2 Executive Retention

by Maria E. Schneider

  Unfortunately, after five years of adding people, the company's bottom line suffered. If the guy paid attention to earnings, he should have been able to spot the fact that he couldn't keep adding people--fake or not. After five years and fourteen extra people with salaries ranging from fifty to eighty thousand, the revenue couldn't keep up.

  But if the employees weren't real, how were layoffs done?

  The guilty party, say Jacques for example, must have deleted the employees--or put them in the "layoff" pool so that severance checks could go out. But how did he keep management from figuring out that the employees didn't exist? Even if he tinkered with the master layoff list...hmm. Had he taken real employees that were about to be laid off out of the list and added in fake ones?

  It was a risky strategy unless he was in charge of the layoffs. Of course, in Denton, most HR activities were done by a contractor. Not as easy to track. Had Jacques changed the list at the last minute? Paid the HR contractor to keep her mouth shut?

  I pulled up the org charts again. There were sixteen...no seventeen employees not on the chart. Two employees had regular addresses, but one of them wasn't in the layoff pool or the org charts. Maybe she had quit earlier, but not been taken out of the database. What a mess. If nothing else, Acetel's records were shoddy, especially when it came to the employee database.

  After studying the org charts more, I noticed that the contractors for human resources had changed three times in the past five years. It was a wonder the records weren't worse. Some database details were obviously never checked carefully or updated properly.

  I thought hard about the evidence, because I really did think Jacques was guilty--of something. The problem was that neither of the Denton managers--and probably none of the San Jose managers had real-time access to the layoff information.

  Only Pete and A.J. regularly traveled between San Jose and Denton. Either of them could set up phony post office boxes. Either of them could delay sending Ben reports until after they had been manipulated. They were also the only two who would see the entire layoff list or have any say in changes. Of course, neither of them would need to hack into the system. They should have complete access to all records if they needed them.

  I was fairly certain this new idea wouldn't sit well with Huntington. But A.J. and Pete could both manipulate information undetected. Neither had really hired Huntington; the board hired him. Once under that kind of microscope, A.J. wouldn't dare say no to a close inspection.

  I was completely stymied. Radar had better be able to look up the automatic deposit data, because I couldn't do that on my own. That would tell me if my hunch about the money being funneled into one account was correct. It still wouldn't tell me who was guilty. Nor would it tell me how to convince Huntington once I knew. Even worse, Huntington would probably point out the one other person who commuted frequently between San Jose and Denton. He was a gamer and a hacker. And Radar was either helping me or playing me for a fool.

  Chapter 28

  Sunday morning I had to put in an appearance at church because Brenda had naturally assumed we would meet there before shopping. It served me right that I had to help her shop. When she had asked me again after Thanksgiving dinner for advice about hiding her pregnancy, my smart mouth made the teasing suggestion that she dress as Santa Claus until Christmas. For some insane reason, she thought I was serious and demanded that I help her shop. "I'll tell everyone that I'm dressing in the Christmas spirit to cheer up the sick children!"

  Brenda didn't work in the children's ward, but pointing that out hadn't helped one bit. She had it in her head that dressing as Santa Claus would buy her some time. As a bonus, visiting the kids might help her promotion chances.

  First we went to a uniform store, but they said would have to special order the maternity uniforms.

  "Maybe you should still get a couple of uniforms in bigger sizes than you usually wear. If you're going to add the Santa disguise to each outfit for the next five weeks or so, you'd better plan on being a Santa of different colors. It will amuse the kids and keep your supervisor from concluding that you never do laundry."

  Brenda dithered back and forth. "I really don't want to buy larger sizes. What will I do with them after I have the baby? And," she said loftily, "I'm going to be Mrs. Santa, not Santa."

  What was the difference between larger sizes and maternity clothes? She wasn't going to be able to use either after her pregnancy. "Yeah, okay, but I still think for now you get some of these larger sizes with elastic. Then you can put stuffing under there until you no longer need it."

