by Glen Robins
Bring IT’s launch was successful. By the second meeting, their numbers had doubled. By the fourth meeting, there was scarcely room to hold the twenty-one eager members. New chairs had to be procured. Lukas was assigned the task of acquiring them with a budget of $12. Of course, they didn’t match each other nor any of the existing ones.
Penh possessed a magnetic personality and was an eloquent orator. He spoke with the grace and ease of an accomplished preacher or statesman. His words and his tone conveyed conviction born from personal experience, which lent a certain power to his speeches.
Each meeting began with a firsthand account of living conditions in the area where their kiosk would be placed from their dynamic and eloquent leader. Pho Nam Penh loved to tell stories from his life in that village, of growing up in a family of nine children, never knowing if there would be a meal that day. He told of the heart-wrenching drama of watching his older siblings “sold” to the men from the big city who came to find able-bodied workers for their factories when they reached the useful age of thirteen. He spoke of the dread that filled his soul as his thirteenth birthday approached, then paused as he cast his gaze upon his audience. No one moved. No one breathed, even.
“Can you imagine what that was like? I doubt any of you can relate to a background like that. Not all of you are from privileged households, but I’m quite certain none of you faced being sold off so that the rest of your family could eat.” He paused, making eye contact with each enthralled listener. “Do you want to know how much a child in rural Cambodia could fetch on the underground labor market? I’ll tell you. A thirteen-year-old girl can bring as much as one-third of a farmer’s annual income. A young man can bring up to six months’ worth. The only good thing about watching each of my three older siblings depart was the increase in rations for the rest of us. We ate like kings, or so we thought, for a month or two after each of them disappeared. I didn’t exactly know what happened or where they went at the time. I learned later, when it was my turn.”
He adjourned the meeting, leaving those in attendance fascinated, horrified, and wanting to hear more.
Lukas was taken by the man and his cause. He had readily joined his club so that he, too, could participate in lifting up even a small number of the downtrodden. He was convinced this idea of Penh’s would help relieve the struggles of its beneficiaries. It became clear to Lukas that technology had the power to change lives. What more noble cause could there be?
He was proud to be part of this club. There were others that he could bring in, he thought. They, too, needed to be part of this. He began telling classmates and those in his study groups about this club and the unique opportunity it presented to do something good.
Penh’s vision and passion were electrifying. His personal history riveting. His cause energizing. Lukas was being pulled into this man’s orbit and saw a whole new vista of opportunity and meaning in his life.
Lukas was so excited he even told his best friends from home about it. Rob Howell, who was busy studying Business and Entrepreneurism at Arizona State, commented via text: “Way to use that noggin of yours, bro.”
Collin Cook, who had been completely uninterested in college until late in the summer after high school graduation, said, “You sure? Sounds great, but what about studying and homework? Oh, wait, it’s only MIT.”
Lukas responded with “Ha ha. Can’t study all the time. Besides, I think you would like the club president. He’s a pretty cool guy.”
“You’ll have to introduce me someday.”
Chapter Four
Massachusetts Institute of Technology
Freshman Year
As the first semester grew to a close, Lukas felt more at ease in the high-octane academic environment of MIT. He had developed a number of friendships with his classmates, had gotten to know his professors and their respective teaching styles, and showed his proficiency with the concepts to both peer and mentor alike. It wasn’t just a matter of surviving by this point; the sense that he could thrive was beginning to take hold.
On campus, things were going great. His grades were excellent, and his comfort level was improving by the day. Off campus, however, things were not as good. Lukas sensed a shift in the tenor of the meetings with Pho Nam Penh and the other members of the club. What started out as an opportunity to do good was changing. Penh seemed less interested in helping those in his village and more intent on verbally deriding the economic tyranny of the western world. His inspirational speeches were now long-winded diatribes. The longer he spoke, the less the group got accomplished. An unspoken anxiety permeated the meetings. A different kind of energy filled the garage where they met.
Beyond Penh’s esoteric ramblings, Lukas sensed a more sinister vibe developing among Penh and the other two club officers.
While Penh was waxing increasingly hostile in his speech, thick tension between him and the club’s vice president began to take center stage. Lukas caught furtive glances between Penh and his TA, the enchanting female officer, more than once. She had come to every meeting with the vice president, Harold Fung, who had obviously picked up on the coy looks that were exchanged. At the same time, Harold tried numerous times to quell Penh’s rising vitriol and to refocus his energy on the project at hand. Penh paid little heed to the VP’s recommendations and attempts to calm him down.
Then the semester ended. Lukas headed home to Huntington Beach and presumed that his friends and fellow club members would spend time with their families during the holidays as well. He pushed the rising angst from the final club meeting of the semester out of his mind and spent an enjoyable time relaxing and celebrating Christmas and New Year’s.
At home, Lukas, Rob, and Collin spent time surfing, driving, and playing video games together for a few days before Lukas and his parents headed to Austria for the holidays and Rob went off with his dad on some spur-of-the-moment adventure.
