The Hawaii Job: (A Case Lee Novel Book 5)

by Vince Milam

  “We’re talking a helluva lot of data points.”

  “Which they accumulate! 24-7. And the client—I’ll get into those in a minute—can begin crafting perspectives through the alteration of online search results, video and website recommendations, what books to read, the whole shebang. They engage your friends and acquaintances, without them even being aware of it, to help steer each other. And manage a population’s perspective accordingly!”

  This red-flagged as too dystopian. Too far-fetched. I had a hard time wrapping my head around it and focused on furious note scribbling. Old school, on paper.

  “What if you don’t want your perspective managed?” I asked.

  “You don’t know it’s happening. And if you do figure how to sidestep it, refuse altering your worldview, Alaton delivers a list of ne’er-do-wells to the client. Individuals who require addressing. Individuals who don’t have their minds right, dude.”

  He went on to describe other offerings. A green package. Alaton would monitor how many miles each person in a country or region drives, what they drive, and their gas mileage. How much electricity individuals consume, how much natural gas at home, how much water. There was something called a wellness package. Medical records tied to what you purchased and ate, how much you exercised, how much you drank, how often you had sex and brushed your teeth. The packages went on and on. And each package, every one, had associated Alaton-developed actions available. Travel restrictions, tax penalties, automatic bank withdrawals. Interventions from friends. Or interventions from the authorities, a knock on the door. Stuff beyond the pale, frightening, sterile, cold. People, whole populations, as cattle.

  “Oh, and you’ll like this one. The insight package. Alaton captures live video, right now, of every unsuspecting fool who has a laptop or cell phone. With artificial intelligence accepting the hundreds of millions of feeds and ‘viewing’ the video. Looking for whatever the client, the nation-state, wants identified. How about that crap?”

  I removed the phone from my ear and confirmed the small piece of electrician’s tape across the camera lens. I became filled with great relief at my mobile boat life and cash-on-the-barrelhead transactions. Man, this was science fiction stuff, scary as hell. And I had enough information on Alaton’s business model.

  “Clients?”

  “Their anchor client, the Chinese. Like I said, contracted for the whole enchilada. And the US is a client. Individual departments, so far. The usual suspects—NSA, FBI. The CIA, it’s safe to assume, piggybacks on the NSA. But not just the usual suspects, dude. No way. The Department of Health and Human Services has dipped their toe in the Alaton pool. So have the Departments of Education and Defense.”

  The pen scratched rapid notes; pages flipped as they filled.

  “Others?”

  “It’s a long list. Each engaged to varying degrees with Alaton. Canada, Argentina, Saudi Arabia. Qatar, Bahrain, Iran. Great Britain, Germany, France, Russia. Japan and Singapore. Indonesia and India. Spain and Holland. Malaysia. It looks like that’s about it.”

  “That’s one helluva clientele.”

  “That’s one hell of a start, dude. Alaton will expand their services in each of those and acquire new countries as well. A solid growth pattern. And we have to get off this call.”

  He hung up. A lot of that going on—Krupp out of anger, Hoolie driven by paranoia. Well, maybe not paranoia as much as realization. Our conversation shook me as well. Hoolie presented a picture of Big Brother realized. And running the show, a lunatic MOTU. With me perched high on his shit list. On the flip side, I now owned excellent intel for my client. The report would have challenges—craft a deliverable, a legit profile, without hyperbole. Not easy. Krupp had plans as part of the ruling elite. A global elite. A Zeus on high who directed us underlings scurrying about below his feet. I’d keep to the facts, describe Alaton’s offerings, and provide a client list. The sit-down with Joanna might caulk a few holes and seams in the presentation. Provide more personal insights. Then I’d create a professional report and deliver. I continued working a draft of the report before the meeting with Joanna Krupp and Jess, feeling more confident with this job’s outcome.

