by Lee Winter
“Oh, endless,” Lesser drawled.
Catherine glared at his flippancy. “This is awful. It could result in anything from sophisticated identity theft to crude blackmail. What if a person in the database took an unpopular view on politics? Could someone leak their most personal medical or physical details to the world? I also imagine that some people who had, say, Caesarian scars from secret pregnancies, or hidden deformities, or fatal allergies wouldn’t want that recorded in some database file that can be easily bought or shared.”
Lesser’s look became wry. “The truth is ninety-nine percent of the population won’t care about this, even if they knew about it. It doesn’t matter how unethical or sneaky or awful it all is.” He put mocking air quote marks around the word. “They’ll just say ‘Well, I’m not doing anything illegal so why should I care which department has my data?’”
“That’s naïve. When any government controls our private information, it controls us. The biometric and medical histories of innocent citizens are none of the FBI’s damn business. This is Big Brother stuff. It should be fought at the highest level. But instead you’re sitting here, smirking, and telling us you’ve just made it happen and you don’t even seem to care.”
“Why should I?” Lesser said.
“You don’t care you will be in there one day, too?”
“I won’t. I’m too smart for that. I can get my name out of any database.”
“What does Ansom get out of any of this?”
“It wants their chips to be everywhere. And with every security agency in the country soon to be demanding them, Ansom has a smash hit on their hands. Profits will be spectacular. I’d sure as hell be investing in Ansom shares if I were you.”
“Profit.” Catherine felt sick. “Great motive.”
“It is to your father. Lionel’s smart, though. He’s been hedging his bets. If all of this stuff sounds too unpalatable to the public, Wave’N’Go will be there. It’ll get the skittish masses used to the idea. By the time they’re all paying for their public transport or cab drivers or McDonalds with a wave of a hand, these chips will be seen as so convenient, the people will have forgotten why they even thought to object. And by then, the FBI and its alphabet soup of security friends will have what they’ve always wanted. Everyone chipped, collated, and, eventually, monitored and traceable.”
Lauren stared at him. “You really don’t care, do you?”
He shrugged. “Why would I? I have offshore retirement plans. Somewhere warm and laid-back. In the southern hemisphere, I think. Not a fan of DC’s winters. Not good for my chest.”
Catherine exhaled. “You mentioned a think tank? People who met to discuss this idea. Who was in on it?”
“The FBI director and Lionel Ayers and a few of their other security agency chiefs.”
“Hickory?” Lauren asked.
“Hell no. He’s not too bright. He’s for patsy purposes only.”
“So who was keenest on the data scooping idea?” Catherine asked.
“Lionel… Number-one ticketholder and cheerleader.”
“It’s not like him to be so bold. He rarely leads from the front.”
“Really?” Lesser’s gaze slid upwards and to the left. “‘The profit always comes first, gentlemen. I’ll supply the method for you to get every American in that database, but you have to supply the motive to make people demand it.’ Does that sound like him?”
It did. “What does he mean by motive?”
“First, the Mexicans at the border. So ICE could make a showy arrest and introduce data-chipping as a concept for security purposes. Then the FBI will announce they’ve looked at it and worked out how much data chipping people would streamline criminal investigations having illegal immigrants’ biometric data in their system. Which makes no sense, but it plays to people’s fears of the unknown. They feel safer thinking those sneaky illegals are more closely monitored.
“Down the track, some foreign-looking crisis actor will be ‘caught’ by the FBI before a nonexistent terrorist attack is committed. Most crucially, he’ll somehow be traced and arrested in the nick of time, thanks to the illegal-immigrant data chip in his hand.
“Then the good senator for Iowa is scheduled, in an impassioned speech, to declare this arrest to be proof of the success of these chips. Hickory will demand that the program gets expanded to include all criminals, miscreants, and even legal immigrants, and pretty much any other groups that get people whipped into a lather of fear. By that time, with those measures passed, half of America will be in the database.”
“How is the FBI fine with this insanity?” Catherine couldn’t believe it. All the FBI people she’d ever dealt with, such as Diane, were good-intentioned and law-abiding, and would be horrified by such a scheme. “Didn’t they object to any of this?”
“Gotta understand we’re talking about those at the very top. And they’re not just fine with it, they’re driving it. Never get in the way of a security agency chief within sight of a power grab. They’re enthusiastic as hell. Power and control? They’re hot for it.”
“If we ran this story, everyone will deny all this,” Catherine said. “It sounds utterly implausible. They’ll say you’re some conspiracy nut.”
He shrugged. “Not my problem. I’ve told the truth and it’s up to you to prove it. Now, I’ve fulfilled my end of the deal, so we’re done here. Remember, I’m the whistleblower. Make sure you say that. Oh, and try to and make me sound heroic the way you did that guy in your SmartPay story.”
Lauren peered at him. “Why?”
He smiled. “For reasons.”
“You’ll be pissing off powerful people when this story comes out,” Lauren said. “You know that, right?”
