Off The Grid

by Dan Kolbet

  The StuTech main office was located upstairs. The staff provided Rachel a desk by a window overlooking the street. She looked out the window while her laptop was booting up. The street looked like old movies that depicted the American industrial revolution, hazy and gray. Able-bodied men crowded the streets. They stood in bunches on corners, hollering to women who passed by. Several women were working the crowd, but didn’t seem to find any takers.

  “The employed men are working at the factory,” Reynolds said, joining her at the window. “These fools are just waiting for a chance.”

  “We’ve only been on the ground here for six months. Are we already that big a piece of the economy?”

  “Without StuTech, there is no economy.”

  “Amazing how fast that happened.”

  “Not really,” Reynolds said. “You are providing jobs and power where before there were neither. People want to work and have moved here to find jobs. Your biggest concern now should be crime against your workers. Last week two men were beaten to death on their way home from the bar.”

  “Do the police know why?”

  “Police? No, they don’t know, but you don’t have to be Scotland Yard to know that two new positions opened up at the construction site pretty quick.”

  Rachel considered it. Could jobs be worth killing over? It didn’t seem possible, even under the most dire circumstances.

  “I’ve got a few things I want to review here before going to the hotel for the night. Will you wait for me?”

  “I’ve been assigned to you exclusively.”

  “All day?”

  “Twenty-four hours a day while you’re here.”

  “I’d also like to go up to the factory tomorrow first thing.“

  “I’ll call ahead and have everything ready.”

  “Give me an hour and we’ll go to the hotel so I can get some sleep.”

  ***

  Rachel took her cell phone off the nightstand and looked at the time. It was nearly 3 a.m. and she hadn’t slept at all. She liked visiting new places, but it was draining and took her out of her comfort zone. She glanced around her room at the small inn where she was staying. It sounded crazy, but it was a little too nice. It was nothing special, but her tastes had become accustom to cots and sleeping bags, not bed ruffles and running water. She didn’t expect to fall asleep.

  She slipped on a pair of black jogging pants and a T-Shirt and headed down the creaky stairs to the main living area. The rest of the house was quiet. She was surprised to find the front door locked tight. She flipped the latch and took a seat on a wicker chair facing the town to the east and the river to the west. Despite the early hour, the air was warm and inviting.

  She marveled at the tiny town. Less than six months ago it was as dark and desolate as any nearby town, but with one simple decision by StuTech, the place was suddenly a boomtown. Wielding that much authority was a frightening thing. She wished that she knew for certain that the right people were making those decisions. Her father had once told her that he never wanted to be bogged down with the responsibility of running a huge company, but his creation required it. Only he knew “the secret sauce,” he’d say. Over the years he slowly stepped away, giving more and more authority to his subordinates, while still retaining central management.

  She suspected that part of the reason he asked her to travel to these outreach project locations is to gain an insight that he wasn’t getting from his managers. She might be estranged from her father, but they were still blood.

  She’d found that reviewing the accounting logs of the personnel on the ground was an enlightening way to gain an understanding of the projects. She could have seen the same numbers back in Seattle, but being able to see the new water well, x-ray machine, thousands of mosquito nets or even a factory in use was preferable to a desk in a high-rise. She was proud of the work they were doing. Giving this little country a chance to be respected by its European neighbors while giving its people a better life.

  She had only gotten the chance to give the Arionesti books a cursory review earlier in the day. The business here was more complex than the others, with multiple locations, wages, and contractors.

  They were spending a great deal of cash - nearly $50,000 American every single day. She hadn’t seen the return on investment yet. She was eager to visit the factory building site that was at the heart of the company’s spending.

  Before she knew it, her head was leaned up against the back of the chair and the warm night air helped her doze off into a deep slumber. She was still out two hours later when a string of SUVs rolled past the inn, headed toward the StuTech factory, long before the sun was up and any construction could possibly start.

  Chapter 33

  Reynolds arrived at Rachel’s door at 7:15 with a large cup of hot coffee for her. He was again wearing the black leather jacket, his sunglasses dangled from the front pocket.

  “How did you sleep?” he asked.

  “Well enough,” she said. “Are we ready to go?”

  “I thought we’d grab breakfast with the innkeeper downstairs first, then head out.”

  “That’s fine.”

  The innkeeper was an elderly man who didn’t get many guests. There wasn’t really anything to visit in the area, but he kept the rooms open in the off chance that someone might stop overnight. His grandson, a 16-year-old boy named Mikhail cooked eggs and toast. Mikhail had a slight build and mousy brown hair. They all sat down at the kitchen table together.

  “You are from America?” the teenager asked.

  “Yes, Seattle. It’s on-“

  “The Pacific Ocean below Canada. I know,” he said obviously excited to share his knowledge. “I studied America in school. Do you think I could go there someday?”

  “I think we’d be lucky to have you.”

  “How about a job with your company? I’ll work very hard. I won’t cause any trouble. Promise.”

