by Margaret Kay
“So, we’ll want to enact twenty-four-hour observation on him?” Cooper asked.
“Yes, and Ruth Arnold,” Garcia confirmed. “I can find no reason that she would cooperate with this, but she had to have been the one to wipe the server. From my investigation of everyone at Carstairs, she is the only one with the skill and access needed to pull it off. Unless someone from the outside was hired.”
“What about Dennis Napolitano?” Lambchop asked.
Garcia shook his head. “I cannot find anything that leads back to him directly. Madison will tell you he is slimy.” He paused and chuckled. “He’s already made a couple of hard passes at her, but complicit in this, neither of us think that is the case based on what we’ve seen so far. By all accounts, he cares about the rig workers and safety.”
Cooper’s lips pulled into an amused smirk. Lambchop knew that Madison could handle anything that anyone threw at her, and so did Cooper.
“If he’s really clean and cares that much for the rig workers and safety, he could be best used on our side,” Lambchop suggested. “Do we know if there is much affection between him and Devlin?”
“That’s a good question,” Cooper said. “I think the relationship between the two should be looked at.”
“What do you have on Denise Paulo?” Lambchop asked.
“Just what was pushed through to the bios for you to review. Which is not much.”
“Brielle noted in the bio that her salary is pathetically low,” Lambchop said.
“Yes, it is. And she is way overqualified for her position,” Garcia added. “I’ve spoken with her a few times. She’s very intelligent and knows just about everything her boss does, from what I can tell, maybe even more. She’s done the job of actually working out in the control room of a rig which Napolitano hasn’t.”
“So, that begs the question of why is her title administrative assistant? The ‘Old Boys’ club?” Lambchop suggested.
“Could be,” Garcia agreed. “Those in charge do throw off that vibe. And there is nothing in her file of anything disciplinary that I can find. She wasn’t demoted. As a matter of fact, her move from rig control room technician to administrative assistant was a lateral move.”
“May have been a move just to be home more. Two weeks on and two weeks off a platform is hard on family life, I’m sure,” Mother said. “It looks like her move into that roll was six months before her most recent divorce.”
“I say we ask her why. Garcia, you have a relationship with her. First opportunity you have, ask her. And we add that to your investigation,” Cooper said, his eyes on Mother. “Talk with her ex, find out from him why she took the lateral move into the headquarters.”
Both Mother and Garcia nodded.
“Okay, before we step foot into Carstairs headquarters, what else do we need to know, Garcia?” Cooper asked.
“On the surface they appear to be cooperating with the audit, but we’ve had to ask multiple times to be granted access or be given information. They’re not really openly cooperating.”
“That’s nothing new for target companies with federal auditors after an incident,” Cooper said. “Okay, we have a starting point. I’d like to get a hold of Wally Dalton’s attorney’s and personally take a shot at him.” He turned to Lambchop. “I want you in on that. You were out on that platform and spoke with the other platform manager, Mikey O’Connor, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Mikey showed me the logbook with Dalton’s updates and initials regarding all the information they logged including the status updates and emails sent regarding those updates. I wish I would have taken a picture of the logbook with my phone to have the proof. It burned up when the rig exploded.”
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” Cooper said. “Next time.”
Lambchop nodded. He was still pissed at himself for not getting proof of the logbook while he was on the rig. “We’ll have to check on O’Connor’s condition. Unless Carstairs silences him, he knows those updates were made in the logbook and he knows he sent the required status emails.”
“Last I checked, he was still unconscious and in critical condition,” Sloan spoke up. “I’ll contact the Anchorage FBI and make sure we are notified when he is conscious. I’ll reiterate to them the importance of capturing his statement as a witness.”
“And make sure they make it clear that he is as much of a victim as everyone else. He was a nice guy, helpful when we were on the rig,” Lambchop added.
“And FYI, they have us set up in a conference room in their executive wing. I’ve swept it every morning. I’ve found no cameras, but I have found a listening device. We’ve left it and are feeding them false info in our discussions. We bounce between two other conference rooms to hold meetings with our targets. So far, I haven’t found a bug in either of those rooms.”
Cooper chuckled. “Any indication your stuff is being gone through when you are not in the room?”
“No, but as you know the security that we have on our devices is top notch. We’ve used no paper files. Maybe one of you should and we see what happens.”
Cooper and Lambchop drove one of the vehicles and followed Garcia to the Carstairs headquarters. It was less impressive than Lambchop had envisioned. It was a two-story building on the outskirts of Midland in a mostly industrial area. It was a plain utilitarian cinderblock building without much style. The inside was as drab as the outside.
Madison met them in the small lobby. “Hi, did you have a nice flight?”
Both Cooper and Lambchop nodded and exchanged pleasantries with her. Not only was the receptionist watching them, but both men noted the surveillance cameras in both corners of the room.