“Of course I’ll annoy some people, including powerful people who’ll threaten me with never working again or much worse. But two things—I know where the bodies are buried, and they know I’ll have insurance if they try to hurt me, so they won’t want to do much more than bluster. And I’m also uniquely skilled. So they’ll get pissed at me for a bit and come crawling back when they want their next job done. I’ve been through this many times. I’m bulletproof.”
“The dirt just slides right off you, doesn’t it?” Lauren said.
His laugh was pleased. “Always. Now, if we’re finished, I have a new app to work on. It’s just come to me. Something honoring the world’s bravest people. Our Heroic Voices? What do you think? I’ll put myself top of the list, of course, as the whistleblower who saved the US from sweeping privacy violations. Oh, and I’ll leave any colored folk out of it. That wouldn’t fit the special narrative I have in mind.” He laughed and stabbed a button with a flourish. He waved.
The Skype call ended.
“What a thoroughly noxious man,” Catherine grumbled. “Probably the only thing I agree with my father on.”
Lauren merely nodded. She was staring at the phone screen. “Uh…”
“What is it?”
“Lesser just deleted My Evil Twin.”
“He what?”
“So, basically, we’ll be blowing the lid off an app that longer exists. What a screw-you parting shot.”
Catherine scowled. “That man is really starting to annoy me.”
Lauren closely regarded Catherine, who was scribbling up her notes from the Lesser interview, and then drained her coffee. Ugh. Cold. “Tell me something,” she said. “How’d you know all that stuff about racist signs and symbols on his wall?”
“I did a story on the rise of white supremacy a few years back.” Catherine didn’t look up, her pen scratching the page. “It’s worse now, though.”
Lauren hesitated. “You know, I wasn’t a fan of that deal you made with Lesser. He deserves to be hung out to dry by his toenails for creating that racist app.”
“He would have been.” Catherine sighed and glanced up. “I had pl
anned to get someone else at the Sentinel to do a follow-up on the Evil Twin story in a day or so, naming and shaming him anyway. I only promised Lesser that we wouldn’t write about him.” She slapped her notebook closed. “But I doubt there’ll be two stories now. Neil might not even be interested in one. Dead news isn’t good news. I’ll write it anyway—The App America Loved, and its Secret Racist Core.”
Lauren regarded her, impressed she’d thought of the second story to get around the deal. “You’re sneaky. You have this level of smart I’ll never have.”
“It’s not being smart. It’s manipulative. I learned young to keep my brain sharp for weaknesses and loopholes.”
“And that’s why you’re ten steps ahead of everyone else. Turns out your dad was good for something. In a weird way.”
Catherine gave Lauren a long look. “On that topic, I need to talk to you. It’s about John.”
“My brother?” She smiled. “The man who still hasn’t said a single word to you?”
“The very same. But before that, I have a job for you. Do you still have Fiona’s cell number?”
“Sure.”
“Call her; confirm she has the chip in her. If she does, explain to her how she wound up in the app, and make sure she knows that even though My Evil Twin is dead she’s still in the FBI’s criminals’ biometric database. Ask her if I can interview her in an hour.”
“An hour? Why not now?”
“She should be fully outraged by the time I call her back. And do you have Hickory’s business card?”
“Still got it.”
“Call him, too.” She tapped a few buttons. “I’ve just emailed you the secret recording from this morning with my father. Play back his worst quotes about Hickory and get him to talk. Really talk. It’s time Lionel Ayers and Frederick T. Hickory headed for an acrimonious divorce.”
Lauren bit her lip. “What makes you think he’ll open up to me on all this?”
“Well, he won’t talk to me anymore. And he’s a white, entitled, middle-aged male who is being mocked as an imbecile and a fall guy, a puppet to be tossed aside. His ego won’t stand for it, and he’ll be furious. Use it. This could be the lynch pin of our main story. Everything will hang off what you manage to get out of Hickory. Okay?”
Lauren swallowed. “Okay.”
“I know you can do this, Lauren. You already know what we need. Lay it all out for him. Tell him everything that we know. I get the feeling he’s completely clueless on most of it. But that fake-terrorism event he has a speech ready for means he’s at least up to his knees in the dirt. Find a way to get through to him.”
“Okay, I’ll do my best. And what will you be doing while I’m interviewing Hickory?”
Catherine’s smile became rigid. “I want to catch up with your family for a bit. Explain why we’ve been so unfocused on the wedding.”
“Is that all?”
“Why?”
“It’s just that…well, you look about ready to throw up.”
Catherine didn’t answer. She rose. “Good luck with Hickory. You’ll do great.”
Chapter 23 –
The Vote
Catherine threaded her way slowly down the stairs to the living room to find most of the King clan lounging, working on a wedding checklist. She could hear the clatter from the kitchen nearby, indicating Meemaw wasn’t far away, either.
It was time. She breathed deeply and came to stand in front of them.
“Excuse me, everyone… Could I have a minute?”
Everyone in the living room sat up, expressions curious. Meemaw poked her head around the corner, then bustled fully out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
Catherine hesitated. “I…I met with my parents today. They’re in Iowa at the moment. There’s no easy way to drop this on you, so I’ll just say it. My father is the President and CEO of Ansom Digital Dynamics International.”
