by Nick Thacker
“I don’t often allude to our outside investors,” she said. “But you both know they exist — everyone here does. We are grateful to them for their continued support, and certainly for their hands-off style of management in this organization. But until we know exactly what these results mean for our organization, I would urge us to refrain from opening the doors too widely.”
She hoped the warning was clear.
“Your call, boss,” Ortega said. “We’re with you, no matter what.”
She nodded, smiling.
“Besides the first set of results that went up earlier this afternoon, we’ll keep everything hush-hush until we’re ready.”
Amanda turned her head slightly. “First set? This afternoon?”
“Uh, yes,” Dr. Ortega said. “We changed the schedule last month to twelve hours earlier — it was easier for our IT consultants, since they’re on the other side of the world.”
Amanda stared at him. I remember that, she thought. And I totally forgot.
“Is that going to be a problem?” Dr. Wu asked, looking concerned.
“No,” she responded, shaking her head quickly. “It’s just been an eventful week. I’d forgotten we’d decided to do that.”
“Good deal,” Ortega said. “We’ll keep it offline until you give the go-ahead, and I’ll see where the one receiving hit originated from, just so you’re in the loop.”
“Receiving hit? Someone’s accessed the data already?”
“Well, sure — someone always does, right away. At least that’s how it’s always been since I’ve been here. Same IP address every time. Usually the same time of day, even. Might be that reclusive investor you’ve got.” He winked.
Amanda felt her blood run cold. If they already have the data…
She stood. “Very good. Thank you all for your hard work. Let’s get the results back from Diane after you and Gauvez take a crack at this, and we’ll get going tomorrow morning.”
Dr. Wu and Ortega nodded, and Amanda stood to leave the room.
Time to call an old friend.
5
“AMANDA MERON,” PAULINHO SAID INTO the phone he’d holstered into the nook of his shoulder. Riding a bicycle and talking on the phone wasn’t easy, but Paulinho wasn’t about to let that stop him. “Get out of the way!” he yelled in Portuguese to a taxicab that screamed past. The cab driver didn’t even turn to look as he honked his horn in reply.
“Paulinho, that you?” asked the woman’s voice in his ear.
“Sim; yes. How are you?”
“Doing well, Paulinho. It’s good to hear from you. Can we meet?”
Paulinho checked his watch — another feat of physical coordination he was immediately proud of. “Yes, I believe so. I have another appointment in half an hour, but I am downtown now.”
His afternoon bike rides were just one of the many forms of exercise Paulinho engaged in during the week. While he kept no particular schedule, he considered ‘staying active’ to mean everything from rock climbing, lifting weights, and playing racquetball in the gym next to the government office he worked in — and bicycling, running, and swimming when the weather was nice.
“Good, I have a meeting as well. Can you meet for a cup of coffee? I can come to you.”
Paulinho confirmed, then wheeled his bike onto the sidewalk next to the road. He found a small coffee shop tucked between two retail outlets, and texted the location to his friend.
He waited ten minutes, but before he’d even captured a free table outside the street-side cafe, Amanda rushed into the gated patio.
“Paulinho!” They exchanged pleasantries, ordered drinks, and sat.
“What is it that you have rushed here to tell me?” Paulinho asked, pausing to sip the warm drink.
“Not to tell you… to ask you,” Amanda responded. “I need a favor.”
His tried to read her expression, but failed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, I think so. But I’m not sure. It’s — it’s NARATech.”
“Your company?”
“I’m worried about my investors. Specifically, I’m worried about who they really are.”
Paulinho broke the eye contact when the waiter brought their drinks. They each took a long sip, paying homage to the high quality beverages, then jumped back in to the conversation.
“We’ve made some progress in our research — significant progress. And we’ve had the luxury of a mostly silent partner in my investors, but I’d like to see if you can dig up anything on them?”
“‘Dig up?’”
Amanda nodded.
“Amanda, I am not a spy. I work for the financial bureau. I’m just an accountant.”
“But you’re my only contact in the government. You’re smart, and you might be able to find some information for me — bank accounts, linking them back to a person, or persons — anything.”
Paulinho finally had a read on her. She’s desperate. He suddenly felt sorry for her, but the feeling subsided almost immediately. Dr. Amanda Meron had a fragile personality and was the epitome of an introverted genius, but she still was not the type of person to come crawling to him for favors. They’d only met a year ago, but they’d hit it off right away. Paulinho was an extrovert and socialite, and he’d sidled up to her at a dinner party, each of them the only singles at the event, and he’d struck up a conversation.
He loved her quiet confidence, her ability to exude control over her words and naturally force anyone listening to her to pause and wait for her to gather her thoughts. It didn’t hurt that she was stunningly beautiful, either.
He thought about the request for a moment before responding. “Amanda, I want to help. I really do. But I cannot imagine where I would even start.”
“I have routing numbers and bank account numbers from deposits. We can start there.”
“What about a name; someone at the firm?” He took another sip of his coffee, then added, “And why are you so worried?”
