by Marc Jedel
“Yours, too? Are you ok?” I asked.
Meghan’s voice steadied. “Yeah, I’m fine. What do you mean by ‘yours, too’?”
“Someone broke into Laney’s house yesterday.”
“That’s too weird. Now I’m scared.”
“Did you call the police?” I asked.
“Yes. As soon as I saw my front door was ajar, I ran over to a neighbor’s house. I called you because, I thought, maybe, you were right about some strange connection between me and Laney. This could have been them harassing me, but it feels different. They ignored me all day at work. Why would they break into my house?”
“I don’t know.”
“This is too much, though. Why would someone break into my home and hers?” Without waiting for a response, Meghan added, “Hey, the Campbell police are just pulling up. Can we talk later?”
“Yes. Definitely.” My father didn’t raise an idiot. A woman asks if she can call, there’s only one answer. I also wanted to figure out why someone broke into her home and Laney’s.
I almost called Mace. He should know about this. Yet, yesterday, I’d promised Meghan that I wouldn’t tell anyone else about her situation. Besides, after my calls to Mace this week, he’d think I sounded like the boy who cried wolf once too often. I’d need to talk to Meghan first and convince her to tell Mace what had happened. Mace would believe her. Tag team was my new strategy.
My mind whirling, I turned back to Fernando. “I’m so sorry, but my, um, daughter, doesn’t have her key. I need to go home to let her in.” Did it count as a lie if it actually happened yesterday?
“Of course, of course. Family is the most important thing. You must go to her now. We can do the test drive some other time.” Fernando looked down and his face again turned red. “Perhaps you could do a small favor for me?”
“Sure,” I answered before I’d fully thought through my words. After all, we had drunk mate together. Now, we were friends. I held my breath, hoping he wasn’t an engineer, who moonlighted as a South American drug lord, rampaging through the neighborhoods of Silicon Valley and about to pull me into some nefarious plot.
He turned bashful before almost whispering his request. “Would you mind submitting my resume for a job at Rover?” Fernando handed me a piece of paper that he grabbed off the table. “When you told me you worked at Rover, I printed a copy to give you.”
He grinned when I took it. “Do you want to take some steak with you?”
I did. “Wow. Thank you. That’s very nice. Maybe just a little bit.”
I left his house with my arms full. I nibbled the whole way back to the rental agency and as I waited for the Rover car to take me home. Sí, his meat was truly delicious.
When I returned to my building, I picked up Skye and Megan from Mrs. Kim’s apartment and brought them back to my place. They sat down on the couch and flipped on the television. After I put Fernando’s meat in the refrigerator, I checked the pockets from last night’s pants for the business card. Pulling it out, I compared the number to the one I’d called today from Laney’s calendar.
My breath caught in my throat. It was a different number. As I’d started to suspect once I’d met him, I had visited the wrong Fernando Hernandez. Somewhere in Silicon Valley, Fernando Hernandez, the gang leader and maybe drug lord, didn’t get his test drive in a red, Land Rover today. I had left him hanging while I enjoyed my Fernando’s grilling prowess. Now the men from El Salvador Restaurante would come find me and Laney. They promised that I wouldn’t like that.
Heart beating in my ears again, I pulled out my phone to call Sergeant Jackson for help. For once, I paused before I dialed him. What would I tell him? Mace wouldn’t appreciate that I had gone to check out a suspect, nor that I had rented a red Land Rover to go visit the suspect’s house alone. Laney wouldn’t like learning that I had taken her girls into a drug gang’s hangout, regardless of how delicious their food was. At least the gang didn’t know where Laney or I lived. I’d have to go in the back door at the Rover offices for a while until they forgot about me.
I put my phone back in my pocket, proud of my careful reasoning. I wouldn’t return to the restaurant. Gangs must have more important issues to handle than tracking down rogue software engineers. I’d never see the gang again. I hope.
