David stood up and walked over to the window. As he stared out at Mt. Hood, he thought about the old tree in Eastern Oregon. He felt equal parts scared and excited, a common duality of late. He also felt like the curtain had been pulled on something he had always taken for granted. He knew from watching TED Talks how powerful stories could be, but hadn’t made the connection to use them in his pitch.
David said: “So how do we start?”
“Start with Frank’s advice to me. Think about why you guys are doing this in the first place. What problem are you solving? Why is it a problem? For whom is it a problem? What’s the market? How big of a problem is it, really?” Andrea walked over to David and put a hand on his shoulder. “And when you think you have the answer, ask the question again. Whatever you think the reason is, whatever you think the problem is, there is a deeper reason and a deeper problem. You need to get to the root of it. Often you will have to go four or five levels deep to truly understand what you are trying to do.”
Andrew’s hand tapped impatiently on his leg. “Philosophy’s great, but how do we put together our pitch?”
“Once you understand your problem and solution, tell the best story you can about it. Make it personal. Something that incorporates the problem, the solution, and things about you that you want the sharks to know.”
“That’s it? Just tell a story?” said Andrew.
“Dude, don’t be rude. She’s trying to help us,” David said in a low voice.
“I know, but anyone could have told us to tell a story. I need more practical and hands-on advice if we’re going to stand a chance.”
Andrea just listened and smiled.
“Besides the story, there is only one more thing that’s critically important.”
At that very moment, Jenni popped her head in the door.
“Andrea, you are five minutes late for your two o’clock.”
“Sorry guys, I have to take this. Good luck and let me know if you need any more guidance. You are going to do great, I just know it.”
David and Andrew slipped out as Andrea picked up her phone and started apologizing for her tardiness. Andrew winked at David and started running to catch up with Jenni. David wandered slowly toward the elevators. As he walked by, he saw a few guys near a table playing hacky sack under a “Code Monkeys” flag. One of the guys had long dreadlocks and was wearing whitewashed skinny jeans and a vintage Burberry plaid button-up shirt. The other guy was a more common stock programmer, also lanky but with thick horn-rimmed glasses and a grey T-shirt tucked into his khakis with some kind of chimpanzee on the front promoting some startup.
How Portland, David thought.
Chapter 17
Mark Baxter was dressed in a sharp black tailored suit, crisp white shirt and skinny blue tie. When David walked up to him at Stumptown, Mark looked at him like he recognized an old friend. David felt weirdly underdressed in his jeans and white T-shirt even though nobody else in the coffee shop was dressed any more formally than he was. “Such Great Heights” by the Postal Service was playing loudly over some large speakers balanced on the edge of a small, empty, makeshift stage.
“David, you look just like your picture. Except with a killer beard. How are you? Can I buy you a coffee?” Mark smiled. David had never met anyone from Hollywood before, but he could imagine that’s what a Hollywood smile would look like.
“Sure, thanks.”
“You didn’t fill out the paperwork correctly. You know that’s really important, don’t you?”
“What part did I get wrong? It was forty pages and I got lost in it a few times.”
“This is serious business, you know.” Mark looked over at the barista. “I’ll take a half light double macchiato with room. And whatever this guy wants.” The barista looked at Mark as if to say, This isn’t Starbucks, you know. But she shrugged it off and gladly accepted his American Express Platinum card.
“Coffee, black. Thank you, Cindy.”
“Look David, I like you, but none of this matters if we don’t get everything lined up correctly. It was good luck I was in Portland for something else and we could meet up. But remember that just because I like you doesn’t mean you will get to see the sharks in person. I’m personally hoping you will, because you have a lot of potential. But you have to work with me on this. Okay?”
“Of course, just tell me what part I need to fix.”
“Good. Now, you say that your sister has a disease, right? How old was she when she was diagnosed?”
“I’m sorry, but what does that have to do with anything? What does it have to do with Cryptobit?”
“This is to determine backstory, David. I’ve been thinking about the name, too. What do you think of Cryptocat?”
“That name is already taken by a competitor.”
“Shit. Back to the drawing board. There’s our drinks.”
David was liking Mark less and less by the minute. It seemed like everything Mark said was a question. Mark picked up his drink and brought it to his nose like a fine wine. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply with a smile. Then he took a tiny sip.
“Fuck. Well, it ain’t Starbucks, you know? Where do they hide the sugar in this place anyhow? So tell me more about Heather. What’s she like?”
Mark walked toward the entrance where there was a long rustic table made of old wood while David tried to keep pace.
“She’s smart and young. I don’t know. She’s my sister. What do you want to know?”
“Look, David. I’m just trying to help you. Help me help you. Did you guys get along as kids? Or was there a falling out? She’s crippled, so that couldn’t have been easy on your family. Did your dad walk out when he found out about your sister?”
“She’s not crippled, she has muscular dystrophy. Yes, it was hard on the family. But that’s not the reason my dad left. At least not the whole reason. I get it, you want to tell a good story to go with the startup pitch. But I don’t want the country to know about my sister; do we really have to talk about this?”
