In most circles, JCT is the golden boy who can do no wrong and the company received very handsome rewards and perks for their efforts and services. The primary reason that Turner was invited into Alliance membership was his firm's role in weapon technology. This was not, however, the only attention JCT garnered.
45. VETTING EMPLOYEES
Retired from public office, John's JCT headquarters were located on the fourteenth floor of the Chesapeake Building in downtown Santa Barbara, where Mary-Anne Wheeler ruled the roost over a dedicated staff. Dedication wasn't easy or cheap. The Senator (many continued to call him "Senator") required a high level of commitment, in the form of privacy and discretion, but he could justify the expense that this policy required. The price tag associated with these benefits was covered by billing customers. When contracts ranged in the tens of millions, no one paid much attention to a million, here or there.
When his company was in a position to hire someone, a tremendous amount of vetting occurred. Initial questionnaires could often spotlight a can of worms, problematic later on, and John did not want ‘sleeper’ radicals in the organization.
Anyone who managed to get past the questionnaire and submitted a formal job application was without knowing it, submitting their name, birthdate, social security number, addresses, email, phone numbers and any other useful tag to a security machine that would dig into their past way beyond the typical background check.
It would search for current and past personal relationships, associations, memberships, social groups, college clubs, and fraternities or sororities, along with transcription records. Mining social media sites brought significant characteristics to the forefront. There were times when, after hanging out in a neighborhood bar a few times for a few weeks under the guise of being "new in the neighborhood", an investigator might probe the bartender or waitress for hints about a person’s attitudes, their feelings about politics, terrorism, the President, the police, or any number of topics that might shed light on facets of personality.
Primarily, one reason for this amount of caution and security procedures existed when it came to human resources and JCT. Justified Control Technologies was certainly about control. The primary engine for this firm was some very small, but vital hardware components that were responsible for both arming and activating trigger systems in the latest high-tech and sophisticated weaponry. The components were cleverly designed in hardware profiles, and the software that managed them operated with a subset of language, buried within other programs. In essence, these processes could not be easily separated and identified from other programs in the bigger system. It was binary camouflage. All of this made the company's security paramount.
JCT’s predecessor, Electronic Regulators, had shoved a foot across the threshold at the Department of Defense, and contractual relationships had begun. Under Justified Control, the product lines were expanded and polished with the Senator at the helm. He acquired top software programmers and administrative staff and paid them handsomely to secure their dedication and diligence, and almost everyone was happy.
46. ALLIANCE ASSISTANCE
Mary-Anne knew the names of a few of John's friends in high places. No longer working in the public office realm, she still perused the occasional report left out on his desk. No big deal. Files about business mergers, IPO's and other stuff. Sometimes they related to JCT and new contract business. In the course of business a few days a week, she occasionally heard parts of his side of phone conversations. Sometimes politics, sometimes JCT business. It seemed like a Mr. Moore or Mr. Hamilton called often, and they received deferential treatment, but he didn’t share details about those calls, and always signaled her for privacy when they occurred.
‘Almost everyone was happy' with Justified Control took a turn when others wanted to enjoy a piece of the pie. Knocks on the door, phone calls that were not responded to with overtures of welcome. The typical staff reply to requests for certain products was either an apology for ‘items on back order’, a requested requirement for letters of agreement from one D.O.D office or another, or simply that JCT products were not available outside of current contracts.
The Senator received updates and alerts from Mary-Anne regarding these requests, especially when she felt pushed. His common reply: "I'll take care of it." Not knowing how he did that wasn’t important. She knew that there was one less knock on the door, one less phone call. It had been easy to move on and not worry about what transpired or how they lost interest in JCT.
47. CINDY
Cindy wanted to be an actor but she didn't want to live in L.A. As a student at the University of California, Santa Barbara, she figured that living in Santa Barbara would be close enough to Hollywood to be in range, without having to actually live there. She met Patty in a drama class they shared, and like Patty, she wanted to live off campus. Together, they found an apartment. A few months later, it dawned on Cindy that landing a role that could get her noticed would take more time than expected and might be a long shot, at best. Both women shared frustrations with their acting dreams and spent evenings chatting about auditions, workshops, chances.
"Hey, Patty," Cindy suggested one evening, "let's dress up, go out for drink, maybe dinner. I know money's tight, but we can work it out. I want to see if we can get lucky, maybe meet some movers and shakers in the entertainment business."
"You're not kidding, money's tight!" Patty responded, "If my tips don't get better, I'm going to start bringing home doggy bags from customer's plates!"
"We're gonna be okay," Cindy shot back. "My folks are still committed to helping me. They just sent me a birthday check. I'll buy."
"Well hell, if you're buying, I'm in!" Patty grinned. "I could use a drink and some good food."
They called a cab, directed it to take them to the local yacht club lounge, and on the way, Cindy suggested that even if the place turned out to be less productive than expected, they could still ask around, maybe learn where the good fishing holes were located.
