The StarSight Project

by S. P. Perone

  “If you will both excuse me,” Carothers continued, “I’ll need to make a couple of calls on the scrambler phone right now to make arrangements for the enhanced security. It’ll probably go into effect no sooner than Monday.”

  Abruptly, the meeting was ended. Shane and the Senator both left the office. There was just enough time to round up the rest of the team and head out for dinner. Shane’s earlier anticipation of the dining event had been dampened considerably…but he was determined not to show anything to the rest. At least they could enjoy the evening, before Carothers laid the news on them later.

  Chapter 13

  Interviews and Inquiries

  Fortunately, it was still early morning, and the air high above Albuquerque had not yet begun to develop the treacherous thermal chaos that routinely rattled the teeth of passengers strapped to the seats of approaching aircraft. Shane had left Oakland airport on the earliest Southwest flight this morning, and now, at barely nine o’clock Mountain Time, he was only five minutes away from touching down. He had squeezed the stop in Albuquerque into only a few hours, planning to depart on the 2:40 United flight for Chicago’s O’Hare this afternoon. If there were no delays, he would arrive at Daniels well in time for the eight o’clock lecture he had scheduled for his Information Theory class, and meet briefly with some of his research students.

  Shane had had little time to prepare for the interview at CryptaGen Corp. today…and he found himself uncaring. Had it not been for his friendship with Larry Markson, the C.E.O…and Sandy’s skill at scheduling flights…Shane would have cancelled the interview. He reflected on how full was his plate: the crucial effort on the StarSight project; the upcoming “inquisition” awaiting him at Daniels; the many normal duties related to his teaching and research activities; and, now, the vague but frightening threat to the safety of the whole StarSight team that had been so brutally exposed by Carothers last night.

  Shane had lingered in Sarah’s room at the Residence Inn well past midnight, before retiring reluctantly to his own room. The somber mood generated by Carothers’ brief but blunt statement to the group after dinner had severely tested the agreement they had made, before leaving Illinois, to occupy their separate rooms each night while in California. Very concerned for Sarah’s well-being…and for all of the team back in Livermore…Shane vowed that he would find a way to make this his last trip away from the project until it was completed…or until there was some action taken by the terrorist group. He prayed to God that it wasn’t the second alternative.

  Riding next to Markson in his black Lincoln Town Car, Shane was happy the CryptaGen C.E.O. had decided to meet him in person at the airport. Shane felt guilty about insisting on a brief visit; he knew that the technical staff at CryptaGen wanted to hear him give a talk on his research, and that several of them would have liked to spend some time with him one-on-one. And, of course, they would all miss out on a pleasant dinner at one of Albuquerque’s fine New Mexican restaurants. In fact, they might have driven up to Santa Fe for dinner at one of the many fine, small, atmospheric café’s in that charming old city.

  Instead, Shane and Markson were engaged in a productive dialogue as they made their way from the southerly airport location to the distant northwest location of CryptaGen. After an exchange of greetings and a few minutes of catching up on recent events…where neither was completely truthful…Markson got down to business.

  “So, Tony, do we have reason to be optimistic that you might consider leaving Daniels and joining CryptaGen?”

  “To be honest, Larry, a week ago my answer would have been ‘no’. But, today…I don’t know.”

  “What’s the problem?” Markson asked, glancing briefly at Shane before returning his eyes to the freeway.

  “It’s not anything I can talk about, Larry…Sorry…But, let’s just say I’m a little disillusioned with the nature of university politics.”

  Chuckling at Shane’s comment, Markson said, “What makes you think politics gets any less nasty in industry, Tony?”

  “I know there’s politics in every organization. But, maybe I’m an old-time idealist…because I always thought academics would either be above it all…or be too clueless to pursue it. And, I’m very disappointed to discover that neither of those is true.”

  Briefly glancing sideways at Shane again, with a concerned frown creasing his forehead, Markson said, “You sound serious, Tony…Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Oh, God…I’m sorry, Larry…I must sound like a ‘whiner’ right now. Please…forgive me. I’m really OK. Let’s just say I’m interested in exploring other options…and there really is a chance I could leave Daniels.”

  “So,” Shane continued, “why don’t you tell me why you’re interested inme . What do you think I can do for CryptaGen?”

  “Well, Tony, I can’t give you everything right now…because we need to get you to sign a non-disclosure agreement, first, when we get to CryptaGen…but I can tell you a little on the way.”

  Markson proceeded to go down the list of new products that CryptaGen had on the drawing board, most of which were related to encryption or de-encryption of digital information packets. CryptaGen saw a huge market for tools which individual users of the Internet or cell phones could implement to protect their privacy. Because of Shane’s expertise in Information Theory, Markson believed he would be an excellent choice to assume the role of Director of Research & Development. His name was widely recognized because of his research productivity…and that would only enhance CryptaGen’s stature.

  Pulling into the CryptaGen parking lot just as he finished a broad description of how he thought Shane would fit into their organization, Markson headed directly for his reserved space next to the main entrance to the building. “Let’s go to my office; get the non-disclosure agreement signed; and then we can talk a little more in detail about what we’re doing, and where our market is.”

