by Beck Rowland
“Miss Ruiz, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I don’t believe I’m familiar with ZenCorp’s work,” he said. He had a deep, sonorous voice that Zenaida could practically feel in her bones.
“We’re a new venture, with a small footprint but a big mission,” Zenaida said. She was pretty sure she’d gotten that phrasing from a TED talk, but it seemed to fit. “Such a big mission, in fact, that your competitors were scared to even consider supporting us.”
Marten templed his fingers and peered down his nose at her. “Interesting. Do tell,” he said.
Zenaida retold the story, giving largely the same pitch she had given to the jokers at Cravath only hours before. As she spoke, Marten nodded at the appropriate places. He even asked short, clarifying questions where Zenaida skipped some critical detail. She felt encouraged. When she finished, she clapped her hands together and smiled.
“Which brings me to right now. ZenCorp will need a lawyer to fight these battles,” Zenaida said. “I know your firm isn’t cheap, but I’m prepared for that. Will you help us?”
Marten smiled. “Absolutely not,” he said.
Zenaida was crushed. “Why not?” she asked. She hated the plaintive note that entered her voice but found herself unable to restrain it.
Marten held up three fingers and ticked off the reasons. “One, our firm’s reputation would suffer if we were seen losing a case against such a prominent figure. We are exceedingly good at what we do, but Peeper’s legal team is no less capable. Challenging Tucksworth could potentially become a highly visible, highly public loss. The entire venture is an unacceptable risk. Two, this strange… vendetta you have against the ultra-rich is unseemly. It’s absurd. Even with the finest legal representation in town, a young lady with few million dollars to play with isn’t going to change the way corporations operate. I’m not only speaking on behalf of my own firm, mind you. I can say with some certitude that none of my competitors would take on something like this either.”
Zenaida sighed. “And the third reason?”
Marten hesitated. “H-have you met Tucksworth before?” he asked.
Zenaida shook her head. Seeing him at a distance in Parvenu was the closest she’d come.
“He’s a madman. Loud, imposing, belligerent. I.. I don’t mind telling you, I’m rather intimidated by him. The man’s reputation speaks for itself,” Marten said.
As Zenaida stood to leave, she looked down at Marten and shook her head. “Your daughter looks about my age. She probably uses Peeper too. It’s a shame her father couldn’t muster up the guts to stop the next major data breach from happening.”
Marten frowned, then stammered. Zenaida watched him for another moment, then turned towards the door.
“Wait!” Marten called. “There is one lawyer… Margaret Ortega. Harvard Law, passed the bar at 23, a few years at Kirkland & Ellis. She joined Tesla and quickly worked her way up the ranks. Rumor had it she was on the fast track to General Counsel. But then a month ago, she abruptly quit out of nowhere.”
“Why?” Zenaida asked. “What would make a rising star suddenly bail like that?”
“Nobody knows. Obviously something happened,” Marten said. “Perhaps she developed a conscience. Career suicide in our line of work.”
Zenaida nodded. “Just the sort of thing that could make her a good candidate for ZenCorp.”
“She’s still somewhere in my Rolodex. If you’d like, I can have my assistant make a call for you. Strictly off the record, of course.” Marten said.
“Thank you, Mr. Marten,” Zenaida said. “I’d actually like to pay a home call to Ms. Ortega. She may be just what I’m looking for.”
Margaret Ortega lived in a small, stylish condo overlooking the city park. Zenaida rang the doorbell and announced herself as ‘Chief Executive Officer at ZenCorp’ to the intercom. She adjusted her hair self-consciously, keenly aware that Ortega would be scrutinizing her through the camera. Zenaida knew she did not fit the profile of the typical executive.
Finally, Ortega buzzed her in. Zenaida jogged up the stairs and Margaret Ortega met her at the door. Tall and slender, with her long dark hair swept into a tight ponytail, Ortega radiated fierce intelligence. She welcomed Zenaida inside, gesturing her to a pair of recliners parked at opposite ends of a coffee table.