“It’s not the country, David, it’s the whole world. Pitch Deck is seen by over eight million viewers worldwide right now. We licensed the idea from Sony, who started the idea with Panther of Money in Japan. Later Dragons’ Lair was launched in the UK and Canada. Hell, there’s even a version airing in Afghanistan this spring. This show can make you an overnight success. I can make you an overnight success. The ratings are climbing through the roof right now. I know a dozen other guys who would give their left nut to tell me their sob stories, so either tell me about your sister or it’s been good knowing you.”
David was stunned. Nobody had ever talked to him this way before. He stood there silently for a minute in awe.
“You know what, Mark, I don’t think Pitch Deck is for us after all. I think you should go make ratings with someone else’s sob story.”
Mark threw his coffee in the trash, still mostly full.
“Suit yourself, kid.”
He walked out and was talking on his phone before he stepped out of the door.
David stayed at the counter and picked up the torn sugar packets that Mark had left on the countertop. He threw them in the trash and took a sip of his coffee. His pocket vibrated. It was a text from Andrew. David picked up the phone. Apparently he had missed a bunch of texts from Andrew.
Andrew Smith: How’d it go?
Andrew Smith: Yo, what’s he like?
Andrew Smith: You are killing me, dude
Andrew Smith: Ok, fine, don’t tell me
Andrew Smith: Did he like our pitch?
Andrew Smith: I am going to assume that he is so excited that he picked up your phone and threw it on the ground
Andrew Smith: He hated it, didn’t he?
Andrew Smith: He picked up your phone and threw it on the ground when he saw the demo, right?
Andrew Smith: Just tell me! You didn’t choke, did you?
David called Andrew. He picked up immediately.
“Dude, where
have you been? I’ve been sending you text messages. Have you been getting them?”
“Sorry, I had it on mute. It went horribly, the guy kept hammering on Heather. It was weird, he was obsessed or something. He didn’t ask a single thing about Cryptobit.”
“You think we should change the name? I’ve been thinking we should try to come up with a better name, like Cryptocat or something.”
“You already talked to him, didn’t you?”
“Why?”
“I thought you were going to let me talk to him first, Andrew. I thought we agreed. I’m CEO, so I should be doing fundraising.”
“We’re cofounders, aren’t we? Plus, I got us the opportunity. I wrote the email to the producer. He called me this weekend and he seemed really cool. We hit it off. He mentioned that the name sucked, and I hadn’t thought about it much, but I agree. I think we need a better name.”
“If we're cofounders, you should treat me like a cofounder. Why is this guy having strategic meetings about the future of our business with you before I am? And why aren’t you telling me the truth?”
“I don’t know what your big deal is. Stop freaking out.”
“The big deal is that I can’t trust you. You go behind my back telling strangers about my ideas without my permission. You start taking their advice over mine. I thought we were partners. I thought we were friends.”
“Chill. Out. You are taking this way out of proportion. Just tell me how the meeting went. Did he like you?”
“Sure, he liked me. He kept saying how much he liked me right up until he walked out the door. I told him we aren’t interested. We don’t need Pitch Deck.”
“Wait, what? You told him what now? What the fuck do you mean we're not interested? We need this, David. This was the key to our launch plan. What did you do?”
“Countless great companies have been started without help from sleazy TV shows. You think Zuckerberg needed Pitch Deck?”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this, David, but you are not Mark Zuckerberg or Steve Jobs. Stop acting like it. And what’s this bullshit about not making decisions without consulting each other first? When did you call me and ask me before making this decision?”
“I’m the CEO, Andrew. It was an executive decision.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be CEO if this is how you’re acting. I trusted you to bring this home. This should have been an easy layup. All you had to do was nod your head and smile. They were ready to put us on the show next month. He told me that he usually didn’t guarantee placements, but that things were looking good for us. How do you fuck that up? Explain to me exactly how you can fuck up such an easy situation.”
“The guy’s a sleazeball. If you liked him so much, you should go start a company with him. Maybe you can get married in Washington and have babies.”
“I can’t believe you sometimes, David. What are you, a fourth grader?”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you too. I’m going to have to fix this like I fix everything else in your life when you fuck it up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Who do you think talked Megan off the cliff when you came up with your loony jellyfish idea? She came to me bawling, telling me about how you spent so much money on the stupidest idea she had ever heard of. Another one of your executive decisions, I imagine. I had to calm her down and persuade her to give you another chance. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe you have had enough chances. Maybe it’s about time you clean up your own mess.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to keep out of other people’s business. Maybe it’s time for you to stop talking to other people’s girlfriends. Maybe it’s time for you to stop butting into other people’s startups.”
“Fine. Maybe it is.”
Chapter 18
“Are you sure? Let me see,” said Shawn. He pulled an old cathode ray tube monitor toward him. “You are right! It’s him!”
Shawn had almost forgotten about the tap they had put on the email addresses. He had nearly given up hope, assuming the accounts had been abandoned.