  Reynolds spoke to Mikhail harshly in Romanian. Mikhail, turned his back on the table and fiddled with the stove.

  “He doesn’t know his place,” Reynolds said.

  “It’s quite all right, really,” Rachel said. “I think having dreams is a valuable character trait. What sort of job would you like to have Mikhail?”

  “I don’t want to work for my grandfather. I’m small, but strong. I can do anything the others do. They won’t give me a chance because I’m too young, they say.”

  “You applied for a construction job?”

  “I tried, but they won’t have me. They need special skills. More than just builders.”

  “I’ll tell you what, maybe I can put in a good word for you. Would that be OK?”

  “Very much so, thank you.”

  He heaped another serving of eggs on her plate with a huge grin on his face.

  ***

  “Why did you tell the innkeeper’s grandson that you could get him a job?” Reynolds asked as they drove to the factory. “Boys like that don’t know enough about the world to take a job here.”

  “How do you mean?” Rachel asked. “And I didn’t promise him a job. I said I’d look into it.”

  “He doesn’t know the difference. There are very few jobs in this country and even less in this region. You have your pick of workers. Why pick one who is so young and small?”

  “Experience and girth aren’t the only things that qualify people for employment. How would it have sounded if I told him that he had no chance whatsoever to get a good job someday? That he shouldn’t dream of coming to the U.S.?”

  “You are filling his head with false hopes,” Reynolds said. “It’s not safe for him to want these things.”

  “I disagree. It’s not safe for him to have his fate determined by someone else or tradition for tradition’s sake alone.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence.

  The massive factory came into view from a mile away. The white eight-story structure was enormous, jutting out of the ground like a cinder block. A checker box
of large windows filled half of the building. The other half was barren, no windows at all. From the outside it looked completely finished. You could park the space shuttle in that thing, she thought.

  Reynolds rolled down his window and showed the security guard his ID before they were allowed to proceed past the locked gate. Bulldozers and other large industrial construction equipment littered the dirt lots around the building. They had to traverse huge puddles of water as they twisted and turned toward the entrance.

  “The building could hold three full football fields if it wasn’t broken up into manufacturing areas. The inside of the building is still months away from completion, but you’ll be able to look at the areas that are finished. It’s really quite impressive. Nothing like it has ever been built here. The locals call it The Block.”

  An empty cubical farm was just inside the building’s main entrance. A series of hallways and offices were unfinished and dark. No one was working in those areas. A large auditorium-style classroom was finished. The chairs had fold out desks and power outlets for computers. Rachel could hear the distinct sounds of construction work happening through the auditorium walls. When Reynolds led her to the main floor she could see why. Dozens of men were working on the factory’s polished concrete floor. Some were setting up machinery. Others were welding together steel beams that rose to the full height of the ceiling.

  “The Block is divided in half,” he pointed to their left. “We’re only working to develop this half now.”

  “What’s in the other half?”

  “Storage. They didn’t even put in the floor, but they needed the structural support from the full space so they decided to build it larger than they needed it the first time, rather than going back later. There’s no question that the space will be needed once production begins.”

  A crane attached to a rail and pulley system dropped down in front of them. A worker secured a collection of beams on both ends and gave the signal for the operator to hoist up the load. It swung back and forth over the heads of the workers. The crane moved down the rail to the opposite end of the warehouse near six garage doors that were large enough to drive a semi truck through.

  “Once they get all the foundation equipment set up this will be the first European manufacturing facility for the towers and stubs.”

  “I expected something large, based on our financial spend, but I didn’t know that we were already building a manufacturing plant here. It’s listed in the accounting records as an unoccupied warehouse.”

  “Accounting records are notoriously bad around here,” he said dryly.

  “Good to know.”

  Rachel had never seen the inside of a StuTech manufacturing plant before. All of the towers and stubs were currently being made in Pueblo Bluff, Colorado. It made sense from a diversification standpoint to globalize their operations, but the choice of Moldova was still puzzling. No major highway. No airport. The train station was antiquated. There wasn’t even a port of entry on the river and besides – the river didn’t lead to a shipping lane on the ocean. How were they supposed to get their products to market?

  These questions filled her head when, with no warning the ground underneath Rachel’s feet shook violently, tossing her and Reynolds to the ground. An earthquake, she thought. A loud hydraulic whine filled The Block, even as the workers lost grip on their equipment and fell silent. Rachel estimated that it only lasted three or four seconds, but it was enough to take her breath away. Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped. The workers went back to their various jobs with no conversation about what they just experienced.

  “What the hell was that?” Rachel asked, standing up, but bracing herself against a wall.

  “Oh, that’s nothing. The ground is still settling from the pilings the workers had to build to support the frame of the building. It gives a little tussle now and then. No worries.”

  “That’s normal settling?”

  “I don’t know about normal, but its not uncommon. All the men know what to do when they feel a jolt coming on.”

  “So you call that a jolt?”

