Devil's Move

by Leslie Wolfe

  How does he know when to come in? Alex wondered for a split second before remembering that everything was under strict video and audio surveillance. They knew everything and heard everything.

  “Sit down, Ms. Hoffmann,” Bal said as he took a seat.

  “I prefer to stand,” Alex responded almost defiantly, “I have some serious work to do, so I’m a little pressed for time. I hope you understand.”

  “What is your mandate here, Ms. Hoffmann?”

  “Oh? I thought you knew,” Alex answered, surprised by the question. “I am responsible for software quality and scope validation. Before DCBI can close the contract, I need to sign off on the software from a quality and scope perspective. I will evaluate the software to make sure it meets all the specs and does exactly what it’s supposed to do, and that it is bug free and working smoothly. That’s what my mandate is,” she said, still standing and ready to leave.

  “We didn’t manage to make you gain any confidence in our company’s ability to deliver the highest quality software, after all you have seen?” Bal asked, his eyes drilling into hers angrily.

  “You have absolutely succeeded in that goal, Mr. Bal, because otherwise you wouldn’t have been awarded this contract in the first place. You see, having me see these presentations is a waste of my time and not what I came here to do.”

  Bal stood and started walking slowly, approaching her. When he was within inches of her face, close enough that she could smell his sweat, he said, “India is very different from America, Ms. Hoffmann. Many things in India are dangerous to Americans coming here. They could eat the wrong thing, be in the wrong part of town, say the wrong thing, and any such thing can kill them within minutes. Our commitment was to show you not only how trustworthy we are, but also how to keep you safe and out of trouble. We would hate to have to ship you home in one of those metallic caskets. It has happened before, you know...Cholera here is rampant. I hope you understand,” he finished speaking so close to her face that she felt his breath touch her skin. That made her sick, sicker than the actual threat.

  “Are you threatening me, Mr. Bal?” Alex asked, holding his dominating gaze staring her down with contempt.

  “I am warning you, that is all. Warning you of the many dangers of India, Ms. Hoffmann.”

  “Well, consider me warned. Now, when can I get access to the code?”

  Bal turned around angrily and left the room without responding. Alex felt a slight moment of pride for not being the one to break eye contact first, securing a small victory for her ego. Then reality overwhelmed her. Holy shit! What am I gonna do? He’s gonna kill me!

  She wanted to sit down badly, to steady her trembling knees and shaking hands. She remembered the video surveillance and decided not to give the viewer the satisfaction. She took her things and went straight for the elevator, heading for the roof, for a breath of hot, humid air and a place where she could call Tom.

  There weren’t many people on the roof yet; lunch break had not yet started. She took her cell phone equipped with the SatSleeve and dialed Tom’s number from memory.

  “Well, hello stranger,” he picked up immediately, although it was late at night in sunny California.

  “Hey,” she whispered and felt tears burning her eyes when she heard his voice.

  “What’s wrong?” Tom asked. He had an uncanny way of knowing immediately when something was bothering her, no matter how far away she was.

  “I’m not getting anything done,” she said, getting a grip on her emotions. “I’ve been here how long, and I haven’t even seen a line of code. All they do is stonewall me, and, more recently, threaten me.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Just your typical threats, not even very creative. India is dangerous, people die here, and all that crap. I’m not overly impressed; we knew that was coming. I’m just frustrated I can’t break through and see any lines of that damn code.”

  “I understand,” Tom said quietly. “What do you want to do?”

  “Well, after today’s threats, I think diplomacy has failed, don’t you agree? I will crank this up a notch, see what happens. Let’s rattle the cages, see what snakes crawl out.”

  He didn’t say anything for a while. “Be very careful, Alex. I don’t need to repeat that, do I?”

  “No, you don’t. I will, I promise.”

  She hung up, a tear-filled knot still in her throat. She swallowed hard and headed for the roof access door, regaining control of her emotions. Damn these assholes!

  ...Chapter 67: Strategy Session

  ...Sunday, August 7, 3:38PM Local Time (UTC+3:00 hours)

  ...CANWE Headquarters

  ...Undisclosed Location, Greece

  The Aquarium lit up and filled with people for the second time in less than two weeks. Things were heating up, and Myatlev wanted to make sure his council members’ support stayed active and focused.

  As soon as the last of his guests took a seat, Myatlev polarized the glass walls, turning them an impenetrable milky white that reflected the strong lights within the Aquarium.

  “Thank you all for taking yet another Sunday away from your families to meet with me,” Myatlev said. He had a gift for addressing people, making it standard to thank everyone for their time. After all, time spent you can never recover; it’s the most precious gift someone can give. He continued, “As you might have heard, we have made an important step forward in our plans. Our preferred candidate for president of America has been nominated by his party, which means we are now on our final stretch.”

  Myatlev looked at everyone at the table. They were watching him intently but were very guarded and neutral. Singh was the only one whose body language showed some openness and support. It was normal; after all, he knew a little bit more than anyone else. They needed a show of trust.

  “Because we have reached this milestone in our plan, I wanted to share with you our progress.”

