch, and the road leading to the cabin was nothing more than a forest path. She listened hard and could only hear the forest sounds: birds chirping, leaves rustled by the wind. The sounds of serenity.

  Teddy nudged her, waking her from her daydreaming. He was a huge Terra Nova, from what Alex could tell, in great shape and obviously hungry by now. It was dusk already. She went inside and prepared food for her and Teddy. They both sat in the dimming daylight, eating and watching a spectacular view through the window.

  Suddenly she became aware of Teddy's low growl. Hackles raised, he started walking toward the cabin door. She looked out the window, trying to see clearly in the darker dusk. A silhouette moved near the tree line. Alex gasped, seeing a man carrying a shotgun. Teddy's growl grew louder. She crouched, reaching for her cell phone. There was no coverage here, so high up in the mountains. She looked around for something she could use as a weapon. There wasn't much. The man was approaching the door, and she could see him better under the porch light. He was huge.

  The man grabbed the screen door handle and opened it. He knocked on the doorframe.

  "Hey, there, miss?"

  Teddy's attitude suddenly changed, recognizing a familiar voice. The hairs on his back settled, and his tail started waving.

  "Miss? Are you in there?"

  Alex rose from behind the couch.

  "Yes. Who are you?"

  "I'm your neighbor to the south, miss, just came by to see if everything was OK with you. Steve asked me to. Oh, and I also feed the dog when Steve can't make it up here."

  "Oh, I see. Thank you for checking in on me. I've already fed Teddy. You nearly scared me to death," she laughed.

  "Didn't mean to do such thing, miss, I apologize. I'll be on my way now."

  "Uh . . . excuse me?" She did not know the man's name.

  "Yes," he turned.

  "Did Steve say when he was coming back?"

  "Later tonight, that's what he said."

  She waited, curled up on the couch, in front of a newly started fire. When she woke, the sun was high again, and Steve was holding a cup of steaming coffee in front of her nose.

  "Good morning, sunshine, how are you feeling today?"

  "Aww . . . you said you'd come last night." She voiced her disappointment before she could restrain herself. She had made plans for their evening together.

  "Oh, but I did, and you were fast asleep," he smiled. "Here's some coffee, and I promise you there's no meth in it. Come on, you're going to need it."

  "Huh?" Alex took a sip. The coffee was excellent.

  "You have a plane to catch. You're going to Florida. Dr. Barnaby managed to arrange for you to interview the Florida drone operators. We're leaving in an hour."

  ...64

  ...Sunday, July 11, 1:07PM

  ...John Wayne Airport

  ...Santa Ana, California

  Waiting for her flight to board was going to be a while. The incoming flight was late, and the gate was already crowded by loud, impatient travelers. She found a remote corner and sat on the floor. Connecting her laptop, she checked on the emails she didn't review while at Steve's cabin.

  There was only one message that caught her interest, but it was troubling.

  From: Benjamin Walker (COO)

  To: Angela Prescott (VP HR)

  Subject: Reminder

  Sent: Friday, July 9, 10:23PM

  Angela,

  My biggest technology problem has not been solved yet. How much longer do I have to wait? You need to make this happen immediately.

  Thanks,

  Ben

  His biggest technology problem? What could that be? Alex felt a chill down her spine. Was that email about her? Had she become Walker's biggest technology problem, which had to be dealt with immediately?

  Whoa, she thought, trying to curb her paranoia, there's no reason to think that. The technology problem on Walker's mind could be anything. On the other hand, he was emailing HR about it, so the technology problem was, most likely, an employee, not a printer, or a paper-jammed copier. But was he emailing an HR leader? Or a lover? Did he want the employee fired? Or hurt?

  She got so engulfed in her thoughts that she nearly missed the final boarding call for her flight. She grabbed her things in a hurry and, as she was boarding the undersized, crammed aircraft, she decided it was safe to assume Walker's email was indeed about a person. Her.