  Seated comfortably in a soft leather easy chair in Markson’s expansive office on the second floor, with all the legal documents signed, Shane sipped gingerly on a scalding hot cup of coffee, gazing out at the Sandia mountain range in the distance. He was feeling more relaxed than he had since transporting the StarSight project to Livermore. Leaning back in his high-backed leather desk chair, Markson was sipping on a can of Diet Pepsi. With his sparse light brown and gray hair combed straight back, Markson looked older than his 48 years. Tall and lean, with gray stubble covering his face, his western attire contrasted sharply with the New Jersey accent that was still detectable after nearly a quarter century of separation. Shane had been relieved to see Markson arrive at the airport dressed in his cowboy boots, jeans, western shirt and bolo tie. Casually attired, himself, in a faded pair of classic Levi’s, burgundy loafers, white shirt, and navy blazer, Shane had been concerned with his appearance. His last job interview had been at Daniels over ten years ago. Then, he had worn a black suit.

  “Have you heard about our SpyraNet product, Tony?” Markson began.

  “Yeah. I read something about it in the Business section of USA Today a couple weeks ago. They said it was a product for employers who wanted to monitor employees’ non-business Internet activities at work. It’s supposed to be available by the first of the year…is that right?”

  “The release date is January 2. That’s right,” Markson replied. “But the press release we gave out doesn’t begin to reveal the market for this product.”

  “We have a product, Tony, that can monitor what someone is doing at any workstation on the net. It can intercept e-mails outgoing or incoming without disruption. It can extract data files or programs. And, one of our scientists, Max Winter, has demonstrated its ability to take over a workstation and surreptitiously initiate operations. And…all of these things can be donewith absolutely no chance of detection !”

  With a low whistle, Shane acknowledged his regard for what Markson had just described. “This SpyraNet package sounds like the Carnivore system the FBI really wanted to put in place. So
…don’t tell me that’s the market you’re looking at?”

  “You got it, Tony,” Markson replied, beaming. “We’ve got the FBI, CIA, NSA, DEA…you name the fed agency…and they’ve been comin-a-callin. They’re chomping at the bit…can’t wait for us to get a working system in their hands…And, we can just about name our price.”

  “Sounds like a real winner, Larry,” Shane remarked. “But, what does it have to do with me?”

  “Technically…not much,” Markson replied. “What I’m trying to do is to give you an idea of what our staff is capable of…and to let you know that we’re on the verge of becoming avery profitable company.”

  After pausing a few moments, Markson continued, “And…I want you to think about how much you’re gonna be worth when you accept the Director’s position…which brings with it a briefcase full of stock certificates…that will be going through the roof in a few months.”

  While Markson paused, Shane speculated on the financial implications of what he had heard. Markson hadn’t been specific…probably waiting for Shane to ask…which would give an indication that he was interested.

  Deciding not to give any sign of interest yet, Shane skirted the financial subject. “I am definitely impressed with your staff, if they’ve developed the product you’ve described. Can you give me an idea of how the system works?”

  Sensing Shane’s reluctance to bite yet on the Director’s position, Markson switched into a detailed technical discussion of how the SpyraNet software worked.

  Impressed with the way the software had been designed, especially the clever way in which the stealth properties had been accomplished, Shane next asked about the technical staff who were responsible.

  “The head of the team is Carl Endicott, an Electrical Engineer by training. He’s primarily responsible for the original concepts. But, the most talented person on his team is a guy called Max Winter. He’s the guy who’s demonstrated the stealth properties…and, I think he’s eventually going to incorporate the remote initiation of operations capability.”

  “Sounds pretty talented. What’s this guy…Max?…what’s his background? Maybe I could visit with him for a while today.”

  “Max has a Ph.D. in Computer Science from the University of Toronto. He’s only been here a little over six months, but he’s already generated one profitable product, and we see a great future for him.”

  “Unfortunately,” Markson continued, “Max isn’t here today. He’s back in California…visiting some of our Silicon Valley contacts.”

  Markson was interrupted by the persistent electronic chirping of his telephone. Knowing it could only be his secretary, he picked up the phone. “Is he herenow ?” he barked into the mouthpiece. “I thought we set that up for later this afternoon?”

  With a sigh of resignation, Markson said, “OK…tell Lieutenant Farrell that I’ll be able to see him in just a few minutes. And, Marcia, could you get hold of Carl Endicott? Ask him to come down here and pick up Tony Shane. Show him around the place…meet some of the staff…and I’ll catch up with them about eleven. Did you make reservations for us at Trombino’s?…Great…Thanks.”

  Hanging up the phone, Markson turned back to Shane. “Sorry, Tony. Got something urgent I have to take care of. But, this is a good time for you to meet some of the other people around here. I’ll meet up with you for lunch…and, I want to follow up on the R&D Director’s position. OK?”

  “Sure. That should work. Just as long as I get to the airport by about 1:45 or 2 o’clock.”

  “By the way,” Shane continued, “who’s the ‘Lieutenant’? Is this the military market you’re checking out?”

