“Hello, this is Bill Larry at Avogadro. My deactivation passcode is O-S-T-F-V-3-9-4-1.” Bill had to yell over the helicopter noise. “I need to shut down the robots at ODC4.”
“Sorry, please repeat your passcode.”
“O-S-T-F-V-3-9-4-1. I’m Bill Larry at Avogadro. I need to shut down the defense robots so I can land at my facility.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t have any matching records. Can you please give me your vendor ID?”
Bill sighed in exasperation and wondered what more could go wrong with his day. He swiped through the records on his tablet until he found the information, provided the asked-for ID and waited.
“I’m truly sorry, but I don’t have a listing for that ID. Are you sure you have a contract with us?”
“Jesus effing…” He hit mute, cursed loudly and at length, and then continued the conversation. After more unhelpful back-and-forth discussion with the agent, he asked for a supervisor and got transferred over to a Ms. Claire.
“Mister Larry,” Ms. Claire said, after a few minutes of research. “We’re no longer under contract to handle your defenses. Of course we provided the hardware, and we were administering through December thirty-one, but as of the first of this year, we turned the controls over to you.”
“Not possible,” Bill said. “There’s got to be a mistake.”
It took another fifteen minutes on the phone with Ms. Claire for Bill to gradually puzzle out that iRobot thought Avogadro had renegotiated the contract. Bill was sure this wasn’t the case, but he couldn’t help wracking his head, wondering if someone had gone around him. They’d just put the system in place a few weeks earlier. It didn’t make any sense that the contract had changed already. Had they been hacked? Bill’s head started to pound as he continued the argument over the crappy satellite connection and roar of the helicopter.
George gestured toward the barge, visible now, asking whether he should proceed. Bill shook his head no.
Bill checked his tablet and found the number for a vice president, Robert O’Day, at iRobot, one of the guys he had worked with on the contract. Bill hung up on Ms. Claire and called Robert. He remembered Robert as being intensely focused and wickedly smart. He’d get this issue resolved. Robert’s administrative assistant said he was already on an urgent teleconference, but offered that Robert could call Bill back within ten minutes.
So Bill waited over the Pacific ocean, a thousand feet up, a hundred-and-five-decibel engine just above his head, burning a gallon a minute of high performance aviation fuel.
Seven minutes later the phone rang, and Bill punched the button to answer. Bill struggled to keep his voice under control as he demanded O’Day explain what was going on. While the pilot had the helicopter circling around ODC 4 in gentle circles, O’Day confirmed that, indeed, iRobot had installed additional automation and turned the administration of those defenses over to Avogadro.
Craning his head to look at the floating barge, Bill raised a pair of binoculars. New antennas bristled from the rooftop, satellite dishes pointed into the sky, and line-of-sight microwave cones aimed at the horizon. More worrying were the long black barrels directed skyward. What the heck were those?
George circled the platform at a distance, but after a few rotations, Bill just wished he’d keep the helicopter in one place. Yelling over the noise, he asked O’Day if there was anyway to override the robots. If he couldn’t get the problem solved, he’d be forced to fly back to the office to figure out what was going on, then return in the afternoon.
O’Day assured him there wasn’t any override for security reasons. The point of handing off administration was to insure full control of the command software they’d provided to interface with the robots resided in Avogadro’s hands.
As Bill argued with iRobot, George “Punch” Gonzales continued to circle around. He did it more out of boredom than anything else, since he could’ve easily engaged the auto-hover to maintain their location. After twenty years of flying helicopters for the Marines, George wasn’t inclined to engage the autopilot and tune out. He liked to keep his hands on the stick.
On one of these slow rotations around the ODC, George came a little closer to the platform. He glanced again at the fuel gauge, and noticed the long holding pattern had them coming up on their halfway point. George turned to ask Bill how much longer they planned to stay. While he was looking backwards, the helicopter crossed into the invisible perimeter defined by the robotic defenses. Since he wasn’t looking out the windshield, George, who just might have recognized them for what they were, missed the flash of large-caliber machine guns firing. Bill, stooped and head down, struggled to hear the other end of the line and understand how the administration of the robots could have been bungled so badly.