Expecting things to have returned to normal after the break, Lukas attended the first club meeting of the New Year in mid-January eager to get installing the solar cells and testing the batteries for their “Information Station,” as they had dubbed it. They needed to make up time to stay on schedule to deliver the kiosk by June. The upper classmen were supposed to spend part of their Holiday procuring funding. Lukas didn’t dwell on those details. If Penh said it would happen, he had faith that it would happen. Simple as that.
However, things didn’t get back to normal. In fact, nothing was as he or the other club members had expected. Noticeably absent from that first Tuesday night meeting were Pho Nam Penh and the Harold Fung. In their place, the ordinarily quiet Treasurer, his and David’s TA, stood to conduct the meeting. Unlike usual, Harold Fung did not arrive with her and Penh was not there to flirt with her. She appeared a bit rattled but carried on admirably.
After the meeting started, Santosh, the Indian guy who had been there with Lukas and David from the beginning, raised his hand and asked, “Where are the other two? Why aren’t they here?”
The woman, Ms. Khat, avoided answering the real question. “They are still working out the details of our funding,” she said. Her answer was clipped, and she seemed uninterested in adding any more details.
Without returning her eyes to the audience, she pointed at a computer monitor on a stand behind her to divert their attention. A 3-D rendering of their kiosk flashed on, complete with measurements and angles and detailed specifications. By so doing, she avoided any further questions about the leaders’ whereabouts. “Here’s the objective for tonight,” she said pointing at the picture of the roof. She fussed with her laptop, making that portion of the image grow and rotate. “Team A. You’re to work on the circuitry. Team B, you need to work on the mechanics of the repositioning bars. Remember, we want to maximize the wattage generated by keeping the panels at the optimal angle to the sun. Team C…” She continued handing out assignments to Team C and D, then carefully busied herself by moving from team to team to answer questions and give instructions for the r
est of the evening.
Once the group got to the business of working together on their team’s assignment, concerns about the two absent men faded into the background. If it was no big deal to the third officer, it should be no big deal to the rest of the club members.
Lukas, however, was unnerved. It was unlike Penh and Fung, the VP, to miss a meeting. They both held so much passion for the club and the project. It didn’t sit well with Lukas that they would miss the year’s kick-off meeting.
Behind Ms. Khat’s calm exterior, Lukas thought he detected a tremor. Something wasn’t right and he knew he had to get to the bottom of it. He decided to approach her in private after the meeting, but when he did, she quickly covered up her vulnerable emotions and put on a tough façade.
“No, Mr. Mueller. I don’t know where they are at this moment. All I do know is that they have taken on the responsibility to round up money. It has been a source of concern for both of them and has required much more effort than they originally expected.”
“What about you? Is everything OK with you? You seem on edge.”
“There is nothing wrong. I’ve just had a stressful day. I’m behind on my assignments and am ill-prepared for a physics test tomorrow. That’s all. Typical stuff for a busy, working Junior.”
“Don’t you think it odd that they would both be busy at eight o’clock in the evening? That they never called? That they couldn’t swing by? I mean, it’s now past ten o’clock. What kind of funding source is available to meet this late?”
“You ask too many questions, Mr. Mueller. None of which are relevant to the mission of our club. You have your tasks and they have theirs. Different tasks, but equal in importance. Now, if you please, I must be getting home to prepare for my physics exam.”
With that, she dismissed Lukas and his concerns as if she was shewing away a fly. Lukas, however, was not that easily deterred. He hurried back to his dorm room, opened his laptop, and began searching for clues online. Eventually, he tapped into something that made his blood chill: A missing person report on the Cambridge police intranet. The file was not for public consumption, but Lukas was an accomplished hacker and entered the database rather easily.
He learned that not only was Mr. Fung missing, but that Ms. Khat was the one that had called the police and reported him missing. Her story, as reported to the police officer, confirmed what Lukas had suspected: Ms. Khat and Mr. Fung were dating. On the evening of December 21, she had expected him to show up at her apartment. They had planned to spend the evening together. She had prepared a special meal for him and they planned to watch a movie together on the couch since her roommates were gone and it was snowing outside. The problem was Harold never showed, but Pho Nam Penh did. Penh, she reported, had a wild look in his eyes and seemed distracted. He was unable to focus, unable to answer her questions about Harold. She told the investigator that she and Penh had been romantic during the summer, but she had broken it off because he was unable to commit to a monogamous relationship. When pressed by the officer, Ms. Khat admitted that Penh made her nervous, that she felt she couldn’t trust him, and that he was the type who had to be in control all the time. The next question from the investigator was direct: “Do you believe he could have killed your friend, Harold Fung?”
Her answer, according to the report, came with no hesitation: “Yes. I think he is capable of such a thing.”
“Do you think he killed Mr. Fung out of jealousy?”
“It’s possible, but I have no evidence. Only my own suspicions.”
The police report was absent any statements from Penh, citing their inability to locate him.
Lukas continued to read, but it all added to his theory that the three top-ranking officials in his chosen service club were involved in a love triangle that had developed some very sharp edges.