Zenaida took a seat, then looked around. The apartment was richly adorned, with a bookshelf of thick legal tomes, case histories, and academic treatises. Degrees and framed accolades adorned the walls. Zenaida decided Ortega was a woman rightfully proud of her accomplishments and competence. She also noticed the tissue box on the coffee table was empty; the trashcan was filled with crumpled white tissues. Ortega’s eyes were puffy, too. Zenaida made silent note of it.
“So... Bernard Marten said you had a job I might be interested in. I must say, this is my first time having an interview in my own living room. Do you visit all your prospective employers in person?” Ortega asked.
“You’re the first. Your legal experience is exactly what I’m looking for, so I wanted to get to know you a bit. See if you’re a good fit for ZenCorp,” Zenaida said. Although it was her first time interviewing someone, Zenaida realized she had perfectly adapted the lexicon of a typical company manager.
“Bernard was very light on the details. Some sort of special project? How about you ask your questions and confirm whether I’m a good fit before we get down to the details,” Ortega said.
“Well, let’s start with the obvious. Your legal credentials are clearly outstanding, but Mr. Marten mentioned that your last employment concluded abruptly. Do you mind telling me what happened at Tesla?” Zenaida asked.
Ortega sighed and ran a hand through her hair.
“It was nothing wrong with Tesla. Great company, fantastic team, no complaints,” Ortega said. “The problem was with a subcontractor, a mapping company called AmeriMaps GPS. They provide the road maps that power Tesla self-driving vehicles.”
“What was the issue?” Zenaida asked.
“Under the terms of our contract, AmeriMaps GPS was supposed to keep their maps at least 98% up-to-date. We couldn’t have Teslas driving passengers to dead-ends and closed roads, right? But this company just didn’t have the manpower. Tons of mistakes, missed updates, it was a mess. Their accuracy was around 72%.”
“AmeriMaps were breaking their contract with Tesla,” Zenaida said.
“Precisely. So as Senior Legal Executive at Tesla, I leaned hard on that company’s leadership. I threatened to sue them for breach of contract, threatened to end their relationship with Tesla-- I put the fear of God into them, you know? And it worked. Their accuracy rate shot up to 99% within six months.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming... Something must have gone wrong,” Zenaida ventured.
“AmeriMaps achieved that by forcing their tired, underpaid staff to work 14 hour shifts, back-to-back, for weeks in a row. One of their workers broke under the pressure. She… she took her own life. She was only a year younger than me,” Ortega said. She wouldn’t meet Zenaida’s gaze as she spoke. Instead, she stared at her hands curled in her lap.
“That wasn’t your fault. That was AmeriMaps management. You can’t hold yourself responsible--”
“But I did, and I still do. That’s why I left Tesla,” Ortega explained.
“What happened to the AmeriMaps management?” Zenaida asked.
“What do you mean? They sent out a condolences email, put up a suicide awareness poster in the break room, and went on with their lives,” Ortega said.
“No punishment, no remorse. Like nothing even happened,” Zenaida shook her head.
“That woman was the sole breadwinner for three kids and a sick grandmother. If I accept this job, that’s what my salary will be going towards.”
“If you accept the job?” Zenaida asked. She knew Ortega’s sudden departure from Tesla had weakened her marketability. She had figured Ortega would leap at the offer to work again.
&nbs
p; “I’m serious about taking care of that family, which means I need to be very selective when it comes to my next employer. A company run by, excuse my frankness, a very young woman, does not exude long-term stability. Young entrepreneurs abandon start-ups all the time. They change their mind, they chase new whims and fancies. How can I commit myself to a company when the owner could simply change their mind a few days later?”
“Fair enough. That actually makes perfect sense,” Zenaida admitted. “Excuse me for a moment.”
Zenaida pulled out her phone and retreated to the other side of the room, engaged in a long, quiet conversation. When she finally returned, her eyes carried a glint of conviction.
“I’ve just purchased AmeriMaps GPS for $11.2 million. That’s almost a quarter of my entire net worth. My first act as company owner will be to fire the entire management team, then hire new management to implement industry-leading worker protections. AmeriMaps will still be profitable, but never again at the expense of its employee’s wellbeing,” Zenaida said.