Amanda shook her head. “I’m not worried… No, I don’t have any names, that was the agreement. Besides, it’s not just one person — this is an organization, one that prides itself on discretion. They agreed to fund the project to its completion, and give us complete control, in exchange for their anonymity. They prefer to be a silent partner.”
“You mean a nonexistent partner…”
Amanda smiled. “Nevertheless, they’ve let us operate without oversight thus far, and we’ve kept up our end of the agreement — my team uploads research every week, and someone there seems to be accessing it, but they’ve never responded with any questions or clarifications.” She paused a moment. “Fine. to answer your second question, I guess I’m just feeling… a little overwhelmed. Our project has been moving forward more and more quickly, and I came to the realization that we have no idea who it is we’re really working for.”
Paulinho nodded. “Still, Amanda, I don’t know what it is I can help you with. I will certainly look around our offices for any obvious links, but if this company had a name, or a person associated —“
“It has a name. Well, I do remember what they told me when I first heard from them.”
Paulinho raised an eyebrow.
“They called themselves ‘Dragonstone Corp.’ I have no doubt that it’s an umbrella corporation, and I’m receiving money from one of their subsidiaries, another company that goes by Drache Global.”
Paulinho steeled himself. “A typical structure, to save on taxes. Any idea where they’re located?”
Amanda shook her head. “None. The man I initially spoke with, seven years ago, sounded French. Maybe Canadian. I’ve done some research online, and haven’t been able to find anything on them.”
“Good. I’ll see what I can find. Amanda, I hope everything is okay. Please let me know if you hear anything else.”
Amanda stood to leave. “I will. And let me know what you find.”
Paulinho stood to see her off, then sat back down at the outdoor patio table. He pulled his
phone from his pocket again and opened a browser, looking for the number of an old friend. I wonder if her number is online, he thought.
He scrolled through a list of office extensions for a moment until he came to the number he was looking for. He clicked the link, opening the phone app and dialing the number. He lifted the phone to his ear and waited, hoping the number was her personal cell, and not just an office line.
Pick up, he willed into the phone.
A woman’s voice answered. “Juliette Richardson.”
“Julie? Hello? It’s Paulinho, from University.” It had been years since they’d graduated, but Paulinho and Julie were close then. They’d tried to stay in touch, but their professional ambitions had pulled them apart. Their paths had crossed again a few months ago however, when he was sent to the United States to help with the cleanup of some of the financial fallout the country suffered surrounding explosions and a virus outbreak at Yellowstone National Park.
“Paulinho! Wow, twice in one year!” the woman answered.
“Yes, and I’m sorry we haven’t remained in touch, but I’m calling for something else.”
Julie paused on the other end. “And what might that be?”
Paulinho sighed. “Well, I remember your… ordeal… back in Yellowstone.”
No response.
“Julie, I know you don’t want to relive any of it, but I also know how distraught you were after you and Harvey couldn’t get the closure you needed.”
More silence.
“Julie, I was just contacted by a friend of mine working in neurological research. She came to me asking for help looking into one of her investors. She seemed a little desperate, actually, which is somewhat out of character for her.” He paused. “Listen, the point is: I’m worried for her. I’m going to look into it, but I wanted to let you know first.”
Finally Julie spoke. “Why?”
“Well, the company name she gave me was Drache Global.”
6
“JULES, I TOLD YOU — I’M not interested in sitting on my butt for three weeks while you spend most of it throwing up over the edge of a boat.”
Harvey “Ben” Bennett waited for the rebuttal he knew was coming, then turned back to the book he was reading: Plants of the Rocky Mountains. ‘Reading’ was probably too strong a word, since he was mostly just flipping through pages, hoping to catch some of what his father used to call “intelligence by osmosis.”
He hadn’t waited long enough. Juliette Richardson stopped at the doorway to the tiny living room in the cabin they currently lived in together, and spoke. “I didn’t say I was seasick, Ben. I said I might be. My mom was, and her sister, and —“
“And you’re saying ‘seasickness’ is hereditary,” he said, not looking up from his book.
“I’m saying that I don’t know if I will be or not. But that doesn’t matter. I have medicine and they have these little bracelets now that —“
“Oh, come on,” he said, laughing. “You don’t honestly think those things work, do you?”
Julie took a few steps closer to him and stood at the foot of his recliner — a ratty, crusted old armchair that he wouldn’t let her replace. It ‘sat well,’ as he always told her. She didn’t agree, and always chose to sit on the love seat next to it.
“Let’s just take a second here and realize which one of us is being the most dramatic,” she said.
“You,” he answered immediately, still not looking up from the ‘Key to Gooseberries and Currants (Ribes Species)’ description in the ‘Shrubs’ section of the book.
Julie sighed. “Right. Me. I’m the dramatic one, for wondering whether or not I’d get seasick on a week-long cruise through the Gulf of Mexico. Not you, who wants to drive there. Ben,” She paused, waiting for him to look up.
Don’t do it, you fool, he thought. She wins if you look up.
He looked up. Damn, she’s cute.
“Ben,” she repeated. “We’re in Alaska. You want to drive to Galveston, Texas. From Alaska.”
He raised his eyebrows a bit. So what?