There were, in fact, some deep pockets in the yacht club membership's Bermuda shorts. The young women lucked into a window table in the lounge, sipped from a first glass of champagne, when two men in their thirties entered. The men veered to a table close by and after a friendly "Hi!" was returned by the gals, they invited Cindy and Patty to join them for a cocktail.
They agreed, joining the two enthusiastic bachelors and had a second glass of wine, which led to dinner together. Cindy and Patty kept their stories simple and brief, focusing on campus life. When their dinner hosts suggested more evening activities, they put off an immediate response, created one of those team restroom breaks, and conferred.
"Music and dancing would be fun," Patty urged, "and Andy is cute!"
"He is..., and we agreed to go wading, Patty," Cindy said, touching up her lip gloss. "The pool feels good, but more drinking and we might finish in the deep end! Let's slow things down. We can always work to make that happen on another date."
"Yeah, Cin, you're right, I know, but whaddya think of Tom? Do you like him?"
"He seems a little too stuffy for me. Not as nice as Andy."
"Yeah, I think you're right. Okay. You ready?"
Cindy nodded and they left the restroom, returned to the table.
When Tom revisited the idea of music and dancing, they politely declined, but gladly accepted the idea of ‘another time’ and provided their phone numbers.
Back home, they were giddy. The evening didn't cost them any money after the price of their first drinks and the taxicabs. The only other investment was their time, and the dividends were fertile fishing grounds.
A week later, after soul-searching deliberations, Cindy returned to the yacht club for an interview appointment. Her intention, to secure a job in the lounge. She wore a modest amount of make-up and dressed nicely, with just enough cleavage to impress upon the manager that she would be a lovely asset to the place. This is a game that a woman sometimes needed to play, and considering her candid admi
ssion that she had no experience serving cocktails, it was her lucky day. She returned to the apartment with a new job.
Cindy's charm and honest sweetness was a glow that billowed around her. On her fourth evening shift, she drew the attention of one of the club's eminent members.
◆◆◆
John had spent the afternoon fiddling around on the Mantis, and planned on a relaxed, early evening in the lounge, having a drink, maybe an appetizer.
"May I bring you a cocktail, Sir?"
"Hey! You're new here. I'm John. What's your name?"
"I'm Cindy. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
"Well, let's start on the right foot, Cindy. Please call me John. Will you bring me a Basil Hayden, neat?"
"Certainly, John, anything else?"
"That's good for now, Cindy."
A couple minutes later, she returned to the table, "Here you are, John."
◆◆◆
"Thank you, Cindy. So, how do you like the job?"
"I'm loving it, John. Still learning, but I'm catching on. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for you." She smiled, walked back toward the bar, thoughtful. John's quite a bit older than me, maybe sixty? He's certainly a charmer.
Before leaving the club and heading home, John asked Cindy if she'd join him for dinner sometime.
"I just barely started here. I don't want to lose my job!"
"You don't have to worry about that. I've got some pull around here."
"Well, in that case, I'd love to, John."
A few nights later, he arrived at her apartment, parked out front and rang the doorbell.
48. DINNER AT THE SAVOY
John held open the door of a dark SUV, and Cindy stepped in. He walked around, got into the driver's seat, and they drove out of the neighborhood.
"So why did you decide to leave Ohio, Cindy, and why pick Santa Barbara?"
"Well, I suppose this will sound cliché," she glanced over to watch John's expression. "I moved to Southern California to be an actor."
He only nodded, no look in her direction.
"I enjoyed growing up in Ohio," she continued, "but when I got the acting bug, I knew I had to move here or New York. California seemed like a friendlier direction."
"That makes perfect sense," he replied, "and I think you made the right decision. New York is a wonderful city, but it's a much harder place to move to without established connections. Had any luck so far? Any auditions?"
"No luck yet," she said. "I've been checking for openings regularly but it's going to take longer than I thought. I'm wondering if I should have moved directly to Los Angeles. I'm sort of scared to do that and thought Santa Barbara might be a good transition, but now I'm not sure."
"Don't give up," he replied in confidence. "If your heart is set on acting, you'll act."
After a few moments of silence, John asked what kinds of food she liked to eat and if she liked drinking wine. She informed him that she ate just about anything and enjoyed red wine. He responded by telling her that he’d take her to one of his favorite spots, and fifteen minutes later, they were parking downtown. A half block away, they entered The Savoy. Inside the door, they were greeted, informed that their table was ready, and shown to it by the maître'd. As Cindy was sitting, the host assisting with her chair, John placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Cindy," John asked, "would you mind if I ordered a couple things?"
"That would be wonderful."
◆◆◆
"Marco," John turned his head, "would you have the kitchen turn an order of stuffed mushrooms," he paused, "and the skewered filet mignon bites, I think."
"Very good, sir," Marco replied. "Something to drink?"
"Yes. Bring us a bottle of that vintage Chateauneuf-du-Pape. You know the one."
"Excellent, sir. We'll have the wine here in moments." Marco went toward the kitchen. John was as certain of the food he ordered as he was about the Rhone region's wine. Rich in bouquet and billowing with dark fruit and softer, peppery tones, he had never experienced a bad bottle. As for the hors d'oeuvres, he'd watch Cindy eating to know what she thought about them.
