by D S Kane
“Why would another startup threaten violence?”
Jon had enough time to think before he heard this question, and he’d already imagined an answer. “Cancer cure. Big Pharma. They’re almost always sore losers.”
Tremain continued to stare at Jon. Jon could tell he wasn’t convinced that this was true. But the best tactic Jon could muster was silence and a nodding head.
He wondered if Tremain and his cofounders would sign the documents.
“Mr. Sommers, I’m getting the impression that there’s more here and you aren’t able or willing to tell me what it is.”
Jon was now sure Tremain would detect any lie he heard. Nothing less than the truth—the full truth—would pass muster with Tremain and his cofounders. He opened both empty hands, an ancient gesture showing he held no weapon. “Daniel, there is something more. Abah Investments is owned by a paramilitary force of the United Nations. Recently, the plans for a weaponized product had been stolen from one of the more prominent member nations. Their startup team members were murdered. The nation in question sent a team posing as cofounders of a startup out to investigate and to determine which corporation or which government was guilty of the theft and murders, but they, too, were murdered. I was sent out with the assignment of recruiting a team of startup executives and running them to see who had caused the theft and murders. In return for helping us, we will fund your team all the way through its IPO.”
Jon took a deep breath and sank deep into his seat.
Daniel Tremain shook his head. He handed Jon back the documents and rose from his seat. “We’re not into doing any dangerous stuff. Sorry. Good luck finding someone crazy enough to help you.” Tremain walked away, through the doorway and out into the quad.
Jon’s jaw had opened but he could speak no words.
* * *
Laura visited every site on her list in one day. Most of her visits were brief. She found she couldn’t concentrate for very long. Still, she didn’t think any of them was worth a second visit, although the Calle Palma’s shops, restaurants, and cafés were enough to amuse her for most of the afternoon before siesta started.
But now, as sunset brought on a starry night, she felt terribly alone. She had the cook make her a light dinner and selected a book to read. Frank had accumulated a sizable library and it was entirely in English. She decided to read one of DS Kane’s novels, Swiftshadow, a story about a female spy who was fired after her cover was blown by a mole from her own intelligence agency.
She stopped reading at one of the more violent passages and saw the clock on the wall of her room. It was after midnight. Reluctantly, she put the book on her nightstand, open to the page where she’d stopped reading. It was a page where the protagonist was tortured.
Laura turned out the light and drew the covers to her chin. When sleep came, it brought another nightmare.
She was once again in the kitchen of the house where she grew up. As before, it was the night her mother died. But this time, she opened the silverware drawer and picked up a long-bladed chef’s knife. The house was silent as she walked up the stairs. Her father was down the hall in the bathroom. Laura opened the bedroom door and saw her mother in front of the mirror that was mounted on the closet door. Her mother was naked, standing next to a naked strange man. Laura sneaked up behind her mother and plunged the knife into her neck. Blood spurted from her mother as she turned around to face her daughter. Laura held onto the knife and thrust it into her mother’s gut, then into her mother’s chest. As her mother’s body slumped to the floor, she cornered and gutted the strange man. Just then, her father walked into the bedroom and she could see the shock on his face.
She woke sodden with perspiration. Somehow, this dream seemed more vivid than any of the others that she had ever had.
She lay awake wondering if it was she and not her father who had murdered her mother.
Chapter 23
Sturgess Technology, Atlanta, GA
September 20, 9:46 a.m.
Frank Lucessi arrived early for his board meeting with the cofounders of Sturgess Technology. He sat in his rental car in the parking lot as the rain pounded down outside. About a hundred feet away was the office park that housed over fifty small companies. He stared at the modern building as he drew his cellphone from his pocket. Time to call Laura.
He called her number and waited. One, two, three rings, then voicemail. His face scrunched. “Hi, sweet, it’s Frank. I’m in Atlanta this morning. Another board meeting. I miss you. I’ll try again later.”
This was the third straight call he’d made to her that went to voicemail. Was something wrong with her cellphone? His next thought sent a shiver down his spine. Is she angry with me for traveling while she waits alone for me?
The alarm he’d set on his watch buzzed, reminding him he needed to hurry to his appointment.
He pulled his umbrella from the back seat, opened the car door, and walked toward the sleek, black, glass-front building that housed Sturgess. The lobby contained modern furnishings and a digital directory. Sturgess was on the fifth floor. He took the elevator up to the fifth and exited. The color scheme was monochromatic: black floor, gray walls, white ceiling. He swiveled his head to see where the suite housing Sturgess was located. He turned left, away from the elevator bank, and saw the door to the public men’s room. Frank entered. After drawing his comb through his hair, he left the restroom and walked to the entrance to the Sturgess office. The entrance’s black glass door led him into an almost empty, professional-looking seating area, more like those for a doctor’s office than a startup. There was a single desk with a young woman seated behind.
Frank announced himself. She told him to take a seat and offered him coffee, but he declined.
He thought about Laura but his vision of her was interrupted by a man wearing a sharp business suit. The man had a crew cut and wore a smile. “I’m Richard Stein. You’re Frank Lucessi?”