  “Mr. Myatlev, if you please,” Javadi interrupted, “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t call it ‘our plan,’ considering how little we all know about it. It’s insulting. It is your plan, and you only feed us crumbs of it when you see fit. I personally find it harder and harder to believe in it. I find it humiliating to be treated like children, when we have put our lives and fortunes at stake for this plan of yours.”

  “I see,” Myatlev answered, unperturbed. “I understand how this secrecy must make you feel, and I sincerely apologize. But today is the day of revelations, so I am hoping you will have more confidence in the plan by the time we finish.”

  Myatlev touched the console in front of him, and the Aquarium walls turned transparent again. They saw a man being screened by Myatlev’s security, just as everyone else had been on their arrival. As soon as the man was cleared, he joined them inside the Aquarium, and Myatlev instantly polarized the walls back to full opacity.

  “Gentlemen, please let me introduce Mr. Warren Helms,” Myatlev said. The stranger bowed slightly and continued to stand, ignoring the open seat at the table. Singh started to extend his hand, but Myatlev stopped him.

  “No further introductions will be necessary, for our own security. Mr. Helms understands and will not be offended.”

  Helms nodded to confirm.

  “Mr. Helms has been helping us for a while,” Myatlev said. “He has been making things happen in the United States. Things, such as getting the right people in the right places, making sure we stay informed with decisions made in political and business circles, orchestrating any actions that needed to be taken.”

  “Could you be any more vague, Myatlev? This is ludicrous!” Javadi said angrily, slamming his palm down on the table.

  “All right, I will then translate for you,” Myatlev answered. “Mr. Helms made sure the current vice president, Mark Sheridan, will want to retire after his mandate expires. He ensured that Bobby Johnson has the best campaign manager on the market. He has placed our ears and eyes inside DCBI, the company that owns the contract to deploy the new e-
voting system in America this November. Need I say more?”

  Javadi pursed his lips for a second.

  “No. I get the picture.”

  The other members of the council seemed impressed as well, except for Singh, who just continued to look smug.

  “But isn’t DCBI outsourcing the contract to India?” Sadiq asked. “Do we have a finger in that?”

  “No,” Myatlev answered very seriously, “we have our whole hand. Thanks to Mr. Singh, we have control over the facility where the software is being developed. Losing access to the voter database was a blow, but the plan is still viable. If you recall, there was an amendment, recently ratified, to eliminate the scanning of voter registration cards using the devices, which would have placed a database of almost all American citizens, their personal information, and their political preferences in our hands. We lost access to that; it couldn’t be helped. Nevertheless, we are, from all other perspectives, in control of the American presidential elections coming this November, to the point where I can promise you, gentlemen, Bobby Johnson is the new American president. And we own him.”

  He paused for a while, looking around the table to see the effect of his words on the audience. “We, the five of us here, own the future president of the United States of America. I hope this qualifies as a good plan for this council. I hope you will agree and continue to support it as the initiative that will help this council reach its goal.”

  Javadi was the first to offer his support.

  “OK, I am convinced. Still don’t know why you didn’t trust us with the details earlier, but this strategy and the way we are executing it seems to be working.”

  Sadiq nodded, while Singh remained impassible.

  “I would have preferred to be aware of the details sooner,” Shah said, still bothered. His ego suffered, most likely. He had been excluded from knowing all the details, and he probably found that offensive, demeaning, and humiliating. Shah knew how to keep secrets, and he had hoped he would be fully trusted, as a real partner would be. That hadn’t been the case, and it still bothered him quite visibly. Inside every powerful man lies a powerful ego. Shah was no exception.

  “I understand that some of you might be offended by my choice to play this very close, and I have to apologize for that,” Myatlev stated. “I am hoping that what we are going to achieve will help you overcome that. I recognize we haven’t been full partners in the early stages of the plan, but I can promise you right now,” he said firmly, while solemnly placing his right hand on his chest, “we will be full partners in reaping the results of this plan and building the strategic blueprint of tomorrow’s distribution of power in the world. I promise you that.”

  No one spoke for a few seconds; Helms continued to stand quietly.

  “Why is Mr. Helms joining us today?” Singh asked.

  “I will let him explain,” Myatlev said. “Mr. Helms?”

  “There’s something you need to be aware of,” he started to say. “We have only three months left until Election Day, and there is a big difference in the polls between the two leading candidates. Krassner, the Republican, has the lead in the polls at 51 percent, while Johnson, the Democrat, only has 28 percent. The rest is spread across other candidates at much lower values.”

  “Your point? We all know that,” Singh said.

  “We need to be more aggressive in demolishing Krassner’s support. So far, we have focused on building up Johnson, and we didn’t touch Krassner. I need you to authorize the level at which I can intervene.”

  “What are you saying?” Shah asked.

  “We could do many things. Discredit him, play dirty but still engage almost entirely lawful actions, or at the other end of the spectrum, we could eliminate him altogether. Mr. Myatlev had suggested I ask for the council’s guidance before choosing a method.”

  “We can’t kill him,” Javadi said, “That’s for sure.”

  “Why the hell not?” Sadiq pushed back. “I’d say time is too damn short to do anything else. Only three months left until November.”