  “It usually only happens once a day, so chin up. It probably won’t happen again.”

  “How comforting.”

  Rachel toured the plant floor for the next hour or so, taking special care to note the devices being installed on the floor so she could audit the “notoriously bad” accounting records. The workers kept their distance, allowing her to move around freely. She knew they didn’t speak English, so she refrained from asking questions about what they were building.

  Reynolds stayed on the perimeter of the building, smoking his cigarettes and chatting with the workers. She’d never asked him what exactly his job duties were, but he seemed to know everyone at The Block.

  When she finished her inspection of the factory, she tried to get into the unfinished half of the massive structure, but the doors were locked. She stepped outside and didn’t see another entrance there either. She walked the perimeter and saw that there were more massive garage doors on the other side of the building. Reynolds had said they hadn’t even installed a floor on the storage side, but there were well-worn ruts in the dirt where trucks had driven through the doors into the building.

  She went in search of Reynolds to get a key for the storage area. He wasn’t on the floor, so she wandered though the empty hallways and offices. The maze of space looked like a traditional office setting, minus the workers. Desks, computers and phones were all brand new and ready for use. When she reached the second floor she saw there was a light coming from the end of the hallway. She could hear voices. She knocked on the door before opening it.

  It was an executive office. Inside were two leather sofas. On one was Reynolds, a cloud of smoke floating around his face. Sitting on the other sofa was Steve Lunsford.

  “Rachel my dear, just the person I was hoping to see.”

  Chapter 34

  “Reynolds, would you excuse us for a few minutes?” Lunsford said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Certainly,” the cloud of smoke followed him out into the hallway.

  Rachel knew Lunsford by reputation only. They didn’t exactly run in the same circles. Growing up, Lunsford would be at the house often, but she wasn’t involved in those visits.

  “Please have a seat,” Lunsford said.

  “Mr. Lunsford-“

  “Please, call me Steve. We’re practically family, I’ve known you since you were born.”

  “OK, then. Steve. What brings you to Moldova?”

  “I wanted to check out this place of course. I was in the Ukraine looking into some suppliers for our European launch.”

  “Are you on the purchasing and supply chain side now too?”

  “No, but all our supplier relationships are brand new. We need to ensure that we know who we are dealing with. These are very lucrative contracts. We don’t want to strike deals with the wrong element. We’ve got to set a tone for our efforts abroad.”

  “I see.”

  Lunsford pulled a red file folder from his briefcase and placed it on the table.

  “There is another matter I’d like to discuss with you, but it’s sensitive. Would you like to discuss it here or go somewhere else?”

  “I’m fine here.”

  Obviously Lunsford being here wasn’t a simple coincidence.

  “It’s Luke. As you know he’s been working under my direction for the past 14 months or so. I know that you were not happy that we selected him for the assignment, but he was the right guy and I don’t regret his selection, even now.”

  “Is he OK? What’s the matter?”

  “I know you’ve been out of contact with him to keep his cover story and I truly thank you for keeping our little operation under wraps. Your understanding and cooperation is duly noted.”

  “Tell me what’s wrong with my fiancé?”

  “He is fine, but I’m afraid he has changed sides.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I think
MassEnergy offered him a deal that was better than we did. It’s my belief that he is working against StuTech. He is helping MassEnergy develop technology that will serve as a direct competition to us.”

  “Why would you think that? You sent him there to learn their secrets. How can you be sure he’s not simply doing what you trained him to do?”

  “My dear, I’m good, but not this good.”

  He opened up the red folder and handed her three photographs. The first was of Luke talking to a woman in a park. They were dressed in workout clothes and Luke was holding a soccer ball. The next photo showed the same woman with Luke at a swank restaurant. There were glasses of wine on the table.

  But it was the last photograph that completed the picture. It was Luke and the woman kissing on a downtown street. Her arms were wrapped around the back of his neck.

  Lunsford watched her face and neck blush with color -emotions she couldn’t hide.

  “Why would you show me this? What possible good would it do?”

  “I thought that given our long history you deserved to know that your fiancé is either a very good actor or he’s getting some on the side. The woman’s name is Kathryn Tate, she is his supervisor at MassEnergy. She’s a very attractive woman, I understand why he-“

  “Enough! No, that’s not my Luke. I refuse to believe that this is what you are saying it is. We’re getting married. Jesus! I need to speak with Luke immediately. Where is he? What’s the number?”

  “That’s part of my concern. He’s stopped checking in with me. We made an arrangement that regardless of what he was up to, that he would provide me a status update. It’s been over a week since I’ve heard from him.”

  “Then he’s probably in Portland,” she said. “Why didn’t you just go see him? Get an update. Straighten all this out.”

  “I did go see him. I’m feeling very uncomfortable telling you this, I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry for what? Spit it out.”

  Rachel was growing more and more frustrated with Lunsford. Despite his repeated apologies, he seemed to be enjoying parsing out little bits of information at a time.