I sat down at the desk in my home office. Laney might have her work cut out for her, from an HR perspective, with the engineer Fernando. But at least, she didn’t have anything to fear from this Fernando except high cholesterol. I put his resume into my bag to bring to the office. I wouldn’t mind having my new friend, the meat grilling genius, Fernando Hernandez join Rover. He’d certainly make our potluck lunches much tastier. Perhaps I could talk him into bringing something from his grill on birthday cake days.
Leaning back in my chair at my desk, I finally had a few minutes to think. I realized I hadn’t followed up with Jean Rollag since I’d decided not to leave him a voicemail on Wednesday. Although I couldn’t be certain that the meat-loving Fernando was merely a random client of Laney’s, he didn’t seem like the type to attack her.
Rollag still felt like the most likely suspect. He’d want to quiet Laney and his old friend, Sierra, so his long-ago Stanford bribery wouldn’t cost him billions in the upcoming IPO. He might have dropped the drone on her car from a floating hammock in a secret lab inside DroneTech. If I told him that I also knew about his bribe to Sierra and was going to tell the world, perhaps that would stop him from trying to kill Laney. His secret would be out so there’d be no point in going after her again. That was all I cared about anyway.
I half-smiled at my own brilliant deductive reasoning. Mace would be impressed at how I solved the case. Not wanting the girls watching television to overhear me confronting their mother’s attacker, I closed the office doors before I called Rollag. Sitting down in my office chair again, I focused to collect my thoughts, then picked up my phone.
“’Lo, who’s this?” answered Rollag in a brusque voice.
“Hi, this is Marty Golden. I talked to you on Wednesday morning in the Starbucks about my sister, Laney, your HR consultant.”
“Oh yeah. Hang on while I step out of this meeting.” Rollag’s voice perked up after he was alone. “Is she interested?”
Ass. Did he think I’d interrupted his business meeting to pimp out my sister? “No, definitely not. I wanted you to know that your secret’s out. I know how you messed things up in college and I’m going to tell your VCs.”
This made Rollag angry. “Screw you. You think you’re going to blackmail me? The VCs already know about my arrest. Tell your sister to forget it, too. I’m no longer interested.”
“She’s never been interested in you!” What a complete jerk!
“Fine. I’m leaving tonight for a vacation in Australia anyway. Plenty of babes there. Don’t call me again.” Rollag hung up on me.
I was pissed all over again. Did all companies worth ten billion dollars have rude, arrogant founders? Did those go hand-in-hand?
Wait. What did he mean by his ‘arrest’? I’d only called to tell him that I knew of his bribe to Sierra.
I turned to my computer and started to search for anything online about Jean Rollag getting arrested. Nothing came up in the first few pages of the search. Although he was getting a lot of press recently, I found nothing about an arrest. But everything gets stored online these days. It would take a bit more effort. I tried some advanced search engines, the kind that engineers built because they thought they could outsmart the incumbents, but only other engineers used, and then they went bankrupt. Finally, I came across something. Something big. I checked one more website before leaning back in my chair.
Whoa. I needed to bounce this off someone. I called Raj. “Hi, it’s Marty. Any red alerts at work?”
“Ha! No, Captain Kirk. The boss beamed up to Palo Alto for some very important meetings this afternoon. We all live long and prosper today.” Raj sounded triumphant at managing to use Star Trek jargon on me for once.
“Good one.” I paused to appreciate his ability to incorporate lines from a 1960’s sci-fi series into his third spoken language. Before he could try Klingon, I said, “Hey, I found something weird about Rollag and I don’t know what to do next.”
“Did you find any Tribbles?”
Surprised to find I was too excited to banter further about Star Trek trivia, I told him, “I found an old article from a small tabloid in Australia called the Melbourne Observer. The headline read “UM Student Nabbed for Soliciting Prostitution.” You’ll never guess who the story was about?”
“Rollag,” answered Raj with uncomfortable directness. “You said you found something weird about Rollag, correct?”
I hadn’t expected him to answer my rhetorical question. “Yes, it was about him. Rich American college kid on a semester abroad program to Australia gets arrested during a vacation to Italy with a prostitute. As if going to Australia for college wasn’t enough of a vacation.”