  I slid open the room’s wide glass door and stood on the small balcony as the sea breeze blew the light curtains inward. Azure blue mixed with offshore whitecaps across the expanse of ocean. I’d done alright: utilized special skills, gathered rock-solid information, garnered a few insights. And I’d learned from Jess Rossi. I could don the moron hat at times, but I had enough sense to realize she was a pro at this domestic sleuthing stuff. Maybe she and I could get together alone tomorrow. Things were looking up. Yeah, Krupp was pissed. And he’d pissed me off. But I couldn’t see how his bent-out-of-shape efforts would manifest as any form of immediate danger.

  The MSS eyeballs on my activities were disconcerting, but I’d waltzed through shadowland enough to understand it. I wouldn’t expend too many calories playing three-dimensional chess. The Chinese protected their investment. Fine and understood and outside my immediate concern of Case Lee Inc. presenting Global Resolutions a solid report. The weird consideration of Alaton as the requesting client for Global Resolutions—as both Jules and Jess had intimated—hung as a discordant note. My report would validate Krupp’s assertion I’d broken into his data center. So be it. I’d return to the Ace of Spades and tool south along the Ditch, under anyone’s radar. And if Krupp came after me, he’d run into a full-rev chain saw. There was a weird solace in that. If he threatened my family, he was a dead man. There was no solace in that, just cold-blooded fact.

  Chapter 10

  A guardhouse stood at the entrance of Joanna Krupp’s small, exclusive neighborhood. The guard made a confirmation call to Joanna, and the gate swung open. Each house was tucked away behind tropical vegetation, hidden. Her address on a low designer pillar accompanied a discreet driveway entrance weaving through thick green.

  The single-level house stood understated among a Japanese-garden landscape. Jess met me at the opening. “Door” wasn’t the correct designation. Two massive sliding glass doors, both pulled wide, opened onto a large sitting area. The opposite wall across the great room displayed the same style openings. The effect created an open-air living space.

  “Nice digs,” I said and strolled in.

  She wore shorts, a loose shirt, and sandals, her hair pulled back in a short ponytail. She looked better than fine.

  “It requires perfect weather to pull this off. When the breeze blows through here, it’s amazing.” She gave a head signal to follow her. “How’s your day job working out?”

  “Interesting. What about bugs flying or crawling through here?”

  She laughed. “A segue from investigative work to insects in one fell swoop.” She halted and smiled and locked eyes. “Mental multitasking, I suppose. Joanna is out back. And bugs aren’t an issue. If it helps, I don’t get it either, but there you are.”

  “How’ve you been?”

  “Since last night? Herding lawyers and thinking a bit about you.” She turned away, halted, and said, “Maybe more than a bit.”

  I followed her lead through the other wide glass opening and onto a shaded walkway. It led toward a large covered sitting area with a full open-air kitchen and bar. The surrounding landscape provided complete privacy. Farther past the covered area, basalt rocks marked a cliff’s edge as the ocean’s swell rumbled below. Offshore, a sailboat cut along the coast.

  Joanna Krupp stood to greet me. Without argument attractive, she wore jeans, a polo shirt, and a sincere smile. We shook.

  “My apologies, Mr. Lee, for the rigmarole you went through to meet with me. I will place the burden of such inconvenience on my dearest friend and confidante.”

  “I’d suggest he’s addressed more challenging endeavors,” Jess said, headed toward the full bar. “I don’t believe he was overly burdened.”

  “I wasn’t,” I said, smiling. The atmosphere was relaxed, filled with good humor, and devoid of awkwa
rdness. “And thanks for seeing me, Joanna. I get the caution. Understandable.”

  Joanna offered one of the comfortable cushioned wicker chairs strewn about, and we sat. A bird squawked overhead, the Pacific rolled against the basalt cliff, and exotic landscape plants waved with the warm breeze.

  “I’m assembling a new recipe,” Jess said. She inspected bottles and shuffled supplies behind the bar. “It has a coconut base with mint and ground macadamia nuts. And more than a shot or three of lovely rum. Are you a willing guinea pig, Case?”

  “I am, if you both join me.”

  “Oh, we’ll join you alright. Joanna and I have held off until now. Out of politeness or guilt or a sincere effort at cutting back on the booze.”