In less than a quarter of a second, the .50 caliber machine gun rounds traversed the distance to the helicopter, bisected the cabin and found the fuel supply. The helicopter exploded and bits of shrapnel screamed through the air in all directions, before falling, sizzling, into the water.
Chapter 10
David tried to turn down another cup of coffee, but Mike was having none of his protests.
“It’s Peruvian. The beans were roasted yesterday.”
David took a sip as Gene came in and dropped heavily into the remaining chair. His stomach was tied in too many knots to enjoy the coffee, but he distantly noted the flavor was extraordinary.
Slumped back, Gene related the discussion with his manager. “Sorry. I never anticipated losing all credibility within my department. If we go to anyone else in management, and we should, you’ll have to take point. You technical boys at least are respected by these folks.”
“Sorry, dude,” Mike said, clapping the older man on the shoulder, his face lined deeply in dismay. “Thank you for making the attempt.”
“Me too,” David added. “They’re crazy to not appreciate your work. We wouldn’t have any idea what was going on without your investigation.”
“The key to this is Gary’s Communication Products Division,” Mike said. “Gary might be unreachable, but he’s not the only decision maker.”
“Right. The Marketing manager, her name is...Linda Fletcher,” David said. “She’s Gary’s number two. Let’s find out who the Legal representative is, and bring Legal in. If we can convince them of the risk, maybe they’ll put a stop to the whole project.”
“Legal advises businesses on risks,” Gene said. “Technically they can’t force anyone to do anything. The business manager must weigh tradeoffs, including Legal’s opinions, and make a decision. But I agree, we should bring them in. The fear of litigation will cause the lawyers to side with us.”
“Let’s go,” Mike said.
David reached for his computer to check Linda’s calendar, then stopped himself. Habits were hard to break.
Walking down the hallway with Mike and Gene in tow, he asked the admin of the next group over to find the location of Linda Fletcher’s office, and her admin’s name. They crossed the campus, traversing a skybridge with hand-blown glass art in the shape of native fish hanging in the windows, and then another skyway in the form of a miniature version of the Ponte Santa Trinita, before finally arriving at Building 7a. They found Linda’s admin, a young guy by the name of Nathan, at his desk outside her office.
“Sorry, Linda’s in a critical conference. You should have sent a meeting request.”
Gene pulled out his badge, showing he worked for Controls and Compliance. “It’s urgent.”
“Let me put your names on her calendar and find an open slot.”
“Wait—” David said. “No names.”
“No names?” Nathan asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Absolutely no names,” Gene said. “The meeting is extremely sensitive. Just schedule the time.”
Nathan’s jaw hung open for a second before he reluctantly set his shoulders. “Fine, a meeting with no attendees. Can I give it a name?”
David wondered what wouldn’t arose su
spicion but would ensure Linda took it seriously. “Just put down ‘critical system stability.’ Also, I need you to invite the Legal rep.”
“You mean Tim Wright?” Nathan asked. His raised eyebrows and tilted head left no doubt he still found their whole request dubious.
“Yes,” David said. “What’s the earliest you’ve got?”
Nathan checked the calendar. “I can get you a half hour next Tuesday.”
“No, it’s got to be today.”
Nathan shook his head firmly. “No can do. Linda will kill me. I’m not kidding. Since she came back from holiday break she’s been putting in sixteen hour days on this new project.”
“What project?” Mike asked.
“I can’t say. Super confidential. Just like your meeting is sensitive.” He smiled in slight triumph. “How about Friday?”
“Look kid,” Gene said, “people’s jobs and more are on the line. Be straight with us, what’s the earliest possible time we can meet?”
