by Bryan Fields
I sat back. She was right, and she knew it. I took a calming breath and said, “This is the part where I find out what your terms are. But first, I have to ask—what’s the salary range for a house assassin, and how does one get a job like that?”
“A doctorate from Harvard law is a good foundation. However, I don’t often get my hands dirty anymore. My employer prefers to do her own wetwork when it’s needed. I don’t know about salary, but I’m quite comfortable.” Geneva set another folder on the table. “You will find our terms quite generous. Thirty million to yourself, twenty million to fund the project I mentioned. You will be able to hire from a pool of available and interested Llewellyn employees, allowing you to clear the deadwood out of your staff.”
“You have some delightful bait,” I said. “What’s the hook?”
“Llewellyn will not fund or support development of Living Land, and Llewellyn personnel will not work on it. Any additional development would have to be funded and staffed out of your pocket, preferably at a separate site.”
That was not what I’d expected. I got up and paced the office half a dozen times. Geneva said nothing. It wasn’t that I objected to the idea; in fact, it had a measure of appeal. Still…I sat back down and asked, “What project do you want me to work on?”
Geneva grimaced. “I’m not allowed to get into the details unless you sign around a dozen proprietary information forms. I can tell you it’s a resource management game on a scale never before attempted by the entertainment industry. I have no other information to impart, so I believe my business here is finished.” She stood up, leaving the paperwork on the table.
I said, “I’ll look it over, but I have to say I’m not convinced. I did a lot of research on Llewellyn Industries after speaking with Josephine. The organization has an almost cult-like reputation. A family-only city called Gilead outside Vancouver, mandatory homeschool education, and seeming lifetime employment for family members. A private medical facility just for family members. A code of silence that would do organized crime proud. I’m sorry, but it all seems a little too Jonestown for my taste.”
Geneva gave me a genuine smile. “Do you want to know why we chose you for this offer?”
“Yes.”
“Because you will be able to handle the truth. That truth is nothing illegal, improper, unethical, or repugnant to the morals of an average person, but revealing it to the public would endanger the family. The company’s assessment concluded you would be able to keep that secret even if you decline this offer. In short, Josephine believes she can trust you.” She picked up her bags and added, “You have time to make your decision. I urge you to consider the offer. Josephine will be available to answer any other questions you might have.”
“I’ll consider it.” I walked her back to the lobby and returned her Glock. A black Escalade limousine with the Llewellyn Industries logo was waiting for her at the curb. I watched her drive off and went back to my office.
Chapter Two
Family Planning
I didn’t even get back to my office before the next calamity whacked me on the head and dragged me into a dark alley.
Syndee—yes, her parents named her that—our system admin, caught up with me and said, “No one can access the development environment. Someone changed the password on the admin account, deleted all the back doors, and locked out all the other accounts, including mine. It had to be someone in the information security group. Nobody else would have that level of permissions.”
I rubbed my eyes. “Someone owes me a head. Let’s go see what we can do.”
Not much, as it turned out. I could restart the system, but would still need the new password to log on. Since we couldn’t get in, Syndee and I worked on figuring out who was responsible. I planned to use the imperative form to get the password, followed by some recreational waterboarding.
Twenty minutes later, one of the contractors on our desktop team knocked on the door. When Syndee answered, he said, “I can get you in, but I want immunity from reprisal. In writing.”
I said, “Fix this and you have a job, unless we find out you’re the one who caused it in the first place. What’s your plan?”
“Reset the local admin account password. Once you’re in, you can find out who stayed active after everyone got booted.”
I looked at Syndee and asked, “Do you know how to do that?”
“I know how it’s done, but I don’t have the tools to do it.” I must have grimaced or something; she rolled her eyes and said, “Damn it, David, I’m a sysadmin, not a hacker.”
“We need a hacker, then.” I nodded to the contractor. “You’re on. What’s your name?”
“Most people call me Oaken. Can I get that immunity note?” He didn’t look shifty, but I got a definite feeling that he was hiding something.
I pulled out a business card, wrote “Oaken has immunity from reprisal for the next fifteen minutes,” signed and dated it. I showed it to Syndee and said, “You’re a witness to all this. Feel free to testify against me if I renege.” I handed Oaken the card.
He tucked it away and took a CD out of his tool kit. He rebooted the system from it, entered a few commands, and said, “There you go. Reboot and use ‘password’, no spaces, all lower case.” He popped the CD out and stepped back to make room for Syndee. She restarted the server and logged on without issue. A few minutes later, she looked up and said, “Larry Hooper was the only user to stay logged in this whole time, and he’s set as a domain administrator.”
“Document what you find and we’ll deal with him once the paperwork is done.” I turned to Oaken and met his eyes. “Tell me the truth. Is this a scam intended to hurt myself, this company, or anyone we’re associated with?”
“I was going to steal and sell your models, but I like working here too much. I like the money and the people I work with. I don’t want to lose either.” His eyes widened and he took a step back. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“You said it because I asked you for the truth,” I said. “Is Oaken your real name?” Given his reason for coming to work here, the odds of him having given us his real name seemed a bit remote.