The email was caught on an intermediary SMTP server that lived between Google’s servers and the backbone of the Internet. Without subpoenas, Google had not been cooperating directly with the government. But the geeks in the NSA didn’t need Google’s cooperation to create a tracer tag like Brandon had done.
“Did it trace back to anywhere foreign? Anything in China or Germany?” said Shawn.
“The FBI hasn’t gotten back to me yet about that,” said Brandon.
“I couldn’t care less about the FBI.” Shawn said with a reprimanding tone. “Have you tracked down any foreign leads yet?”
“No. I’ll get on it.” Brandon jumped out the door like a hound on the scent.
“Brandon!” Shawn said. “Pull up the email for me before you go.”
Shawn stood at the desk. Too much excitement and energy to sit down. This was it. His big break. He had been working on this for so long in the dark. Every morning, he would come into work and say out loud: “Today’s the day. Today we're getting our big break.” He read the email and then reread it. Unlike the last email exchange he’d discovered, this one was obviously a bulk email sent as a welcome for some Internet service.
From: David Alexander
To:
Hi,
Thank you for joining the waiting list for Cryptobit, the world’s most secure messaging system. The demand for Cryptobit has been overwhelming, but the average wait time right now is usually just 3-5 days.
-David
http://www.cryptobit.io/
Shawn reached for his phone to text Brandon, but when he pulled up the screen, he saw Brandon had already texted him: I forgot to tell you, already looking into David and Cryptobit. Will give you a debriefing tonight.
Shawn smiled. Attaboy. He texted back: Anyone else know about this yet?
Brandon responded: No.
Shawn responded: Keep it that way.
* * *
It had been dark outside for a couple of hours, but inside the building the dim florescent light looked the same as it did during daytime. When Brandon came back to Shawn’s desk with a ream of paper under his arm, he walked with a peacock’s posture of geeky pride. Picking apart the life of David Alexander was easier than he had anticipated. Typical millennial, he thought. Spends countless hours posting his life story on social networks and blogs. Brandon loved getting information on millennials—it was always so easy that it made him look really good.
Brandon explained that David’s cofounder was Andrew Smith, a slightly less geeky weirdo also in Portland, Oregon. He told Shawn about David’s girlfriend, Megan Anderson, his sister Heather, his mother Sophia, and his father Richard. He had David’s credit card records (shops at Safeway, but eats out a lot at Pok Pok), his criminal record (speeding ticket two years ago), and even his movie rewards card (mainly likes spy and action movies, James Bond, Fast and the Furious, Mission Impossible). Brandon and Shawn poured over David’s life for hours.
Then came Cryptobit. Brandon had forwarded Cryptobit to Jason, a techie friend of his in the NSA who had been evaluating the startup’s security claims. Jason had been doing crypto since he was nine years old and was able to pick apart the weaknesses of most new crypto projects he saw within minutes. But Brandon hadn’t heard from Jason all day. He had texted him a few times to check on the status, but Jason had gone dark. So Brandon stepped Shawn through the basics of Cryptobit, at least what it said on the website.
“If it actually works, it’s no wonder our unsub wants to use it,” said Shawn. “We almost got him last time because of that careless email. He won’t make that mistake again.”
Just then, Richard Curtis walked in. He slammed his hands on Shawn’s desk as his nostrils flared and his face beamed red.
“Would someone care to explain to me why you are communicating with the NSA?” asked Richard. He didn’t wait for an answer.
>
“I thought I made it abundantly clear that you were to cease all independent investigations. Now I am getting phone calls in the middle of the night from the FBI telling me you two are looking into some loony startup in Oregon. You sure as hell should not be investigating, but if you found something you should have contacted me immediately. Do you have any idea how the phone calls went tonight? ‘Richard, what are they doing?’ ‘I don’t know, sir.’ ‘Richard, what does Oregon have to do with this investigation?’ ‘I don’t know, sir.’ You made me look like a complete ass.”
Richard took a deep breath. Shawn began to say, “I am so—” but Richard wasn’t done yet.
“And then they tell me that the startup you found has stumped the NSA, and now I have their senior directors calling me and asking me the same questions. ‘Richard, where did they find this website?’ ‘I don’t know, sir.’ ‘Richard, do they think a terrorist is using this website?’ ‘I don’t know, sir.’ I need answers and I need them right now. And don’t you dare bullshit me anymore.”
Shawn explained everything—the email tracer tag, the hit that morning and how that led to the website. Brandon gave Richard a review of the findings of the day on David and his friends and family.
“Give me those papers. Is that the only copy?” said Richard.
“Yes, sir,” said Brandon.
“Good. From this moment on, you are both to stop investigating. No exceptions. Go home and forget about today. I’ll save your asses this time, but there will not be a second chance. You got it?”
“Yes, sir,” said Shawn and Brandon in unison.
Richard stormed out of the office and had his phone to his ear before he even reached the threshold.
“So I guess Cryptobit is as good as it claims to be,” Brandon whispered to Shawn.
Shawn smiled and rapped his knuckles on his desk.
The Term Sheet: A Startup Thriller Novel Page 8