Nathan rolled his eyes. “Everything’s urgent,” he said, mumbling to himself. “I can bump Janet…” He glanced up. “I can get you in tomorrow after lunch.”
David frowned at him.
“Tomorrow after lunch,” Nathan repeated. “That’s the absolute best I can do. Between the Legal meetings, the PR folks…” Nathan trailed off. “Forget I said anything, please.”
“Fine, set it up for tomorrow,” Gene said. He started to turn away and then returned. “Kid, I can see from your face that as soon as we leave here, you want to walk down the hallway to gossip about this. Don’t do that if you still want to have a job tomorrow.”
Nathan nodded swiftly, and the group of three headed back.
David was woozy, his eyes crusty and his head hurt. He’d been awake and on the go since early that morning in New Mexico. “Listen, I’m exhausted,” he said. “I’ve been up since five, or maybe that’s four. I realize how urgent this is, but given we’re stalled waiting for Linda, I need to go home and get some rest.”
“Let’s meet tomorrow morning before the meeting,” Mike said. “David’s office?”
“Sure. You boys need a ride? Your wife took his car.”
David would probably fall asleep on the long streetcar ride home, he was so tired. “Yes, please. That’d be awesome.”
David had texted to let Christine know he was on his way home. After Gene dropped him off, he went inside and found the house empty.
“Hello?” he called, wandering around. The suitcases were unpacked and waiting in the upstairs hallway. David put them in the attic, and went downstairs. In the kitchen he found a note that read Gone to get dinner, be back soon.
As he finished reading, he heard Christine’s car pull up. He opened the door, and Christine walked up carrying two large bags.
“Takeout from Nicholas,” she said, smiling.
His favorite Lebanese restaurant. He tried to muster up enthusiasm.
Sitting down, he picked moodily at his plate, exhausted from lack of sleep, travel, and the stress of the afternoon.
“You better not waste that mjadra,” Christine said with a laugh.
David managed a weak smile, knowing she wanted to cheer him up.
“You’re hopeless sometimes,” she said, sighing. “What’s your plan for tomorrow?”
“We’re going to Linda Fletcher, the Marketing manager for Communication Products. She’s got decision-making authority while Gary’s out. We’ll ask her to approve an outage so we can take down the servers and install clean images without ELOPe.”
“Sounds reasonable. What do you think her response will be?”
“She may say yes. I hope so, at least.” David fell back into silence, staring at his food.
“Why so glum then?”
“What happens after this?” David said, stabbing angrily at the rice and dropping his fork on the plate. “They’ll cancel the project, almost certainly. This may be the end of my career. They’re going to ask questions about what ELOPe was doing, how these things happened. I was so close to a mind-blowing success. Now what’s the best I can hope for? Damage control.” He rested his head in his hands.
Christine came around the table to hug him. “You have other options. This is one job, one company. No matter what, there’s always a path forward.”
“There will never be another opportunity like Avogadro if I screw this up.”
The next morning, David, Mike, and Gene reviewed what they’d say at the meeting with Linda, and discussed contingency plans.
“We’ve got time to kill,” Gene said, “and we could use downtime and food. I wouldn’t mind getting away from here. Kenny and Zuke’s?”
Mike nodded eagerly.
The sandwich shop was a standby for the Avogadro crowd. The company’s cafeteria food might be excellent and well loved, but eventually the corporate ambience tired out even enthusiasts. On this particular day, they were a little more comfortable a few blocks away from the eyes and ears of the company. They enjoyed Reubens and hamburger sliders and made their way back ten minutes before the planned meeting time.
They entered the seventh floor conference room to find Linda and Tim already present. As they set foot in the room, Linda made a zig-zag hand motion at the gesture-sensitive walls, and the wrap-around display screens, covered with presentations, diagrams, and spreadsheets, went dark simultaneously. David couldn’t help reacting to the gesture. He wasn’t used to such a lack of trust between Avogadro employees.