  "Do you think pink is close enough to red?"

  "Absolutely." I nodded emphatically and then waited while she tried on the pants and large shirt. She didn't need all the room yet, but it wouldn't be long.

  "Wow, these are a lot more comfortable than what I have been wearing."

  Wisely, I kept my mouth shut.

  "Do you think I should get these or wait and see if we find something else?" She posed in front of the mirror.

  "Get a couple and let's go see if we can find some real maternity clothes. Maybe you can get overalls and a green felt hat. Then you'll be able to mimic one of Santa's elves." The words were out before I could stop them. Me and my big mouth.

  Penney's only had normal-sized overalls. The other three stores we checked didn't have anything like that at all. Finally, although Brenda was loathe to shop there, we went to an actual maternity store, "Expectant Mothers." There were cute little goslings following a mother goose in the window display. I clamped my lips shut tight before I could joke about her dressing as a goose.

  We found some denim coverall things that had a giant expandable panel under the tummy part. She could tighten the thing or let it out. Since the coveralls were loose anyway, they really hid her condition.

  She also found a huge red poncho that made her look more like Little Red Riding Hood than Mrs. Claus, but since it fit her ideas, I just shoved the purchase under my arm with the rest.

  On the way out of the store, I almost knocked over Ross from Strandfrost. I had forgotten that Ross was married, but vaguely remembered meeting his wife at the party I had thrown at Huntington's condo. I tried to shift bags around to shake Linda's hand, but with the latest "gosling" purchases, my hands were too full. I ended up just nodding at her.

  "How are things at Strandfrost?" I asked Ross. What else was I supposed to chitchat about? My resignation? His part in getting me fired?

  "About the same, about the same." In obvious desperation Ross looked around wildly for a way out of the socially awkward situation. Finally, he hit on the season and practically shouted, "We're getting ready for Christmas. I promised Linda we'd get the shopping done early this year, except for her present." He grinned kind of sheepishly and ran his hand nervously across his straight-top.

  "Oh yeah, Merry Christmas." The thought of coming back to shop for Christmas caused me to hold my breath in a bit of a panic for a second.

  "Absolutely, Merry Christmas to you too. Good luck." He waved at all my bags. "Looks like you have a lot to do." He grabbed his wife's arm and hurried off like a deranged idiot.

  I looked around for Brenda. She must have ducked back into the store. I looked for her inside, but still didn't find her.

  Exasperated, I finally spotted her coming from Auntie Annie's pretzel counter with a giant lemonade and a pretzel coated in cheese sauce. "Do you want one too? I'm exhausted. I thought we should have a snack."

  No way was I going to fight a pregnant woman for half a pretzel.

  I got my own before we walked back to the car.

  We had to stop at a Barbette's Bobbins, which was not only a sewing store, but a costume shop as well. Brenda found a white wig immediately. The place also had a perky green hat for the elf outfit and a typical red one for Mrs. Claus. Brenda found some stuffing that would round out her belly and make it look fake instead of pregnant. She planned on attaching some cotton to the ends of her uniforms for a cuffed look. />
  I felt a bit of a cheat when all was said and done. She might make it through Christmas, but not much longer. In the meantime, her coworkers were going to think she had lost her mind.

  She was hungry again so I suggested we try "Italy's Canal," the place that Radar had recommended.

  "I love Italian," she gushed. "But I am supposed to be learning to cook. I promised Sean. Of course we're both kind of tired so maybe today isn't a good day."

  "You should never cook when you're tired," I said. Shoot, the woman really shouldn't cook ever, and I couldn't quite fathom what might happen when she was worn around the edges like she was now.

  "Well, then! It's decided. I'll treat you to dinner since you helped me so much. I can't wait to do this again. Do you think Suzy can come with us when I have to register for the baby shower? I didn't want to go that route, but my mother insists on it. Since I'm not going to tell anyone about the baby until way late, no one will know what to get if I don't register. You don't think it's too…forward to register do you?"