Ortega blinked, mouth slightly agape. She floundered for words, unsure how to respond.
“That’s... that’s a very kind gesture. Of course, it can’t undo what I’ve done,” Ortega said.
“Nothing can change the past,” Zenaida agreed. “But if you join my company, perhaps you can make up for it. ZenCorp is about creating a better future, where the ultra-rich are forced to do business with basic, fundamental decency and are penalized whenever they don’t. I bought AmeriMaps to illustrate my commitment to goal, and to show that I put my money where my mouth is. I’d love to have you join the ZenCorp team.”
Ortega stared at Zenaida with unabashed fascination. Zenaida could practically hear the gears turning as the woman tried to make sense of her. Then Ortega gave a small, subtle smile, and Zenaida knew that she had won.
“Alright.. Against my better judgment, I think I’m hooked. Consider me all aboard,” Ortega said finally. “Dios mio, guerrilla lawfare against the ultra-rich… Did you have a first target in mind?”
Zenaida took a breath. This was the point where the other lawyers had turned tail and fled. “When I first started college, my parents tried helping me pay tuition. Then they ran out of money, so I took out a student loan. Then that money ran out too, and I requested a second loan. That was when I learned my credit had been ruined by some teenage hacker in Romania. The kid got my information from a Peeper data leak,” she said.
“That must have been a nightmare to deal with,” Ortega said.
“It was terrible. I had to drop out of school, I couldn’t secure an apartment lease… The government made Peeper pay compensation to the people affected, but when I submitted my paperwork, they said it didn’t prove their leak was responsible for my poor credit,” Zenaida explained. “Peeper lost half the country’s data and ended up only paying out a few million dollars.”
“I remember that leak. We had a cybersecurity course back at Tesla, and they used Peeper’s security as an example of what not to do,” Ortega said.
“Well Peeper doesn’t remember, because despite losing 152 million people’s personal data, they’ve never been made to face any real consequences. Years of flagrant disregard for user privacy has earned Jack Tucksworth top billing on the ZenCorp hit list,” Zenaida declared.
Ortega burst out laughing, then sobered when she saw the look on Zenaida’s face.
“Wait, you are joking, right?” she asked. “Tucksworth is Mike Tyson, Ghengis Khan, and a rabid pitbull, all mixed together and poured into a hoody. Tucksworth would be suicide for a major corporation, let alone a tiny, brand new venture like ZenCorp. I know you must hate the man, but don’t you want to start with an easier target?”
“This isn’t about just getting revenge. In twenty one days, Tucksworth be fighting in court to acquire a revolutionary new program called DataVortex. It’ll turn Peeper into the digital gestapo on steroids. Tucksworth’s wealth will increase tenfold, and then when the data inevitably leaks, everyone else gets screwed even harder. That’s why we’re going to keep DataVortex out of Jack Tucksworth’s greedy hands, no matter what it takes.”
Ortega thought in silence for a long, ponderous moment. Better than anybody else, Ortega understood the cutthroat corporate world they would be entering. She took a deep breath, then sighed. “Well, I no longer have much of a career to protect… so, fine. You’re right. We can’t let Tucksworth get that program,” she said.
Zenaida grinned broadly and shook Ortega’s hand. “Welcome aboard,” she said.
“Aren’t we going to negotiate comp? My rates aren’t exactly cheap,” Ortega cautioned.
“Not a problem. You’ll work with the ZenCorp business consultant to work out the details,” Zenaida said. “He’ll be responsible for managing the company’s financial matters.”
“Alright, how can I reach him?” Ortega asked.
“You can’t yet,” Zenaida said as she got to her feet. “I’ve got to hire him first.”
Zenaida told the helicopter pilot she had one more stop to make that night. She had him fly her across town, then bring her down in an empty field adjacent to Murph’s gym. The pilot, billing her account in thirty minute increments, was all too happy to wait. Zenaida jogged across the street to Murph’s. The gym was open and she found Murph standing ringside, coaching a pair of gangly teenagers as they sparred.