  ...65

  ...Monday, July 12, 6:15AM

  ...Ted's Consumer Central, CXB TV Station

  ...Nationally Syndicated

  "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen."

  The young anchor seemed sure of himself and joyous for that early hour of the morning. "We're kicking off this new work week with an examination of a GPS system from NanoLance, the Guide. This GPS model has been around for a few years, yet constantly evolving, redesigned, and enhanced. For many, it has proven to be a great device. Yet, as of late, more consumer complaints end up in our mailbox. Therefore, we decided to give the NanoLance Guide a test drive, to see for ourselves."

  The TV screen was showing the anchor handling the GPS device and using it to get guidance on a hiking trail.

  "We've hiked around with the little Guide in our hands for quite a few miles before it started acting up. When it did, it simply lost satellite connection and wouldn't restore it. Sometimes, the available channels for GPS routing are maxed out, and GPS devices, now popular, are competing over insufficient satellite bandwidth. However, this wasn't our case, because the NanoLance Guide was quick to re-establish satellite connection after a full power restart, as in removing and reinserting its battery pack.

  "Then, just a couple of miles later, the LCD screen went completely dark. The voice guidance worked, but the screen stopped showing any information or map detail. This time, a restart didn't do the trick. A good shake did, the type you'd see given in the movies to dying flashlights. Finally, we tested a second handheld unit, but that worked properly for the duration of our test run."

  The image changed to show the anchor back at his studio desk.

  "Somewhere between design flaws and manufacturing flaws lies the explanation for NanoLance Guide's decreasing quality standard. Just a couple of years ago, this particular device scored five stars on consumer satisfaction, best in class for reliability in the last year's Las Vegas Consumer Electronics Show, and overall best performance as indicated by our consumers. Today we can only award it 4.1 stars, a significant loss of prestige for this proud manufacturer. With the hope that this product will soon regain the superstar status it lost, we are rooting for the NanoLance Guide to make a comeback."

  A ticker appeared at the bottom of the screen, displaying an email address.

  "Remember, for any product or service quality concerns, our email address is shown below. From Ted's Consumer Central, I am Harry Hosteen, always on your side."

  ...66

  ...Monday, July 12, 9:30A
M

  ...Mackenzie Air Field

  ...Near Gulf Breeze, Florida

  Alex had expected higher security measures at Mackenzie Air Field. Just stating her name at the front entrance seemed to have been enough. She was led into a small meeting room, whose dirty windows were facing Highway 98, the place where the disaster had struck a couple of weeks before.

  The door opened, allowing two young men to step through.

  "Lieutenant Donald Cohen, ma'am," the first one said.

  "Lieutenant Barry Jennings, ma'am, a pleasure to meet you."

  "Alex Hoffmann, director of infrastructure with NanoLance."

  They were so young, so unbelievably young. She studied their faces in amazement. When did they even have time to complete flight training?

  "Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today," she opened the conversation. "As you might guess, NanoLance would like to get some more details about the incident that happened here," she said, pointing at the window facing Highway 98. "I'd like to understand from you what happened that day and what your perception was about the cause of the incident. I would also like to know more about how these drones are operated on your end."

  "Well, it's simple to operate them, ma'am," Cohen said. "We see on our screen the images captured by the drone's cameras. We have a joystick panel, about this big," he continued, indicating a shape and size with his hands, "and we control the drone's flight from there. All we need to see to be able to control the UAV's flight appears on the control panel's screens. We make it take off, fly, change altitude, attitude, and direction, operate onboard cameras—the sensor array—and launch weapons."

  "Tell me a little about the weapons launch, how does that happen?"

  "Part of the imagery we receive is an infrared view. We pick up heat signatures from people and equipment, such as motor vehicles, missile launch sites, mostly anything that heats to operate. If we're guiding a combat drone, it will transmit this imagery and we decide which targets we're gonna hit."