  “No,” Markson replied, his face suddenly clouding over. “I wish thiswere a marketing discussion. Actually, Lieutenant Farrell is with the Albuquerque Police. He’s here to investigate the disappearance of one of our employees…a young lady in marketing, by the name of Andie Carey.”

  “No one has seen her for about a week,” Markson continued, “and we’re all pretty concerned. She’s a single girl, thirtyish, very attractive, lives alone. No family in town. One of her girl friends…from work here…had a dinner date with her last Thursday, I believe, and she wasn’t here at work that day…and never showed up for their date. Apparently, the police were eventually contacted. They found her apartment unoccupied…and it seems she has simply disappeared.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear about this,” Shane responded. “I sure hope they find her OK. Is there any indication of foul play?”

  “Nothing. Not a clue. She’s justgone ,” Markson replied, shaking his head.

  Again Markson’s phone rang; the same persistent warble that indicated his secretary needed to talk to him. It quickly became clear that Endicott had arrived, and that Shane’s place in Markson’s office would abruptly be exchanged with Lieutenant Farrell. As Endicott entered the office, Shane rose, shook his hand, and then shook Markson’s hand as they filed out of the office. Markson welcomed Lieutenant Farrell into his office, while Shane and Endicott walked out of the ante-office door and down the hallway towards Endicott’s quarters.

  With no other opportunity arising during Shane’s brief visit, Markson took advantage of the drive to the airport to re-state his desire to bring Shane to CryptaGen as Director of R & D. Despite the present chaotic state of his life, Shane found himself intrigued by the possibility. He found the technical staff at CryptaGen…the scientists, engineers, and technicians…to be very sharp. He envisioned himself taking charge and becoming a leader of this collection of bright, energetic workers…much as he was the leader of his research group at the university. Shane could see the obvious advantages of enhanced productivity, working with the experienced, mature technical staff…compared to the maddeningly slow pace of progress with students who remained on an extended learning curve for years sometimes before becoming productive.

  Although he knew that there was no decision expected from him at this time, Shane weighed mentally the perceived career advantages and disadvantages of the CryptaGen position. On the plus side, he liked the prospect of enhanced productivity in a cutting edge technology, to which he could contribute personally both by his scientific expertise and his leadership. On the negative side, he recognized that he would have to adapt to a whole new system of goals and rewards. Rather than the traditional academic goals of research scholarship, publications, and professional recognition…the industrial position would substitute the “bottom-line” goals of new products and efficient marketplace competition. Instead of the rewards of academic freedom, tenure, and professorial status, there would be a whole different set of rewards…mostly financial and lifestyle related.

  What Shane questioned was whether he could willingly give up his passion for academic research. He couldn’t imagine a world where he would be leading a cutting-edge research & development project…and be unable to share the accomplishments with his colleagues around the world by publishing a technical paper…or by presenting a talk at a scientific meeting. But…of course…that would be impossible for him at CryptaGen. Concluding, rightly, that the corresponding loss of professional recognition would affect him greatly, Shane decided to open that issue up with Markson. After all, Markson was a fellow academic scientist…who just happened to own a multi-million dollar company.

  “Larry, how did you feel about leaving your academic position?” Shane asked. “I mean…even though you’re still on the faculty at UNM…with a Research Chair and all…you can’t possibly maintain the same high level of professional activity that you did before you started the company. Right?”

  Continuing to navigate through the surprisingly heavy freeway traffic, Markson measured his words carefully before replying. “I know where you’re coming from, Tony. I’ve been there too. And, I can tell you exactly where I am now.”

  “But, first,” Markson continued, “keep in mind that your situation…should you accept our offer…would not be the same as mine. I do still maintain an academic research program…and
I even teach a course occasionally. You wouldnot be in that position. You would be making a clean break…and that will be very tough.

  “My situation, Tony, is like this: I’ve cut back my academic research dramatically; I publish about one-tenth of what I did before; and, I rarely present a research paper. But, I’m often invited to talk about CryptaGen products…or about my experience in starting up a high-tech company. So, in that sense, I am still getting professional recognition.

  “To get to your question, though, I’ve made the trade-off between academic and industrial careers. Mytoken academic effort can no way keep up with what my colleagues are doing at other universities. And that is very frustrating.

  “On the other hand, Tony, I’ve discovered that there are forms of gratification in the industrial world that rival anything the academic world has to offer. Nothing can compare to the thrill of launching a new product. One that you’ve taken from a fuzzy idea to a neatly wrapped, mass-produced package. One that has customers throwing millions of dollars at you. The timely de-bugging of a faulty program; meeting a deadline that means beating your competitor to the marketplace; these things provide instant gratification that can’t be matched in an academic world.”

  “And, those are just the intangible rewards,” Markson added. “I don’t need to tell you that, financially, you would be far ahead of your academic situation. There’s no comparison.

  “What are you making now…less than a hundred ‘K’…maybe a little more with consulting fees?”

  Glancing sideways, and observing Shane’s silent nod, Markson continued, “Can you imagine the change in your lifestyle with a two hundred fifty ‘K’ salary…and a healthy chunk of CryptaGen stock? And that’s just for starters, Tony. You’ll be getting a percentage of every new product launched under your direction.”