  "You don't have to take me out to eat, and yes and no."

  "Yes and no? You don't think I should?"

  "Yes, Suzy can probably help and no, it's not bad to register. How else will people like me without children know what to buy?"

  "Oh, you're right. I hadn't thought of that."

  The restaurant was a quaint mom and pop's place with little red and white checkered table cloths. The food was freshly made, including the bread. All in all, it was quite possibly worth raving about much more than Radar had done. As I dipped bread in the succulent tomato sauce I was even happier that Brenda had decided against cooking.

  A girl can only take so much domesticity.

  Chapter 29

  Monday morning I wasn't ready to face work. I felt even more strongly about it after I arrived. First thing, Jacques informed me that the Kronology folks had decided to visit after lunch. I had shelved the Kronology server by pushing it under an unused lab bench. No one in the lab wanted the thing, and I had assumed the Kronology engineers would never show their faces.

  My entire morning was spent wrestling the server out of the dustbin and getting it set up. Whenever visitors came in the lab, a notice was required so that everyone kept confidential conversations quiet. I sent the notification out, and because Vi was working on a proprietary, unannounced design, we had to wheel out partitions to place around her workbench.

  "I was going to do this anyway," Vi said as we dragged equipment around. "Arnold said that Ben is back to do some consulting, and he wants all our projects kept away from wandering eyeballs."

  "Ben? The finance guy that used to work here?" The guy that lives in Piney Oaks? The one who caused this whole investigation to be started, and a guy who may have had access to all the employee files? I stopped mid-drag on my end of the partition.

  "Yes, the contractor. We never had to watch what we worked on when he was here before. Besides, he never comes into the lab. Arnold is just super paranoid about my current project."

  Hmm. Huntington was right. Knowing that Ben lived in Piney Oaks, I couldn't help but wonder if I was in danger. Had Ben weaseled his way back into a job because he knew we had found the files he had been watching? Of course...whoever was watching those files had a back door into the company. He didn't need to work here. It might make things easier for him to watch all players if he were here...but it was completely possible A.J had hired him back without any prompting. Companies were routinely careless about hiring and firing. Strandfrost had barely waited for the ink to dry when getting rid of Gary before they hired him back. Apparently Acetel was no different. In spite of all that was going on, management couldn't wait to hire.

  I didn't have time to worry about it, at least not today. Unless Ben showed up in the lab with a gun, I had to deal with the real job of Kronology.

  I made sure the Kronology test still failed because I'd rather kill roaches for a living than be embarrassed in front of that particular team of engineers.

  By lunchtime I was prepared to do battle. Jacques called me from his office before escorting the Kronology guys upstairs to one of the conference rooms. I met them at the doorway to the meeting room. The tallest guy muttered something about "short."

  I could have worn heels to make my frame taller, and maybe I should have put a pillow around my middle, but I wasn't going to look six feet tall or two hundred pounds anyway. "Good afternoon," I said with a serene smile.

  "This is Sedona." Jacques coughed into his pen. "She's been dieting."

  I stared at him. The man was an idiot. I offered my hand to the guy closest to the door.

  "Craig Yumen. I'm the project manager. This is Rob Mandell. He wrote the code, and he's an excellent trainer."

  We shook hands all around and then got down to business. I went over the reports. We went down to the lab where I demonstrated the error. I was grateful that Art was now afraid to enter the lab when I was in it, so I doubted I'd have too much trouble from unexpected chaos.

  The server failed three times in a row. Rob tried to tell me how I should have shut the server down. I ignored him. "Do you want me to tell the customer he'll have to buy a product from another company if he wants to have a backup power cord?"

  Jacques sputtered and so did Craig. "No, no. We can add that functionality since the customer requested it," Craig said.

  I was kind. I didn't point out that the marketing advertisements said the functionality was already there. I did ask how long it would take.