“Hi Murph,” Zenaida said. The old man glanced over his shoulder, his face brightening immediately.
“Zeny! What brings you here at this time of day? No work today?” Murph asked.
“It’s actually work that brings me here. My company is looking for a Business Consultant, someone with expertise in the corporate world,” Zenaida said. She declined to mention that it was her company in a very literal sense. “Didn’t you say your son was looking for something like that? Do you think he’d be interested?”
Murph’s wizened face split into a huge grin.
“That’s so good of you, Zeny,” he said. “Mike’s been applying everywhere, but companies aren’t exactly leaping at the bit to hire ex-cons. They see the big employment gap, or they Google his name, and his resume probably ends up in trash shortly after that.”
“My company is pretty open-minded. Is Mike around? Perhaps I could speak with him?” Zenaida asked.
“Of course, come, come. He’s in my office right now, helping me with a few papers. I’m sure he’d love to work on something that provides an actual paycheck,” Murph said. He grabbed Zenaida by the arm and practically dragged her to the office, beaming with excitement.
Mike Gosling turned out to be a carbon copy of his father, only much younger. He didn’t look like Zenaida’s image of a guy who’d just gotten out of prison. If anything, Mike looked like a quiet, well-mannered accountant. He looked up from the desk and smiled when he saw Zenaida.
“You must be the girl my father is always raving about,” Mike said. He stood to shake her hand.
“This is her! Zenaida says her company is looking for a consultant... Zeny, take a seat and tell Mike all about it,” Murph said. He turned to his son with a stern look. “Mike, don’t mess this up!”
Murph shuffled Zenaida into the office then retreated, closing the door behind him. Zenaida and Mike regarded each other in silence for a moment before he spoke.
“Well Zenaida, it’s great to meet you and I appreciate you trying to help. I’m a little confused though. Why would your company want to hire me? There are a million Business Consultants out there without my record,” Mike said.
“You mean your record of standing up to a multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical giant in defense of your fellow man? That record, Mike? If that’s the record you’re talking about, that is exactly what ZenCorp is looking for,” Zenaida said.
Zenaida told Mike an abridged version of her life story. She started with the furious, helpless feeling she’d lived with for years, describing her futile struggle against grinding poverty. His eyes
went wide as she explained her sudden, dramatic change in fortunes. By the time she finished describing her plans for ZenCorp, Mike was already halfway convinced. After Zenaida told him the salary, he was all the way convinced.
“So you’re in?” Zenaida asked.
“We won’t be breaking any laws, right? It was bad enough for my father, being a retired Federal Agent, to see his son go to prison once. I can’t put him through that again,” Mike said.
“Absolutely nothing illegal, but don’t expect an easy ride either. ZenCorp is going after the rich and powerful, starting with a piece of work called Jack Tucksworth. People like that are going to fight back every step of the way,” Zenaida said.
“My answer is absolutely,” Mike said. He stood, shaking her hand again. “The rich pharma jerks that sent me to jail and ruined my life were hardly unique; they were part of an entire elite class that operates without conscience or consequences. This Tucksworth guy sounds like more of the same. Somebody has to do something, and it sounds like you have the resources to even the odds.”
“In that case, welcome to ZenCorp,” Zenaida smiled. “Get some rest. We’ll start on Monday.”
“Thanks again Zenaida. This means a lot to me, and to my father,” Mike said.
“Murph let me use this gym for years. Never hassled me about membership fees once. This place kept me sane during some dark times. You don’t need to thank me-- it’s really the least I could do,” Zenaida said.
Zenaida had found an office space in the very same building Hunter worked in, only three floors up from where she had first made her fortune. It was a large space, 1,500 square feet of empty space. The previous tenant had left most of the infrastructure intact but removed all the furniture. So far, Zenaida had only bought a conference table and several rolling chairs. She also grabbed a large television, several Macbooks, and an LED wall clock that displayed several different timezones.
When Monday morning arrived, Zenaida strolled into the new office and cut across the empty space towards the conference table where her team was already assembled. Everybody greeted her with excited smiles as she took her place at the head of the table.