  “Jess represents my rock through this whole ordeal,” Joanna said with a wry grin. “Repayment, it would seem, requires only lodging and a stocked bar.”

  Jess assembled ingredients in a blender. Joanna leaned back with a pleasant expression. Slight puffiness under her eyes and accompanying worry lines indicated recent stress. Whatever she’d gone through, she exuded class and hospitality. I took an instant liking.

  “I understand you and Jess attended college together.”

  “Go Blue Devils,” she said without much enthusiasm.

  “And the two of you took separate career paths.”

  “We did. I was fortunate enough to land a job at a Raleigh research center. I met Elliot at one of their conferences, which were and still are, I suppose, considered a big deal.”

  “While Jess headed for Charlotte to be a cop.”

  Jess paused her drink ministrations. “Far be it for me to suggest how best to approach your job. But Joanna opened the door for reflective questions. You seem to have shot off and referenced me.”

  She hit the blender button, and we sat silent as it ground the concoction.

  “You may have noticed Jess’s assumptions about your personal or professional development,” Joanna said when the blender stopped. “Do not feel alone.”

  We both laughed. Joanna exhibited a cool Carolina gentility that overlay her statements. It was lovely. Jess, on the other hand, delivered with tempered straightforwardness, and with a great sense of humor.

  “Good to know,” I said. “Although I’m sure I own more than a few wrinkles that could use a bit of ironing.”

  True enough. And a conversational gambit taking the focus off Jess. As instructed.

  “Our friend Case departs the realm of double-oh-seven and attempts a move into my world,” Jess said, pouring the icy drinks. “Now, shall we address the large question? Do we require little umbrellas? Yes. Yes, we do. And straws.” A bar drawer slid open, and she rummaged around.

  “Jess touched on your background,” Joanna said. “It sounded fascinating. And here you are, contracted to investigate Alaton and, by extension, Elliot. Well, I’m afraid there is little I can tell you about the former. As for the latter, tales might be told.”

  “Tales are good. But I’d appreciate anything you can tell me about Alaton.”

  “I’m afraid he buried it. Buried below layers of lawyers and corporate law, both domestic and foreign. Elliot would tell me as much. It was all hidden from me, making it a win for him.” She raised a hand and gave a desultory rodeo queen wave. “Yeah, Elliot. He enjoys flaunting his victories. And at a certain point, I didn’t care.”

  “I take it he spends most of his time dealing with Alaton.”

  “Yes. When he’s not engaged with social activities.”

  “Engaged with activities of the young women variety,” Jess said as she approached with the drinks arrayed along a small tray.

  “Jessica, please,” Joanna said with mild admonishment.

  Drinks, with umbrellas and straws, were distributed. Jess plopped down across from me. The breeze blew hair across Joanna’s face, and she tucked it behind an ear.

  “Let’s not pretend it’s a state secret,” Jess said. “And you may consider committing to discussing the ugliness. Even with the hordes of attorneys working on the settlement, you may have to testify in court. I want you firing with both barrels. Okay?” Jess pulled on the straw and continued. “Oh, oh, oh. I may have found a new favorite drink.” She addressed me. “Elliot Krupp is a POS. Joanna knows it, whispers it, but still carries the North Carolina ‘ladies don’t talk about such things’ badge.” She turned toward Joanna. “Gentility isn’t a good thing in a knife fight, dearest friend. And you are in a knife fight.”

  Uncomfortable turf, at least for me. I had no desire to plumb the depths of their relationship. None. I knew Elliot was an asshole. From all signs, Joanna was sweet and solid. I’d never know the good, bad, and ugly perspective from both sides and didn’t need to. As Bo often stated, it rolls and it tumbles. Life.

  “I may agree with you on this drink, Jess. Mighty fine,” I said. The mint mingled with the coconut, the fine ground macadamia nuts as soft overlay.

  Joanna fished a pack of smokes from the small backpack purse alongside her chair.

  “Share one with me?” she asked Jess.

  “She started smoking again after fifteen years,” Jess said. “Due to stress. So we share. It lowers the guilt factor.”