  Craig turned to Rob. "What do you think?"

  Rob was a tall man, but he had let himself go around the middle. His physique wasn't helped by the fact that he stood like a wrestler in one of those funny poses designed to show off muscles. Instead of answering the question, he sat down in front of the machine. He looked at various parameters, changed the values and muttered. In his anger, he slapped roughly at the keys and accidentally entered a negative number in the temperature warning column.

  Like a bomb in free-fall, the server shut down. It was impossible to miss the telltale whirring noise as the fans slowly choked themselves to a stop, but Jacques kept right on making pleasantries as if he hadn't noticed the splattering silence of the dead server.

  I suggested helpfully, "You should probably change the code so that if the customer accidentally puts a negative number in that spot, it doesn't cause the server to crash."

  "Bitch."

  Jacques gargled and stopped mid-sentence.

  I couldn't believe it. "What did you say?"

  Rob stood up, clenching his fists the way he had before, but instead of posing, this time it looked as though he was trying to keep himself from attacking. "Bitch."

  I didn't bother to swallow my anger. Rob probably wouldn't try to bench press me in front of all these people. I crossed my arms, but made sure I was clear of the lab bench and any other obstacles in case I needed to run. "That's what I thought you said. What does me being a bitch have to do with errors in your code?"

  His eyes bulged. "It's connected all right! If you weren't such a bitch, we wouldn't have this problem!"

  Having two brothers, I had been called names before. Having two brothers, I knew that when a guy took a cheap, stupid shot, logic was not involved. I felt my lip curl, but tried not to snarl. "Of course you would still have the problem. Just because I happened to find the problem doesn't mean that if I didn't exist, the problem wouldn't exist." I waited for him to get his breathing in order or die from hyperventilation. I hoped for the latter.

  Craig spouted what might have been an attempt at a half-apology. "No one means to be nasty." He put a hand on Rob's arm.

  My manager tapped his pen along his leg and looked like a gaping fish.

  "So, uh," Craig said. "You, uh, what should we do next?"

  I had a lot of suggestions, but because the dead server was a better insult than anything I could propose, I said, "How about you fix the problem, I'll test it, and we can give the fix to the customer."

/>   "The temperature thing too or just the power supply feature?" Craig asked.

  "If the customer enters an invalid temperature, it shouldn't crater that way." Meanwhile, I was wondering how to persuade Jacques to let me tell the Kronology customer to purchase a different server. Maybe I wouldn't wait for Jacques to grant me permission. He hadn't exactly been supportive here.

  "Uh, yeah," Craig nodded.

  This seemed to signal Jacques to get his mouth moving again. He uttered polite noises about how glad he was that they came to see us. Craig followed his lead and echoed the sentiment, shuffling Rob toward the door.

  Rob still looked mad enough to throw something. I deduced that my buddy Rob needed anger management classes. He was probably the main reason that nothing would ever get fixed.

  I could have followed them to demand a concrete schedule for getting the "feature" added, but that would have been bitchy.

  I turned the server back on. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Radar watching. He smiled, a really amused grin. "Are they coming back?"

  "I doubt it, why?"

  "Looked like you had them won over completely, your new best friends."

  I gave him my best glare. "Any progress on your end?"

  He swung his head back and forth, making sure no one was nearby. "Some things are harder than others. With all the tagged files, it's a mine field. Limited excavation looks like some direct deposit numbers are going into the same accounts. I'll keep you posted." He started to turn away, but Bill appeared from behind the server racks.

  We both looked at him, wondering if he had overheard.

  Radar said, "That one guy was really warming up to you. He'll probably fix all the bugs now."

  As cover, Radar's remark wasn't much, especially since there had been no warmth whatsoever from any of the Kronology folks. We both watched Bill for any kind of reaction, but he just said, "I'll bet not even Aphrodite could get them to fix it."

  What did that mean?

  Radar noticed the confusion on my face and said, "Character in one of the games from last weekend. Powerful."