Frank nodded and rose from his seat. He extended his hand, but Richard had already turned and was walking away. Frank followed him down the hallway to an elegant conference room filled with impressive equipment and a group of older men.
Richard told Frank, “Have a seat.” Richard took one of the two empty seats. That left only one seat open seat at the large oval Beachwood table, and Frank took it.
Richard spoke in a whisper to another of those seated. The other flipped a switch at the tabletop and three very large wall monitors came to life, each showing one face.
Richard spoke to the monitors. “We’re all assembled and ready to begin. This is the first board of directors meeting for Sturgess Technology. Present are myself, Richard Stein, our CTO and EVP of technology development. Please, can the others seated also introduce themselves?”
In all, seven people sitting around the conference room table spoke briefly, saying their names and titles. Frank knew he’d never remember them. He typed furiously fast. He’d correct the misspellings when he was alone.
Then the faces on the monitors introduced themselves. Frank was surprised to see that two of them were the heads of major venture capital firms that he’d read about, and the third monitor showed the face of a member of the Pentagon’s Joint Chiefs.
This startup is already beyond Robert Randall’s control. He said nothing else for the hour until the meeting ended.
* * *
The rising sun had lightened Jon’s room at the Four Seasons Hotel Silicon Valley in East Palo Alto. International. Cassie tapped her foot with nervousness as she listened to Jon’s tale of failure. She felt her face hot with anger. “You told him the truth? What the fuck, Jon! We’re screwed.”
Jon shrugged. “I was caught. I tried to think of a convincing lie, but nothing came to me. Sorry. We still have four others.”
She shook her head. In a much calmer voice, she said, “Let me try. I can do the rest of them.” She pulled the paper list from Jon’s hands. “So, the next is Robert Nachez and his startup is HeadCloud.” She turned to her n
otebook screen and brought up HeadCloud’s webpage. It seemed that HeadCloud was a well-encrypted data cloud capable of defending itself from DDOS attacks and other hacks. They weren’t looking for much cash. Just a small seed round of a half million USD. She copied the phone number and other data into her cell and left Jon’s room.
She’d cooled enough to sound human by the time she reached her and Lee’s room at the Stanford Park Hotel. He wasn’t there. Probably out for his morning run. She sat at the desk and punched in HeadCloud’s phone number.
She heard a genderless voice answer with “HeadCloud. Safety in the wilderness. How can I help you?”
“My name is Cassandra Sashakovich. I’m an angel funder, and I’ve read about you. Are you still raising a round of capital?”
“One second. I’ll route your call to our CFO.”
Cassie smiled. Time to hunt.
* * *
As the sun reached its daily zenith, Laura dragged herself from her bed. She searched for her cellphone, then realized it was gone. She stood thinking about what had happened since the last time she had touched it. Eventually, she remembered the stranger who bumped into her the day before, while she was touring the last art gallery in Asunción. Was that when it was stolen? It was a mediocre gallery, and it hadn’t made either of the first two lists she’d made. She was sure he must have stolen her cellphone while she was occupied with buying a blue vase at the museum shop.
She walked to the bathroom and pushed herself through the act of washing up before she took the stairs down to the kitchen to get coffee and breakfast.
She wondered if Frank had tried calling her. Probably not. Most of the staff didn’t speak English, but Pedro did. She decided to ask him if Frank had called the compound. Then she thought Frank was probably fucking another young woman. What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t I enough? She wanted to kill him.
* * *
Robert Randall waited in the reception room outside Daniel Strumler’s hotel room. He’d arrived on time and an hour had passed. He heard the door to the inner sanctum open and a suited man emerged, one wired ear containing a pigtail earbud wired to a radio, a definite sign the man was Secret Service. Randall rose. The suited man nodded and pointed his head back at the door.
Inside, Strumler sat at the desk, wearing his bathrobe. “Hi. You’re Randall, right?”
Richard nodded. “Sir, I’m here to update you on the current threats to America.”
Strumler shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. Threats, blah-blah. Okay, I can give you, ah…”—he looked at his watch—“three minutes. Starting right now.” He waved Randall to the single chair exactly four feet away.
Randall sat. “First let me remind you that everything I tell you in this briefing is classified.” He stared at Strumler, and Strumler nodded. “Okay then. I’ll start with North Korea, then update you on the Middle East.” Randall opened the folder he’d brought with him and handed a small stack of pages to Strumler. “North Korea is currently completing the final stages of testing a thermonuclear-carrying ballistic missile system. Each missile will be able to carry a multimegaton warhead all the way to Washington DC.”
“What have we done to keep them from completing this?”
Randall had memorized the notes that he’d received. He said, “We’ve sent a team from the agency to see if we can terminate their leader. That was several months ago. So far, we’ve heard nothing from the team. We’ve concluded that they were neutralized, and if so, then the North Koreans know our intentions. We’ve summoned members of Congress who are friendly and they have introduced a bill to slap further sanctions on trade in and out of their country. So far, that hasn’t worked to slow them down.”
Strumler shook his head. “If I’m elected, I’ll nuke them the day after I take office. Would it help to spread that as a news item?”