Only one other entry existed in the missing persons file on Harold Fung. It was dated December 28. The same officer that interviewed Ms. Khat interviewed Mr. Penh’s roommates. None of them knew of his whereabouts. One roommate, however, told the detective that Penh had not been back to his apartment for over a week. The last conversation they had was “fairly normal,” the young man said. “Nothing unusual, just that he had to take care of some club business and a personal matter.”
“Did he mention any plans for the Holidays? Was he going to visit family or take a trip anywhere?” the officer had asked.
“He didn’t mention anything to me. But then again, he rarely does. He doesn’t share a lot of personal details.”
“So, you don’t have a close, friendly relationship?” the officer asked.
“Friendly enough, but we don’t get involved in each other’s lives, if that’s what you mean.”
“Did you detect anything unusual about his behavior the last time you saw him? Or anytime during the days leading up to that day?”
“He often goes days without coming back here. It’s not completely unusual for me to not see him for several days at a time. The man keeps strange hours and even stranger company. When he is around, there’s usually a woman with him, sometimes two. He seems to have a way with the ladies, if you know what I mean,” said the roommate.
Lukas stopped reading and thought for a moment. If Ms. Khat’s suspicions were right, what would a guy like Pho Nam Penh do in such a situation? he wondered. He didn’t know Penh well, but he knew what he would do: go back to ground. Find a remote place far away, and hide there for as long as necessary.
That thought prompted him to hack into the passenger manifest systems of several airlines. Forty minutes of searching revealed that Pho Nam Penh had departed from Logan International Airport in Boston on December 21st on a redeye Lufthansa flight bound for London. From London, he had booked a flight on British Airways to Kuala Lumpur.
Penh was on the run, the club’s Vice President, Harold Fung, was missing, and Ms. Khat, the treasurer, had reported it and was scared. The picture of what happened was coming into focus, but Lukas had no idea what to do with the information he had gathered, especially since most of it was obtained illicitly.
His search ended at 2:42 a.m. With so much to process and so many angles to work through, Lukas couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t hungry and wasn’t in the mood to play video games or study or read. None of his usual pursuits felt congruent to the situation in which he found himself. There was no one to talk to, either. He paced the hallways of the dormitory, chewing on his cuticles until the first rays of the sun appeared, then headed for the common bathroom and took a long hot shower before anyone else awoke.
A man in a suit and tie was waiting in front of Lukas’s door when he returned to his room.
Chapter Five
Massachusetts Institute of Technology
Freshman Year
Lukas arrived at his door, hair dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel tied around his waist, to find a man he guessed to be in his thirties waiting for him. Lukas thought he looked like a government agent and quickly learned that his guess was correct. After glancing in both directions down the empty hallway, the man flashed a badge and introduced himself as Agent Val Steele from the National Security Agency and told him to get dressed. The man followed Lukas into his room, giving him no privacy.
“Am I a suspect or something, Agent Steele? Is that why I must get dressed in front of you? I admit, I’m unaccustomed to changing with another man in the room and not entirely comfortable with it.”
“Listen,” said Steele, opening his jacket to reveal his holstered sidearm. “I don’t care what you’re comfortable with or accustomed to. My job is to bring you in. Our station chief has some questions for you. Every one of these dorm rooms has a window. I’m here to reduce the chances of you going out that window to zero.”
“I have class this morning and I’m not prepared for it. I need to study. I don’t have time right now.” Lukas was sputtering, sounding flustered and he knew it. Better to shut up and try to stay calm, he thought.
“I know your class schedule.
That’s why I’m here at the crack of dawn. Do you honestly think I care about your level of preparation right now? All I care about is doing my job, following orders. The chief wants your butt in his office pronto. No more questions. Just get ready.”
Lukas swallowed hard. His mind raced through the possibilities. The only thing he could think of was his hack job the night before into the airport’s database. A pit formed in his stomach and he wished he could undo what he had done.
“Don’t I have rights? Like a phone call or a lawyer or something like that?”
“You can take that up with the chief when we get there. I’m just here to bring you in. It’s pretty simple, really. I can take you in as you are, or you can throw some clothes on. Those are the rights I’m giving you right now.” Steele had a classic Boston accent which, under different circumstances, may have been amusing. He also had that no-nonsense demeanor of a cop, underscored by a thick chest and arms that created a tightness in the sleeves of his jacket.
With no real alternatives, Lukas decided to remain silent until he figured out how to extricate himself from this predicament.
After throwing on a base layer of synthetic long johns, Lukas donned jeans and a long-sleeved flannel button up shirt. He put on wool-blend socks and his snow boots and grabbed his winter coat on the way out the door. Steele pushed Lukas down the hallway to the left, through the doors at the end of the hall and out to a dark blue late-model American-made sedan parked with the passenger’s side wheels up on the curb, the driver’s side wheels on Vassar Street. Steele opened the back door and guided him in like cops do on TV. Although there were very few people up and about at this early hour, Lukas wondered if any of the handful of walkers or joggers or other passersby recognized him. That would have been humiliating.