“We’re set up in one of the conference rooms on the second floor in the executive area,” Madison said. “They have everything but R and D at this location, so we won’t have to audit any other site.”
Lambchop gave the receptionist a grin as he followed Madison up the stairs. She was an African American woman in her early thirties. She’d been watching and listening, most likely on the behalf of the upper management, but she also smiled at him when their eyes met. He might be able to establish an in with her on a personal level.
Madison paused at a glass door that led to what Lambchop guessed was the executive suite. “The conference room they are letting us use is here. We need to get you registered with the executive assistant who sits at that desk.” She pointed to the matronly looking older Hispanic woman with a stern look on her face who was seated just within the doors. “Her name is Iris, and she is the gatekeeper. She’s very protective of everyone in this area and Carstairs in general.” Then she pushed the door open. “Hi Iris, these our are colleagues, John Wiess, and Don Reeves,” she introduced pointing to Cooper and Lambchop.
“Here are your visitor badges. Wear them at all times you are in the building. You need to check in with me when you enter or exit this suite, gentlemen,” Iris said. “And if you need anything at all, just let me know and I will make sure it is taken care of.”
“Yes, Iris has been indispensable,” Garcia said, flashing her a small smile which she returned. “Can you do us a huge favor and contact the attorney representing Wally Dalton? We would like to arrange a follow up meeting with him.”
Iris nodded. “And Mr. Napolitano would like to see you when you have time, Anthony.”
“I’ll go right after we show John and Don where you have us set up. Thank you, Iris. You should both come with me to meet Dennis and his assistant, Denise. They have been key in getting us access to what we are charged with for the audit.”
Lambchop smiled at Iris. “Thank you, Iris,” he said as he passed her. It was obvious that Garcia had already charmed her, so it could be done.
After they dropped their backpacks in the conference room, Garcia led him deeper within the suite to the door marked D. Napolitano, Global Operations Manager. Garcia swung the door open. Cooper and Lambchop followed him in.
Lambchop recognized Denise Paulo from her picture in th
e biography he’d studied, though in person, she was more attractive than her picture had made her appear. She sat at her desk just outside of a door that he figured led into Napolitano’s inner office.
“Hi Denise,” Garcia greeted. “Iris told me that Dennis wanted to see me.”
She nodded but her eyes focused on Cooper and Lambchop.
“These are my colleagues, the last two auditors who were supposed to arrive with Maddie and me. This is John Wiess and Don Reeves,” he introduced.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said. She stood to shake their hands, and Lambchop was surprised that she was damn-near the same height he was. “Dennis is just finishing up a phone call. He’ll be with you in a minute.”
“Has your office gotten any updates on Mike O’Connor’s condition,” Lambchop asked.
The woman frowned and shook her head. “Unfortunately, the last we heard there was no change.”
“I reviewed personnel records as part of the audit,” Lambchop said. “He supports his mother, who is in a long-term care facility.”
“Yes, we’ve made sure that the payroll deductions that he set up to pay for her care will continue for as long as he’s in the hospital. I remember when Mikey set it up. He was insistent that it come out of his check like child-support rather than him setting it up for his bank to send it or the care facility to draw it. I think he doesn’t pay much attention to his bank balance. A lot of the guys don’t. It’s easier to have everything set up automatically. The two weeks on a rig make it hard to attend to their finances.”
“I imagine it would,” Lambchop agreed. “I read that not all of them have an internet connection. I found that surprising.”
Denise laughed. “Yes, shocking isn’t it? You just kind of expect that there are internet connections everywhere these days. We are in the process of retrofitting our older platforms. They should all have an internet connection by the end of the year.”
“I saw that most have gyms,” Lambchop added.
“Yes, we are trying to find space on each for a gym too.”
“Do the workers on the rigs really have time to go to the gym for a workout. I read that the rotation is twelve hours on, twelve off,” Lambchop said.
“That is true. We try to encourage healthy lifestyles while on the rig, including a healthy diet and exercise, though many of the jobs are very physical.”
“Those who work in the control rooms don’t have a very physical job, do they?” Lambchop pressed.
“No. Those and a few other areas are not physical jobs. That is why we are trying to provide gyms on all platforms,” Denise admitted.
Lambchop found it odd that she hadn’t divulged that she once worked on a platform. He’d given her plenty of opportunity to with this line of conversation. It appeared that they would have to ask her straight out about her prior position with Carstairs.
The door to Napolitano’s office opened. The man appeared even more polished in person than in his photo. His suit was expensive. His white dress shirt was heavily starched. His salt and pepper hair was cropped and styled to a manly perfection that would enable him to pose for a boardroom’s monthly calendar if such a thing existed.
“Dennis, my colleagues, John Wiess and Don Reeves,” Garcia introduced. “This is Dennis Napolitano, the Global Operations Manager for Carstairs.”