  “I can’t take you anywhere,” Joanna said and smiled at her best friend. “Such brutal speech patterns. It’s hurtful.”

  “You’ll get over it when we finish with Elliot. All those dollars are a potent healing ointment.”

  Joanna shook her head and lit the smoke, took a puff, and held it vertically as she passed it to Jess.

  “As my alter ego boards the enemy ship, knife between teeth, I am compelled to address the money with you, Case,” Joanna said. “So as not to leave the impression this is all about finances, you should know I give most of my money away. We had no children, and at heart I’m still a simple person.”

  Jess held the smoke in its vertical position, letting it burn. She took a long draw of the drink and added, “Well deserved kudos for you, roomie. You do that part right. Here.”

  Without taking a drag, she handed the smoke back.

  “I second the kudos. Good for you.”

  Joanna took a long sip, a drag, exhaled, and said, “Oh, I enjoy my creature comforts. This is hardly a hovel I live in. And I have my eye on a modest abode in Carmel. Are you hungry, Case?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m not,” Jess said. “We’ve had so much island food, and I’m not complaining, but how about something simple. Pizza?”

  “Now, pizza sounds marvelous.” Joanna tapped the ashes off her smoke, took a drag, and returned it to Jess. “Although you will insist on pineapple. It may require checking you into a clinic to stop the addiction.” She looked toward me. “What would you like on your pizza? Be honest unless it involves pineapple, in which case please lie.”

  “I’m not a pineapple on pizza guy.” Said with a smile and appreciation for normal folks holding a normal conversation.

  “Of course you’re not,” Joanna said. “A civil individual. So we will order several pizzas and encourage Jess to eat some distance from us.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “It sounds like you two lack adventure,” Jess said. “I’ll order something mundane for you meek souls. I’m hoping they crank it up a notch here in Hawaii and add mango with the pineapple.”

  “While Jess ruins her digestive tract, let’s return to the money aspect. It’s important for me not to appear as a gold digger.”

  “Well, the deal is,” I said, “there’s no need to get into the money. And I wouldn’t worry about other people’s perceptions.”

  “But I do worry. Now, as for charities and the foundation I established… Established with no encouragement or even real agreement from Elliot I might add.” She took another sip and wafted her cigarette hand. “There. I slipped into sordid details of our marriage. I blame my companion.”

  “A blame well placed,” Jess said. “You should get comfortable becoming mad. Get feisty, Joanna.”
/>   “We do have a guest, Jess.”

  “That guy?” Jess pointed my way. “He couldn’t care less. He’s an industrial spy. A business PI. Working for a group of gnomes as far as I can tell.” She looked toward me. “Right?”

  The gnomes of Zurich. She had a point.

  “Something like that.”

  “Without tooting my own horn,” Joanna continued, “I am not one for evening gown and tux soirées. The foundation delivers financial assistance on the ground. We ensure it goes straight to those in need. And with minimal administrative overhead.”

  “Direct impact,” I said. “Good for you.”

  I meant it. If you’re being charitable, for heaven’s sake have it go straight to those in need. Bypass those duded-up galas, if possible—although they could be potent fundraising events. Joanna didn’t require fundraising.

  “Shall we team up on this discussion?” Jess asked me.

  “Team up?”

  “What have you learned about Alaton or Elliot?”

  “Well.”

  “Well, to put it less than mildly, you haven’t learned jack.”

  “Jessica! It’s not appropriate to admonish our guest.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “She’s right. Most of my work has been in different environments. But I’m willing to learn.”

  Joanna shook her head and took another puff. Jess smiled large and said, “What an excellent attitude. You’re a man who ratchets down his ego. It’s a lovely attribute. It makes you even more appealing. Don’t you think, Joanna?”

  “You appear as a very nice person, Case. And one who has withstood the Jess Rossi onslaught.”

  I blushed. Couldn’t help it. These two ladies, each in their own way, were formidable. And Jess had a point. A great point. I hadn’t learned squat about Alaton or Elliot since Hoolie called. Maybe it was the Krupp’s divorce proceedings or maybe the clear stress Joanna was under that was causing me to tiptoe.