There was a complete lack of reaction. She studied them in confusion. Did they not understand what she’d just said?
“Was that all?” Meemaw peered at her. “Thank goodness. I thought it was something serious. Lucas told us already. We looked up your family on the Google thing. What’s a man need with so many yachts, anyway?”
“I have no idea.” Catherine frowned. “Anyway, in case you’re now all thinking Lauren’s marrying a multimillionaire, I’ve been disowned for two decades now.”
Owen recoiled. “What on earth for?”
“I have a habit of running stories that affect my father’s business associates. He thinks it’s disloyal. And my mother has certain other issues with me that I can’t change.” She gave them a wry look, making it clear exactly what the issue was.
One by one, their faces went taut as they each got it.
“So I guess you also know John works for my father?” Catherine asked.
Nods all round.
“Didn’t seem polite to make a thing of it,” Owen said. “We figured you’d get to mentioning it if it became important.”
“It just became important. We have a story that will be devastating for Ansom. But my father has warned me he’ll fire John if we run any negative story about his company.”
John’s look of shock made her stomach even queasier.
“John loves his job,” Lucas said. “Like, freaking loves it.”
“This is not right,” Matthew said. “Could we fight it?”
“You’d lose,” Catherine said with certainty. “Or possibly win after a very long, drawn-out battle designed to bankrupt you.”
“How important is your story?” Owen asked. “I mean, is it a little thing?”
“It’s very big. Not running the story would threaten the privacy of every American. In fact, it could go global, too.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
“So we need to resist now, while we still can,” Catherine added.
“And you’d take John’s job away to run this story?” Lucas asked.
“It might not just be your brother’s job.” Here it comes. “The last time we ran a story where a company was making a compromised product, the entire company went bankrupt. Ansom is a lot bigger and more well-established, so I wouldn’t expect that outcome. But worst-case scenario is they might shut a plant or two in regional areas if the share price plummets on the back of bad publicity.”
“You’ve got the power to do all that?” Meemaw looked at her as if she’d never seen her before. “But there’s just one of you.”
“Lauren has that power, too.” She spread her hands. “This is what our jobs are. Digging up uncomfortable things. What we write can affect the whole country.”
“Well,” Owen said. “That’s…more than I ever expected you could do.”
“Same,” Mark whispered.
“The whole country?” Lucas repeated, his tone even. “That’s some flamethrower you’re threatening to unpack. You must really want to piss off your old man.”
“No. I don’t enjoy this.” Catherine held his gaze. “It’s not about my pride or a vendetta; it’s about what’s right. No matter what happens next, someone suffers. John, definitely, and possibly many of his workmates. Or the privacy of everyone in the US. I’m not saying it’s not personal, I can’t help that there is that element, but I didn’t make this about family. My father did. We can complain for hours about how unfair all this is, but the facts won’t change.”
“I’m hearing a lot of speculating here,” Lucas said. “Maybe they’ll close a plant. Maybe there’ll be big job losses. You’re just guessing. So, am I right that about the only thing that is guaranteed is the choice involves throwing John under a bus?”
Catherine paused. Well, not exactly how she’d put it, but… “Yes, I suppose. And it’s because of that guaranteed outcome that I’m even here, standing before you, asking… What do you feel should be done
?”
Shock flashed across their faces.
“You haven’t decided to run it?” Lucas said.
“It’s not going to be up to me at all, actually.” Catherine drew in a deep breath. “I originally thought I’d do a deal for my paper and Lauren’s to jointly run the exclusive. But I’ve rethought that. It’s going to be Lauren’s call. I’ve decided to give her our story.”
“Wait,” Lucas said. “You’re going to get Lauren to do a number on her own brother? Is that it? So you don’t have to?” Suspicion flickered across his eyes.
“No, that’s not why. I think it’s important that, because a family member is affected, it’s family who should be consulted and who should decide the outcome. And if it’s a yes, then family should write it. And we all know the truth here. For all the warm welcome I’ve received, which I appreciate, the thing is…” She turned and met Meemaw’s eyes. “I’m not family.”
The to-and-fro-ing over what should be done went on for fifteen minutes.
“John adores that job,” Meemaw kept saying. “Ain’t an easy one to come by, all that futuristic carry-on. But John…”
“Stop it!” The voice was low and irritated. “Everyone’s speaking for me like I’m not here. Ask me.”
Ah. John speaks. Catherine eyed him curiously.
“Lucas is right,” John continued. “That job’s my whole life. That’s a fact. It’s like a dream come true.”
Catherine’s heart sank. “So, John, you’re saying you want to keep your job, then?”
“I don’t just want it. I need this job. It’s everything.” His whole face was a picture of dismay.
There was silence. Catherine exhaled. And there it was.
“I see.” She nodded once, her disappointment in John—in all of them really—washing through her. “Well.” She’d thought it would have gone differently, that these down-to-earth people would live up to who she thought they were. Maybe all families were self-absorbed after all.
No one was meeting her eye except Meemaw, whose look was sharp to the point of brittle. “I’d say we’ve voted no, dear,” she said.