“Sir, that might make them accelerate their development of the missile system.”
Strumler sat silent for a few seconds. “What about China? Can they help us?”
“Sir, you’ve already accused China of currency manipulation and a few other nasty things. China is helping North Korea because it will take the pressure off them.”
Strumler’s lips trembled. “Fuck this. Okay, we’re done for today. Tell me about the Middle East the next time we meet. Next week.”
Randall jaw dropped just a bit. “Sir, these threat assessments are supposed to happen daily.”
“Yeah, well, that isn’t gonna happen. I can make a few minutes next Tuesday when I’m back in New York.”
“But—”
“Go. Now. I have a tight schedule.” Strumler pressed a button on the desk and the door to the suite opened.
The Secret Service man entered and touched Randall on the shoulder. “Please follow me.”
Randall left the room and the door closed behind him. Yes, the Director has handed me a turd. He brightened when he realized Strumler might actually be useful to him. He needed to make a plan.
Chapter 24
Stanford University library, Palo Alto, CA
September 24, 2:16 p.m.
Sitting in a carrel in the Stanford library, Cassandra Sashakovich touched her chin with her left hand as she scanned the list of “pretenders.” She had closed deals with eight of ten. One remained unsigned, and there was the one that Jon failed to close. She drew her notebook computer from her briefcase and sipped coffee while she waited for Arthur Creeg, CEO of Underwire Software to appear for their second and final meeting. While she waited, she tried to meditate.
Time passed while she considered her role and what attitude would best suit her for this last startup CEO. Creeg was the oldest of the startup cofounders, and had completed two advanced degrees. One of his master’s was in computer science and the other was in business administration. Cassie had earned her MBA at Stanford in finance, but that was twelve years ago. Creeg had been involved in two prior startups, one as the chief tech officer and the other as the head of IP operations. Both had failed. He’d been looking for a seed investor for two months. The business plan he had sent Cassie was for an artificial intelligence product that a business could use to run a factory. She noted that the software could easily be modified to produce any product, including weapons.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when her phone buzzed in her suit pocket. She looked at its screen. Creeg was at the library’s front door and so, now it was time for them to meet. She examined her reflection in the glass of the nearby window. Her navy blue suit and white shirt were wrinkle free. The bow tie she had donned needed straightening and she attended to it before heading from the carrel to the lobby of the library. She had no picture of Creeg, but the single person waiting in the lobby had to be him. He was at least six inches taller than Cassie, and would be staring down at her. This was one advantage she would have to counter for this meeting to yield the results she hoped for. She modified her attitude for the meeting. I’ll have him sit with the sun in his eyes and my face in shade.
“Mr. Creeg?”
“Ah, yes. You must be Ms. Sashakovich.”
“Let’s find a place to sit where we can discuss my offer and its terms.” She led him to the back of the library, away from the tables and the carrels. Adjacent to the entrance to the cafeteria was a formal meeting room with a conference table and rolling chairs. The room was dark but she opened the window shades and shut the door to diminish the outside noise of students hurrying to and from their classes. She left the room’s lights off, then pointed to a chair facing the windows, directly across the table from where she sat with her back to the windows. “I have reviewed your business plan. I also read the bios of your cofounders. It appears you need five hundred thousand. But your pre-money valuation is just over one mil. How far do you expect to get on product development with that little cash?”
“We, ah, we’re hoping to complete the prototype with that much cash. Of course it won’t be enough for a truly robust model, but we think it will be enough to interest invest
ors for a second round.”
Cassie turned her focus inward. She needed to appear to be considering the risk of the investment. In reality, she was trying to find a way to inspire Creeg to worry about what he’d been led to believe was a sure thing. She could smell the fear she was sure he was feeling. He had a nervous tic in the side of his cheek. She pushed her chair back, as if she was preparing to rise from her seat. “What if it takes longer?” She saw him gulp.
“I, ah, we’re sure we can make sufficient progress on the prototype to earn a first full round. If not, we’ll see if we can convince our investors to extend a small amount of additional cash as a convertible loan.”
Cassie noted perspiration forming under his eyes. “Would the terms of that loan be negotiable?” She stared into his eyes.
“I’m sure we could come to an agreement. That is, if you’re still interested in the product we hope ultimately to develop.”
It was now time to give him back just a tiny bit of the confidence she had just robbed from him. She drew the contracts from her attaché case. “Good. In a startup, flexibility is necessary. Please note, we will seek additional investors if and when we find them. And we have right of first refusal on any other investors that you find or have independently come to you. It’s in the contracts on page three, paragraph thirteen. Agreed?”
When he nodded, she handed him the stack of paper.
“Initial every page and sign where the yellow tapes indicate.”
Arthur Creeg did as he was ordered.
* * *
Frank Lucessi shook hands with the CEO of yet another startup and walked to his car in the parking lot. It was his twenty-third board meeting in three weeks. There had been so many that his notes were the only thing differentiating them in his mind. He sat in the driver’s seat of his car and, once again, typed an update for Robert Randall. The startup he’d just met with had already attained advanced status as far as Frank was concerned. Their product would be one of the stars of the portfolio Randall had given him.