He greeted both men warmly, like they were trusted partners, not federal authorities there to audit their operations and assign fault and liability for an explosion and loss of life. Lambchop didn’t buy his ‘oh-shucks, good old boy’ routine for a second. The other thing he noticed was Napolitano’s distinctive Texas twang.
Lambchop reached into his pocket and withdrew his cell phone. He pretended to check something on it, but he activated the record function, capturing a voice sample from him. He would also collect one from Dalton when he wasn’t aware of it. They had a warrant for a voice sample from Dalton that they would surprise him with. They would have Peter Keeling listen to see if he could identify either man’s voice as the voice he overheard through his cousin’s phone. And they would also send it to the FBI to match both samples to the voice in that deleted voicemail the FBI found on Patrick Keeling’s phone that said, “don’t fuck this up. Either control her or we will.”
“So, what did you need to see me about, Dennis?” Garcia asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Dennis Napolitano said. “Ruth tells me that you have requested more unnecessary access to the network. She’s concerned that you are wasting your time by following what she calls ghosts in the system.”
Lambchop watched Garcia’s lips curl into a sneer. He knew him well enough to know that look meant he was about to destroy both ‘good ole boy’ Dennis and Ruth.
“Well Dennis, it is my time to waste, isn’t it? And given that my team has the federal oversite responsibility because there was a significant loss of life, an explosion, and pollution to what was a pristine ecosystem, I get to determine what is necessary and unnecessary. Lastly, Ruth knows damn well there are no ghosts in the system. What she refers to as ghosts are the clues that her server has been wiped. The questions that arise are why was it wiped? Who wiped it? And exactly what data was wiped?”
Lambchop watched Dennis fumble for what to say to that. Finally, he nodded, knowing that Garcia was correct in everything he’d said. “I will instruct Ruth to cooperate. I think she is worried you may compromise the integrity of the data if you are not careful.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Cooper said. “Anthony is the most careful and skilled man I know when it comes to networks.”
“Thanks, John,” Garcia said. “If that is all you needed me for, Dennis, I’m going to head back down to Ruth’s office and get back to work.”
“Certainly,” Dennis said. Then he affixed his stare on Cooper. “Iris notified me that you have called Wally Dalton back in. Despite our pleas with him to answer your team’s questions, his attorney has instructed him to take the fifth from here out. I don’t see why that would be beneficial to you.”
Lambchop almost laughed out loud. Dalton’s attorney? No, it was Carstairs attorney.
“We just want to meet the man,” Cooper said. “We respect his rights.”
“Dennis, you have a call scheduled that I know you need to make,” Denise said.
Lambchop gave her a smile. Iris wasn’t the only gatekeeper. “It was nice to meet you both.”
He and Cooper returned to the conference room. Madison waited there. Garcia headed back down to the network area. “Iris notified me that Dalton and his attorney will be in at sixteen hundred. We’ve used a second conference room down the hall when we’ve talked with anyone. This one is set up to use as our command center. Only our group has access to this room.” She rolled her eyes. “You can leave any personal items here and we know they will be safe.”
Cooper flashed her a smile. “So, bring us up to speed on the items that Don and I will follow up on.”
“Certainly,” Madison said. “I know Anthony will need Don’s help with the network, but I will want his help to go through the internal reports and communications surrounding the leak. John, all the safety standards and Carstairs policies and training programs that support them, specifically Carstairs lax drug testing program will be a focal point for you to review, which I know is your area of expertise, so I will turn over to you what I’ve discovered on that front. My initial review seems to suggest that like in so many other companies we’ve audited that the communications are not always presented to the correct audience.”
“Yeah, that or the audience the info is presented to, doesn’t always have the authority to act on it. We’ve seen that too many times too,” Cooper answered, staying with the script.
“Yes, we have,” Lambchop agreed. They would wait and see who jumped on the false narrative they’d laid out. It was funny how when giving people possible outs for issues, they would jump on them if it appeared that it would divert blame.
“Okay, John, I’m going t
o leave you to it, and I’ll walk Don down to Ruth Arnold’s office and leave him with Anthony.”
Lambchop followed Madison from the room. They checked out with Iris and then took the stairs to basement level one. Madison swiped her badge over the reader at the door. “The badge gives you access to this area.” She led him into the secure IT area and to Ruth Arnold’s office. Garcia sat at her desk. She was nowhere in sight.
“Where is Ruth Arnold?” Lambchop asked.
Garcia pointed at the door. “The server room is through that door over there. She’s in there.”
Madison smiled. She raised her hand and circled it. “Wipe, wipe, wipe.”
Garcia chuckled. He nodded to Lambchop. “Open my tablet and take a seat.” He pointed at the small conference table that was in the room where his laptop sat. “I need you to run a few things for me.”