She sighed again, then threw her hands up in the air and left the room to see to the massive pot of chili she’d been working on all day. It was an all-time favorite recipe from her mother, and since Ben liked to call himself a ‘year-round chili kind of guy,’ he had no issue with eating the hearty stew multiple times a day in the dead of summer.
Julie had ’officially’ lived in his cabin for a few months now, and he knew neither of them was hoping to change the arrangement anytime soon. If anything, they were getting more serious, but Ben tried as hard as possible not to seem ‘in love’ whenever any of his fellow park rangers saw them together. He’d been able to stave off the jibes and taunts at first, but within a week of their finding out about his relationship status he was being called ‘Romeo.’ He quickly discovered that his fellow rangers at Denali National Park weren’t any more creative with their insults than those he’d left behind at Yellowstone.
After transferring from Yellowstone, he and Juliette were welcomed with open arms onto the full-time staff at the park, Julie beginning a new role as an IT and technical support coordinator, and acting as a part-time consultant for the CDC. Her old program, the Biological Threat Research division, had been temporarily shuttered after the suspected murder of its leader and a terrorist infiltration among its ranks. She made plenty of money doing IT for the park and contracting her services to the CDC on the side, and they allowed her to work wherever she wanted. After Ben had finalized the purchase of the land in Alaska he’d always wanted and made the arrangements, he’d taken Julie along to turn the tiny trapper’s cabin that sat on it into a home.
Julie entered the room again, having swirled the chili around and deemed it safe for another five minutes. Ben never understood her cooking habits. They both loved cooking, but Julie was far more ‘hands on’ about it. When a recipe told her to ‘wait twenty minutes,’ Ben could be sure she’d be hovering over it every minute, watching, poking, and prodding it along.
When a recipe told Ben to ‘wait twenty minutes,’ he gave it thirty, just to be safe.
“My point is that you just don’t want to fly. If you wanted to fly, we could get there in a few hours and have time to kill before we got on the boat.”
Ben looked up again from the shrub he was inactively studying. “‘A few hours?’ Seriously? Julie, it’s like 9 hours from Anchorage, and that’s not including the time it takes to drive to the airport.”
“It’s three days of driving time. Not including hotels and food. I’m just saying —“
“I know what you’re saying, Jules. I’m not doing it.” He’d meant it to sound final; to alert Julie to the seriousness with which he’d made the decision, but it came across as hesitant. If he was being honest with himself, he did want a vacation. While he absolutely loved the cool Alaskan summers, he had to admit that sitting on a deck, bathing in sunlight while drinking a Cuba Libre sounded decent.
Not to mention Julie’s attire during the week.
He knew she’d been ordering swimsuits online, expecting the conversation they were having now to go her way.
And it would. Ben knew he just needed to hold out a bit longer to make sure she knew that she didn’t have him around her little finger. By putting up just a bit of a fight, she’d be that much more excited when he agreed to it.
She left the room to stir the chili once more, then returned. “I’ve been ordering swimsuits online, and the first one came to the office today — want me to model it for you?”
Julie flicked him the single raised-eyebrow look she used when she was trying to look sexy, which only made her look goofy.
Which makes her look sexy.
“Fine. I guess I’ll put the book down,” Ben said, grinning.
Julie ran off into the bedroom of the cabin, situated next to the kitchen and behind the larger living room area, and Ben closed the guidebook and placed it on the end table next to the chair.
He heard her
cell phone ring, a piercing screech that she wouldn’t change or turn down. She carried the thing with her everywhere, afraid that at any moment she’d be called in to handle an emergency email password change or an office computer freezing.
After another minute, Julie walked back in the room — still wearing the clothes she’d had on before.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She shook her head. He focused on her eyes. Where there had been playfulness and joy in them a moment ago, she was now all business.
“Jules, what’s up?” he stood up from the large chair and pushed the recliner in, then walked toward her.
“We need to go to Brazil.”
Ben wasn’t sure how to respond. “Excuse me? Brazil? The country?”
“That was a friend of mine from college. He told me Drache Global had surfaced down there, and that he thinks they’re planning something again.”
Ben felt his blood run cold. Drache Global. After he’d spent two months trying to research what the company actually did — and more importantly, who was behind it — he’d all but lost hope. The government, if they knew anything at all, wasn’t offering any help, and Julie’s position at the CDC hadn’t been quite high enough for her to negotiate anything useful.
All he knew was that they were one of the subsidiaries of the real organization behind the attacks at Yellowstone National Park months earlier, and they’d mostly gotten away with the act of terror. No one but Ben and Julie knew how close the nation had come to total destruction, and he made a vow to himself that he’d never stop looking for them. They had a few different names of other subsidiaries that might be involved, including Dragonstone and Drage Medisinsk, but searches for those companies only turned up public information on their dealings in whichever countries they operated. Nothing illegal, nothing that might link them to the attacks, and nothing for Ben to follow. He’d already spent too many waking hours trying to find and follow a thread, and he’d nearly thrown in the towel.
Now, someone was handing them a lead, beckoning.
He’d be damned if he let the opportunity slip through his fingers.