I snorted in disgust at the thought. I never had that kind of luck. I worked hard in college and my parents didn’t have much money. No trips to Europe or Australia ever came my way. My biggest travel highlights during college were a few road trips in beat-up cars stuffed with enough guys to cover gas costs and share hotel rooms during Spring Breaks, all entirely self-funded. No indulgent, wealthy parents offered to fund my startup while I didn’t worry about finding a job. I wasn’t being entirely fair to Rollag, who had started his company while still in school and got venture funding lined up before graduating. I still didn’t like him.
Continuing, I said, “I’ll bet Rollag’s parents hired a lawyer to use Europe’s “right-to-be-forgotten” laws and remove mentions of his French arrest from search engines.”
“That must have been expensive,” said Raj.
“It does explain why we didn’t see the story when we looked Rollag up in the office earlier. But that’s not even the best part. You’ll never guess.” Unable to stay seated, I started pacing circles around my small home office.
“What?” Raj didn’t match my level of enthusiasm. After imitating the IRS badge and meeting the drug gang, he advocated a more cautious approach.
“Rollag’s bio on the DroneTech site says that he graduated from Stanford with honors.”
Raj switched into his didactic mode. “Graduating is very important. My parents worked extra jobs so my brother and I could both go to the Indian Institute of Technology. It is most prestigious college for engineering in all of India.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s impressive, like M.I.T. here.” I moved on. “But, Rollag bribed someone at Stanford to change his grades from his semester abroad in Australia. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to graduate from Stanford on time, or with honors.”
“That is most improper.” Raj sounded offended that someone would diminish the value of a degree from such a respected university by cheating.
“Exactly. He’s a liar and an arrogant ass. Now I know Rollag did two bad things. But his venture capitalists only know about one of them, I think. Remember the DroneTech story that their VCs had a reputational clause that gave them a much bigger share of the company if either of the founders had done anything that could damage the company’s reputation?”
“Ah. Now I understand. What is it that you will do now?”
Losing my adrenaline rush and worn out from the busy week, I sat down again at my desk. “I’m not sure. That’s why I called.”
“Do you really believe Rollag hurt your sister?” Raj sounded doubtful.
Now that he said it aloud, it did seem unlikely that a founder of a huge company could possibly be involved. “Maybe. I don’t know,” I said, frustrated with the whole situation. “Well, either way he doesn’t seem all that interested in doing anything else to hurt her. He told me he’s leaving the country for a vacation. At least he won’t be here to hurt her for a while.”
“Perhaps she is safe then? Or perhaps he hired someone? Or perhaps there is another reason she got hurt?” Raj neatly summarized the three options. I’d have preferred he simply solved the case.
“I don’t know. Maybe there is something else going on. I think I need to do a deep dive into Laney’s computer for —”
Raj cut me off. “Yes, yes. Search her computer, but no more visits to Fernando Hernandez.”
I must have had the right plan. Raj rarely interrupted others. Channeling my own Star Trek Captain Picard persona, I said, “I will make it so!”
We hung up so I could get to it. I considered telling Mace about Rollag’s secrets now. Rollag certainly had the motivation to keep his secret from getting released. Perhaps he’d hurt Laney in fear that she’d make them public. Mace might talk to him, but I still had no proof he had done anything to her.
Even if he hadn’t hurt her, Rollag was still offensive. Cosmic karma would get him. With a little help from me. I felt confident that the DroneTech venture capitalists would appreciate hearing my information about Rollag bribing Sierra so he could graduate. In fact, I envisioned billions of reasons why they’d find this news fascinating. I couldn’t stop an evil grin from spreading across my face. Most unattractive I’m sure, but at least I didn’t cackle.
Taking out Laney’s computer, I checked to see if she’d done more research on DroneTech. I hadn’t searched for Sierra Smith earlier. Laney had some brief notes from their conversation, but these only disclosed that they had discussed Rollag’s and Sanders’ escapades while at Stanford. Laney’s notes made no mention of bribery.
I’m a better fake IRS agent than Laney. I did a Megan-like chant in my head.