The meat was delicious and tender as expected, cooked just to medium rare, but came in second, compared to the stuffed mushrooms which were a house specialty for good reason.
These just bite-sized white mushrooms were stuffed with shaved bits of bison steak that had been braised in a Madeira, tossed with a sprinkling of dried parmesan and roasted garlic, and delivered warm on a small platter.
Barely had the plates hit the table when the intoxicating aroma called to them like sirens off a foggy bank. The flavor, a decadently rich blend of the wine-accented meat, brightened by the sharpened and salty marriage of the garlic and cheese.
As they sipped and nibbled these heady introductions to the evening, mutual delight took root, and neither could easily recall later what else was consumed or discussed.
The night ended with the early morning hours, and John drove them back to the apartment building where she lived. They'd been laughing, talking about Kubrick's classic friend Dr. Strangelove, as he drove up to the building, pulled over to the curb in front.
"I want to thank you for your kindness to an old man."
◆◆◆
"John, I don't know how old you are, but that doesn't matter. This was the most wonderful evening I've had in a very long time! Thank you."
"Well," he replied, "if it was as good for you as it was for me, I'd suggest a follow up in the near future. Would you be up for the sequel?"
"Absolutely," Cindy laughed. "Sometimes sequels don't hold up to the original, but I think we'd have another hit on our hands!" With that, she reached over to squeeze his forearm where it rested on the center console, and he turned his arm to take her hand. A moment passed, their eyes locked on each other. Is he going to kiss me? Come on, John! She smiled.
◆◆◆
Would she mind if I kissed her? She has a radiant smile. He hesitated, bouncing a smile back. Cindy broke the spell, turned to look and reaching over, hooked the door handle. John turned, reached to opened his own door, but Cindy held his hand.
"Thank you, John. I know you're a gentleman, but I don't need you to walk me to the door. If you'll watch me get in, that will be great."
"Alright." He smiled, nodded. "I'm going to call you tomorrow, if that's okay."
"I'd love that, John..." as she extended her arm to open the door. "We can talk about our evening, because to tell the truth, I'm not certain what happened tonight. It feels like a blur."
Cindy stepped out, turned back to look at him through the open door.
"G'night John. Thank you again!" She shut the door, walked to the building's entrance, entered the code to unlock the door. Just before she stepped over the threshold, she turned her head, smiled and waved, and as he reciprocated, she disappeared behind the closing door.
◆◆◆
"Well...? How was it?" The inquiry was accented by Patty's arched eyebrows, her head angled to the side, but Cindy couldn't see her, had barely stepped into the apartment from the common hall.
"Was he nice? I can't wait to hear about it!"
Cindy careened a little as she walked down the short hallway into the living room where Patty sat waiting on the sofa. Dressed in lounge pants and a t-shirt, she had the TV on, but was ready for bed, waiting for news.
"It was great!" Cindy spouted, plopping down into the over-stuffed chair. "We had the most amazing dinner. Oh-my-god! As soon as we got to our table, John ordered a bottle of wine and some hors d'oeuvres, and after that, I'm not sure what happened."
Patty watched Cindy's face, waiting for more, but Cindy's eyes seemed to lack focus.
"So, you drank some wine... maybe a second bottle?" Those eyebrows again.
"Yup!" Cindy’s face cracked into a big grin.
"Sounds like fun. So, what's he do?" Patty continued the grilling.
"Well," Cindy's eyes found brief respite from the fog, "he us
ed to be a Senator..."
"Wow!" Patty barged in, "Seriously?" Her mouth hung open, ready for another bite to chew.
"I'm pretty sure." Cindy paused, kicking off one, then another of her heels as she looked over at the TV. "I mean, I didn't ask to see his I.D. or anything... but he's certainly sophisticated."
"So, what'd you guys talk about? Is he married?"
"I'm not sure," Cindy replied, still turned to face the television. "He mentioned the name 'Gloria' a couple times, but didn't seem like he was hiding anything or slipped up, saying her name. I didn't ask who she was."
"What's he do now?" Patty's curiosity remained unabated.
"He owns some kind of electronics company," Cindy continued. "They make computer equipment for farming, engine controls, stuff like that." She turned back to look at Patty. "To tell you the truth, those things don't make much sense to me. All I know is, you push a button, things are supposed to do what you want." She rolled her eyes, returned them to the screen.
Patty sat still, waiting, hoping for more, looking over at her room-mate, but Cindy had stopped talking. Her focus had shifted to Johnny Depp, who at the moment, was in the midst of doing his best comedic pirate.
◆◆◆
That evening led to several sequels and their relationship soon included holding hands, walking arm in arm or around waists, and with occasional, affectionate kisses. John asked a few questions about Cindy's apartment living and about Patty, but Cindy explained that she and Patty were both protective of each other's personal privacy. When asked about it, she assured John that she had no current love interest, no boyfriend on the side, and that seemed to satisfy him.
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