“No.” He grimaced and toed the floor. “I don’t like my given name. My folks are…kind of random. They picked ‘Sherwood Birch’ by pulling a name out of a hat during a convention after-party. I think they were tripping on acid at the time. I went with ‘Oaken’ after the Sherwood Oak in Nottingham Forest.”
“No problem. Fill out a new application and put down name and nickname. Welcome aboard.”
Syndee locked the server and stood up. “I have an open spot on my team. I’ll get the onboarding started.” She led Oaken out of the server room and off to her office. I went to have a talk with Larry Hooper.
He provided the password just as I expected, and I unlocked the security team. While they were sorting things out, I asked Larry what he’d been thinking.
He scowled at me. “My work is critical to the success of this project, and having it delayed to accommodate code that’s of no consequence is not acceptable. I have repeatedly asked you to give me dedicated use of the environment from noon to five. I got tired of waiting. Now, thanks to you, I have to start this run from the beginning. Are you happy now?”
“Getting there.” I met his eyes, and poured all the rage and frustration I’d been suppressing into powering up the imperative form. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to see him beaten, broken, humiliated, ready to die of self-loathing, and I had the power to do it.
Yes, but you won’t be you anymore if you do it.
“Larry, I want you to write out a confession and an explanation of how you did this. After you turn that in to me, start documenting the status of everything you’re working on and what remains to be done with it. When you’re finished, turn in your notice. If I have any more instructions, you’ll obey them as well.”
Larry nodded several times. “I will.” He pulled up a new email and started typing his confession.
/> I left him to it and went back to my office. The first thing I saw when I logged in was a reminder I had a meeting scheduled with Nadia Llewellyn.
Llewellyn? What the…?
It was my own fault. I had been so busy staying on top of everything, I’d never noticed her last name. I switched to the personnel database and pulled up her record. Born in Vancouver. Dual Canadian and American citizenship. Masters in programming from UC Santa Barbara. Interned for three years with Llewellyn Industries doing application development. Letter of recommendation from Josephine Llewellyn, CEO, Llewellyn Industries. Previous residence Gilead, BC. Emergency contacts were Aerin and Angus Cullan, Santa Barbara, California. Mother and stepfather.
Damn it. She would have been a great replacement for Pete.
I closed the file. She hadn’t tried to hide who she was, which made no sense if she was here as an industrial spy. Nadia did good work, and I needed her. I got up and looked out the window.
Find their weakness and exploit it.
The Llewellyns knew more about me than I did about them. Nadia could help clear some of the fog of war off our playing area. I might even be able to get her to give me an insider’s perspective on this whole affair. Friends close, enemies closer and all that. Besides, she would be a great replacement for Pete. If she was an example of the kind of workers the Llewellyn family produced, I’d need every one I could lay hands on.
A few minutes later, I waved Nadia in and closed the door behind her. Once again, my side table hosted our meeting.
Nadia got straight to business. “I was a little surprised to see Geneva in the lobby. Did Auntie Josephine make you an offer you can’t refuse?”
I nodded. “Pretty much. How do you know Ms. Rolling Thunder?”
“She’s my mother’s bodyguard, personal attorney, and life manager. Mother…has some memory issues. Traumatic brain injury resulting from a gunshot wound to the head during a bar fight. Geneva helps keep her life in order. Whatever Geneva came to talk to you about, it’s important enough for Mother to do without her assistance for a whole day. My aunt Josephine is one of the few people Mother would do that for.”
I let that digest for a while before asking, “Do you have any idea what Geneva might have meant by saying her employer did her own wetwork?”
She didn’t flinch. “It means my mother has a…respectable body count. Not as high as her husband Angus has, but he was in the military. If it helps any, the people in my mother’s ledger were far from innocent. Most were armed when they died. And that’s all I’m comfortable saying on this topic.”
I looked out the window, remembering the sight of my arrow punching through Vikan’s head, and the scream of a man I’d just thrown off a half-mile-high cliff. I remembered the feel of my sword, slicing through bone and flesh on its way into another man’s heart. The weight of the steering wheel in my hand as I yanked it over, rolling my Cherokee in order to kill Randall. The satisfaction—the glee—I’d felt watching Thain’s undead minions rip him to shreds and devour him.
Database administrators aren’t supposed to rack up a body count, but there it was. I never enjoyed killing—well, except for Thain—but I didn’t feel guilty anymore about having to do it. I could even describe the people I’d killed the same way: armed, and far from innocent.
I looked up and said, “My hands aren’t clean either. I can’t judge your mother’s actions. I wouldn’t want someone judging me based on the fact that I chose kill instead of be killed.” For a moment I wondered what the hell her mother did for a living. Something told me she wasn’t a soccer mom. I changed the subject. “So, what’s the plan you wanted to discuss?”
She grimaced. “It might be moot. I didn’t know Geneva was coming. Did Auntie Josephine threaten you with an embargo?”