“Sorry,” Linda said, seeing the expression on his face. “It’s a confidential client deal.” She shrugged dismissively. “Dave, you I know.” She shook his hand. “Who are these gentlemen?”
They started a round of introductions. Linda was a Scandinavian woman whose family had lived briefly in Wisconsin when she was a child, just a few towns away from Mike. She and Mike laughed over common experiences growing up. Tim, with his jet-black jeans, boots, and T-shirt, defied everyone’s expectations of a corporate attorney. David wondered if he was some new breed of Goth lawyer, but Tim’s jovial attitude set them at ease.
The small talk done with and everyone seated, David explained what brought them to the meeting. Mike contributed details but let David lead the conversation.
The light-hearted mood faded as they got to the suspicious purchases and ELOPe’s possible role. Linda sat back, arms folded, a foot from the table as Tim’s frown became more pronounced.
David couldn’t read them. Obviously they weren’t happy. But were they uncomfortable with the technology, or worried about making a decision without Gary present? Afraid they’d somehow be liable for what happened? All three? By the time he got to the crux, his initial confidence had evaporated.
“What we’re asking for is your authority to force a shutdown of all email servers. Then we’d re-image those computers with a known good version of the software.”
Between leaning away from the table, crossed arms, and condescending expressions of disbelief, Linda and Tim radiated rejection in every possible way. David’s heart sank. Damnit, he needed them to believe. He had to make one last attempt.
“Look,” David said, “This is a normal action we take when a server has a problem, just like reinstalling the operating system and software on your PC. A straightforward process.”
“I hear you and I want to help,” Linda said, fiddling with her tablet. “I really do.”
David couldn’t have gotten a clearer no. He opened his mouth to object, but Linda went on.
“The problem is I’m uncomfortable making a decision of this magnitude without Gary here. I’ve already got…well, never mind that. I’d much rather wait for Gary to return.” Linda glanced at Tim and then turned back to David. “What you’re asking for, would it cause a service interruption? How long and how many customers would be affected?”
“Yes, but only a temporary outage. The good news is Avogadro has a process to re-image servers quickly. We can bring a server up in less than ten minutes. The bad news is we don’t no
rmally re-image all the servers simultaneously. The backup system containing the images can only service a few thousand servers at a time. Some servers would come up quickly, but it’ll take three hours to get everything back online.”
“Wait a second,” Linda said, leaning forward. “You want a full outage? For three hours? I thought you were talking about a degradation of service. No way we can afford that much downtime right now. It’s non-negotiable. We’re closing new partnership deals in the next couple of days, confidential stuff we can’t discuss until the press release comes out, but they’re a major coup for Avogadro. A multi-billion dollar opportunity. I can’t put that at risk.” Linda looked to Tim for confirmation.
“I agree,” Tim said. “These customers specified service level agreements committing to certain uptime. An outage now would destroy our credibility to meet those goals, and they’d back out. We’d lose the deals.”
“Wait a minute.” Linda snapped her fingers. “The rolling maintenance windows. Why don’t you use them? Bring down some of the servers in small groups and fix them a bunch at a time?”
“We wish we could,” Mike jumped in, “but we’re afraid the existing systems would reinfect the new ones as they come up. We need to shut down every email server and keep them down until the clean installs are done.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to say no.” She waggled one finger at them. “If you had hard evidence the servers were causing problems for our customers, I might be influenced to make the decision to rebuild them. But a strange story about a handful of emails being manipulated…It seems more likely your accounts have been compromised, not that the entire email system is flawed. I think you should talk to Security.” She shook her head.
“This isn’t a Security problem,” David said. “This is—”
“Look,” Linda said. “I can’t decide to risk billions in revenue based on a few mangled emails. You’re free to talk to Gary when he returns, of course.” She turned to the displays, arm raised to make the gesture to turn them back on. “Anything else?” Her attitude said it was a dismissal, not an invitation.
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