  “We’d generate a shit storm of unprecedented proportions and unforeseeable consequences,” Javadi said. “If this plan of ours is subjected to an unpredictable tornado of reactions, it’s going to fail. We’ll lose control of it.”

  “He could also have a car accident or a stroke,” Helms offered. “With a little bit of work he can have that accident in full daylight, witnesses present, and no room for any doubt.”

  Silence engulfed the room as everyone considered the option.

  “Mr. Helms, I am glad you are on our side,” Singh said after a while. “But can you get near him?”

  “It will take some work. He’s very well guarded; he just received his own Secret Service detail. This only makes it hard, not impossible.”

  “Huh,” Singh said thoughtfully.

  “I am in favor of an accident,” Sadiq said.

  “I have no doubt,” Javadi responded sarcastically.

  “Gentlemen,” Myatlev said, “I’d like to propose a compromise. Why don’t we allow Mr. Helms to work his magic and discredit Krassner to the best of his abilities, lawfully or not. We can offer him a month, maybe six weeks at the most. If that fails, we can always get him to step down, which I think would be better than killing him.”

  “You are soft, Myatlev, very soft,” Sadiq said, contempt filling his voice.

  “And you are nothing but a small-minded butcher,” Singh said. “You are in such a hurry to kill one man, when you could be wise and wait.”

  “I agree,” Javadi offered. “Myatlev’s approach makes sense to me.”

  “He’s got my support as well. It’s just a good business decision, that’s all,” Shah said.

  “Then we’re set?” Singh asked.

  “Yes,” Myatlev confirmed. “Mr. Helms, you have your orders.”

  Helms nodded and left the room without delay.

  “One thing bothers me,” Sadiq said. “You had the opportunity to gain access to the devices, and you forfeited that in favor of some software deal and stealing a database? Why?” Sadiq asked. “Just think of what you could have done with the devices! Load them with C4, detonate all of them at the same time in a majestic attack of unprecedented greatness and effectiveness, and kill millions! How could you not see that opportunity, Myatlev? How could you give up access to the devices?”

  “I never said I gave that up. Yes, we also control the devices, and at some point in the future, the plan will include them. I promise you will be satisfied, Mr. Sadiq.”

  ...Chapter 68: Blocked Access

  ...Wednesday, August 10, 10:03AM Local Time (UTC+5:30 hours)

  ...ERamSys Headquarters

  ...New Delhi, India

  Alex opened the main entrance door, bracing for the temperature shock from the intense air conditioning. On her way to the elevator, a lovely receptionist greeted her with a charming smile. She found harder and harder to see value in her presence in the New Delhi office of ERamSys, but she couldn’t leave either. This is where the secret was. This is where she could uncover the conspiracy, or at least a solid lead to it. Yet, her entire plan to rattle their cages had proven very ineffective. Every day she had been more demanding, more insisting, yet she had gained access to precisely nothing. She had been almost rude sometimes, provoking Bal and his team, and had gotten nothing but passive-aggressive bullshit, more PowerPoint presentations on the benefits of India outsourcing and the high quality of their work, and more lies. In short, she had made zero progress. Even Scott and Brent, the other two DCBI representatives onsite, had been unable to offer any useful advice. They were performing their work well, without any hindrances. But then again, their work did not touch the actual code. That simple fact, in itself, was a clue.

  Then she changed tactics. She had approached the issue indirectly, trying to engage in conversations with the smokers on the roof, but everyone turned suspiciously silent at any mention of the code. She had found a sort of a friend in Priya, but even she wo
uldn’t disclose anything, or couldn’t. Her laptop continued to operate on a network completely isolated from the development environment, and any attempt she made to gain access to the rest of the network raised Bal immediately, no matter what time of day she attempted to penetrate the security. He even showed up immediately if she spent any extent of time behind one of the developers on the floor when they were working, or when she chatted with any of them. She was effectively locked out, and Bal seemed to be on premises 24/7, needing no sleep.

  She looked across the software development floor, wondering what else she could try. While evaluating her options, she let her eyes wander. She continued to be surprised at the differences between genders in India. Men dressed almost like Americans, in shirts and slacks, sometimes wearing suits and ties. Women had preserved the traditional attire almost intact, opting for one of the two main styles, the sari, with its ample draping of colorful, shiny fabric, and the shalwar kameez, with its pajama-like pants that had to be very comfortable to wear in the brutal heat.

  Since she had landed in Delhi, she had learned to appreciate the local clothing wisdom, especially the strict preference for cotton fabrics. In the humid heat, cotton kept her cooler and drier than any Western polyester fiber mix. Smart. Women here were very smart, she had observed, focused more on practical things, while their men were absorbed by their immense egos and illusions of superiority. One time, she had asked Priya why such intelligent, apt women resigned themselves to allow these men to treat them as if they were inferior beings, many times like servants. Priya had been confused by the question at first, but then she had said it was their custom, the way they had been raised. They loved their culture and their men as they were. They knew no other way.

  Alex opened the door to her office and sat down in front of her desk phone. An idea was starting to form in her mind. What would an employee in her situation do? The answer was simple. Call her boss.