Reading further, I found that Laney had briefly listed Rollag’s earlier arrest as a detail from her initial meeting with the venture capitalists. Rollag hadn’t lied to me that the VCs knew about his arrest. But, they didn’t appear to know that he’d used bribery to graduate.
The evil smile crept back onto my face and then dissolved. Since Rollag had told me the truth about his arrest and Laney didn’t know of the bribe, then why would he want to hurt her? Without that tidbit, Laney had nothing that would damage him. I groaned in frustration. The whole week had gone by and I’d made no progress in protecting Laney. If Rollag didn’t do it, then who else wanted to hurt Laney?
26
Friday Dinner
My phone rang. Meghan’s name popped up on the display. After her previous call, I’d added her as a contact. I answered quickly, “Hi. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. A little scared, but okay. Whoever broke into my house didn’t take anything. They just made a weird circular mess in the rooms.”
The hairs rose on the back of my neck. “That’s exactly what happened at Laney’s house. It looked like they were searching for something but didn’t find it.”
Megan didn’t wait for me to finish speaking. “I’m almost finished straightening up and I need to get out of here. Now.” I heard drawers closing in the background. She sounded a bit out of breath as if she’d been rushing around cleaning up. “Did you eat dinner yet?” Her voice remained a bit shaky.
“No, not yet.” I could always eat.
I heard a car door slam. “Perhaps we could grab a bite and talk some more? What do you feel like?” Her voice calmed and also changed to that almost studio-like sound that meant she must be sitting in a closed car.
A date? Unsure of our status, I replied, “Anything except Mexican, Korean, or spaghetti.”
Meghan laughed as my answer distracted her. “Unusual response. There must be a good story there. How about meeting in thirty minutes for Chinese? I know a good place.”
Of course, I agreed. After we finished talking, I walked down the hallway to Mrs. Kim’s apartment. She gave an eager smile of agreement when I asked if she’d come over to have dinner and watch the girls tonight. I had enough meat leftover from Fernando to feed her and the two girls, and likely the rest of the neighborhood. Maybe she only agreed in order to get her teacups returned? Or maybe not. I didn’t understand it,
but she and the girls had formed a tight bond in only a few days.
Soon after, the Rover car dropped me at the small, Chinese restaurant that Meghan had suggested. Located in the small, downtown Campbell district, I figured it must be one of her neighborhood favorites. Meghan stood outside in a nice blouse, skirt and low heels. Thankful that I’d changed out of my work clothes into chinos, a button-down shirt and loafers just in case this was a date, I approached her. Glad these shoes didn’t smell.
I reached out to give her a handshake right as she leaned over to give me a hug. Awkward. Not quite friends, yet unsure if it was a date, the proper etiquette for the situation escaped me. I’d greet someone in a work setting with a handshake, a male friend with a pat on the shoulder or arm, or a close female friend with a hug or a kiss on the cheek. I couldn’t quite classify the woman who might be ensnarled in a plot that had triggered a near-lethal attack on my sister and left me with my two nieces.
Meghan extracted herself from our uncomfortable, failed greeting shake-hug and walked ahead of me into the restaurant. Her head scanning from side to side, she seemed to be checking out the place. I saw no gang members. Everything looked fine, even nice, to me. A large fish tank, stocked with colorful koi whose metallic scales glittered under bright lights, greeted us. Flanked on one side by a golden dragon statue and an intricately carved jade statue on the other, a host stand stood unguarded a few steps inside the door. Several elaborate fans attached across the white, painted walls rested between lantern-shaped, red and golden lamp sconces. A few couples occupied scattered tables, but otherwise, the place was quiet for a Friday evening. Meghan’s thorough assessment of the room complete, she relaxed. With nothing outwardly amiss, the place passed her review. I’m glad it met her standards because, after a week full of dinner mishaps and mayhem, a nice evening out for good Chinese food seemed appealing.
A young waitress, perhaps still in high school, nodded hello to us as she set a plate down on the table by an older couple. She came over to greet us and took us to a table near the back of the restaurant. Forks and paper napkins lay on top of paper placemats decorated with Chinese zodiac symbols. She handed us plastic menus. “Welcome. Can I get you something to drink?”