“Would it have involved her asking me who runs Bartertown?” I smirked and shook my head at her glare. “That specific word has never come up, but Geneva did say no Llewellyn personnel would be allowed to work on Living Land if I accept this offer. Is that what you mean?”
Nadia shook her head. “No, but we still need to work fast. I want to get one group of Llewellyn employees to work on optimizing the art assets, and a second to take on the code. I think we can reach a basic level of playability in six weeks and a functional demo in ten.”
“Six weeks?” I stared at her. “I’d love to believe those numbers, but even with proper assets, we’re a long way from a playable demo.” I shook my head. “Right now we’d be hard-pressed to come up with an animated demo film.”
“No. We need a game.” She started to say something, but pulled it back. Straightening her shoulders, she said, “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”
I put on my best mock-English accent. “Always.”
“No offense, but you can’t even keep Mitch in line. Josephine is going to grind you to dust.”
I shook my head. “There’s an issue with Mitch. It’s…”
“Complicated?” Nadia shook her head. “No, it isn’t. He’s destroying the company and he needs to be cut loose.”
“He has a contract,” I said. “I’m embarrassed to say it, but I extended his contract before I knew how outrageous his demands were. I thought I was smart enough not to need a lawyer. Unless I can fire him for cause, his exit clause will bankrupt the company.”
“You need a better lawyer. Hoping he just screws up isn’t much of a plan.”
I smiled through the irritation. “How would Josephine handle our buddy Mitch?”
Walls went up behind Nadia’s eyes. “She…would convince him to take a buyout offer.”
“Just like that?” I shook my head. “I had no idea she could be so persuasive. You’re not leaving a step out, are you? Maybe something involving a horse head on his pillow?”
“She’d never do that. Too much forensic evidence.” She tried to laugh the idea off, but the attempt fell flat. She took a deep breath, exhaling through pursed lips. “Sorry, bad joke. What I’m trying say is that Josephine wouldn’t stop until she got rid of him. If she had to, she’d close the company rather than allow someone like Mitch to have power over her.”
“That is one option I’ve considered. To get back on track, do you have any advice on what to do with Josephine?” I smiled and hoped Nadia would go along with the change in subject. Rose had already threatened to pull Mitch apart and eat him rather than pay out his contract. It was a tempting thought, but I have this pesky commitment to the triumph of intellect and romance to live up to.
A flash of relief flitted across Nadia’s face. “Accept the offer, but make getting Living Land to release a non-negotiable demand. Work with her on how and when, but stick to that demand. You have to play hardball with Auntie Josephine. She will trample all over you if she thinks you’re weak—and that isn’t a metaphor. She will physically invade your space and try to intimidate you if she can. I’ve seen her knock people down and walk right over them.”
“Blessed Mother…No offense, but she sounds like a nut job.”
Nadia nodded. “I know, but she isn’t. She is sane and rational. You can negotiate with her. Whatever Geneva offered you, it’s just an opening bid, and Auntie opens low.”
Fifty million dollars is LOW? “I’ll give it some thought. I’d better have a specific list of demands and some fallback items.” I hesitated before asking my next question, but the chance to get some additional information was too tempting. “Do you know anything about some kind of world-changing resource management game Llewellyn Industries might be working on?”
“A game?” Her brow furrowed as she shook her head. “LI doesn’t do games. Too many intangible variables. They stick to applications with specific purposes and clear, defined parameters. There’s only one project that…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes went wide. She stood up and walked to the windows on the west side of the office, holding one hand up to her mouth.
Without turning around, she said, “There is one project that might fit that description. I’ve he
ard a few things about it, but it’s pretty much a classified, off-the-books type item. The only thing I can tell you I know about it is that the company has been working on it since before I was born.” She turned around and added, “I can’t imagine the family letting it go after all the work invested in it.”
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “So why would they offer it to me?” I gave her a condensed version of Geneva’s offer, though I was vague on the details of the fusion battery.
When I finished, Nadia nodded and said, “Well, at least she wasn’t talking about hitting you with an embargo. That single-project focus is how the company works. One project per team, everyone working with absolute focus. It makes things easier to control.”
“People as well, I suppose.”
“Of course.”
“Yeah. More than just a little bit Jonestown.” I gave her an apologetic smile and added, “No offense intended.”
“We get that a lot. Gilead isn’t your average town.” She laughed. “Most people see the twenty-foot electrified razor wire fence around the property line and assume we’re in there sacrificing cats and having orgies while waiting for the Venusian mothership to arrive. Just a bunch of crap. I mean, for one thing, killing a cat is tantamount to a felony murder charge.”
I leaned forward. “Why is that?”
“It’s a custom the founders brought from the old country and wrote into the town charter. No orgies, either. At least not public ones. What Gilead does have is happily married families enjoying their privacy and raising children. There are a few stores and a diner in the middle of town, and a company-owned shopping center with a supermarket ten miles away next to the highway. There’s a fleet of electric buses that drive people back and forth to the plant in Vancouver, a private airstrip, a town marshal, and a volunteer fire department. All manner of threatening. I know.”
