Jackson stood with a sudden surge. Mariah hurried to follow him and the two left the boardroom. Without saying goodbye, Jackson turned toward the elevator bank. Maria watched him for a moment before heading back to her office, iPad in hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lorraine Samuels, chair of the JPI board of directors, took her seat at the head of the long table in her company boardroom. She smoothed her short grey hair and looked around at her fellow directors. There were six of them present today with three absentees. A quorum.
She smiled broadly as Jackson Phillips entered the room and took his seat. She noted that he took a place with his back to the windows. He wouldn’t be distracted by the bright sunlight that flooded into the room on the 23rd floor of her building.
Lorraine, like the other directors, were top executives of the largest military suppliers in Canada. Little known in the world outside of the military is Canada’s place among the top 15 defence contracting countries. Lorraine’s firm produced sub-systems, mainly for the U.S. military, and earned billions of US dollars per year doing so. She shook her head as she thought of what this meeting was about.
“Well, now that Jackson is here and very welcome, let’s begin. Jackson…” she smiled at her friend, “… the meeting is yours.”
Lorraine’s smile was the last of the morning. Jackson spent the next hour going over all he knew about the theft of source code from the JPI division. He talked about the paucity of information about the theft, about possible thieves and potential buyers of the information. He moved to the potential ramifications of the theft and, finally, into the actions that should be taken without delay to deal with the crisis.
Bill Smitherly, the director seated next to Jackson, spoke to Lorraine, as chair. “I note for the record that Maxim Blax is not here today. This is not only unprecedented, it could be a violation of our duties as directors of JPI.”
Lorraine nodded. “Yes, it could very well be. To hold this meeting without the CEO present, even though he is not a director, is highly irregular. But…” she looked at Jackson, “… I invited him last night, as Jackson had strongly recommended, but Maxim declined that invitation.”
There was an audible gasp from the directors. Bill Smitherly was stunned, his mouth sagging open.
Lorraine waited a beat. “I didn’t mention this at the beginning because I wanted everyone to hear what Jackson had to say. I can add that three of our members - the absent ones - are the ones who asked me yesterday if Max would be here. They also declined to come when they learned he had refused. We had a quorum so I didn’t tell the five who are present - so sue me. But this is something that can’t wait for Max to take it seriously.”
“Are you saying Max is not on board?” Smitherly was belligerent now.
“Yes. That’s precisely what I’m saying,” Lorraine answered in a sharp tone. She brooked no attempt to undermine her authority. “I spoke with Max for a few minutes last night. I told him what Jackson had told me to prepare me for this meeting. He fought me at every word. He didn’t believe Jackson… didn’t believe there was a theft … didn’t think this meeting warranted any of his time. He told me, ‘if you want to have a stupid meeting, go ahead. I won’t stoop to your level.’ I think he called me a name but I was so surprised by his reaction, I stopped listening…”
Smitherly, CEO of an armored fighting vehicle maker, held up his hands, palms toward the board chair. “All of this is so hard to believe, Lorraine. I’m sorry if …” he stopped talking as Lorraine nodded in his direction.
“Hard for all of us,” Lorraine told her fellow directors. Then, she turned to look directly at Jackson Phillips.
“As a special advisor to this board, I am asking you, officially and for the record, what can be done about this calamity?” Her voice was formal and lacked any warmth for her friend.
Jackson reached into a pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew a SD card. He leaned forward to push it into a slot in an elaborate presentation system built into the centre of the board table. He flipped a toggle switch on the control panel. A screen dropped down over the wall at one end of the large room. See-through blinds simultaneously dropped to cover the windows and darken the room. A picture appeared on the large screen; it was a list of items.
Jackson took the fascinated board members through the list of what he would cover - items that would, he hoped, address the crisis that began with the discovery of the theft of source code from his former company. The list was topped with “MLD&T software Version 3.0”.
He began this section of his address: “As you will know, I established JPI a number of years ago after working with a small group of software experts. We had designed and written Version 1.0 of a number of military-focused software solutions including Machine Learning Defence and Targeting solutions.
“Our company was fortunate enough to win customers like your companies in very short order. During the first three years of the company’s existence, behind the scenes, we put together a much larger, more experienced team of software experts and developed Version 2.0 across the board. We set up the MLD&T Division during this time to address one major area of our software offerings.
“It is the source code for Version 2.0 that was stolen.”
Jackson paused to change the slide in his presentation and to sip from a glass of water.
“We are looking at the worst problem in the history of the company. This theft puts all solutions from the division in jeopardy. Everything from MLD&T can be compromised by an enemy that gets the stolen code. This includes the AI in these solutions - the things to be learned by machines running our solutions.”
Several of the directors looked physically ill as they thought of the JPI software employed in systems and equipment their own companies were using, reselling to others and servicing as ‘strategic partners.’
“Our solutions are, simply put, the best of the best. JPI leads in our fields and particularly in MLD&T.” Several directors nodded as they watched the screen and listened to JPI’s founder. “But… over the next year, JPI will be developing something even better. We will begin developing JPI Version 3.0 beginning with all MLD&T solutions.”
There were more gasps from the directors. Smitherly actually rose from his chair but sank back as Lorraine glared at him. Even in the gloom of the darkened room, the director could see the threatening gleam in her eyes.
“Consider this carefully,” Jackson continued as he changed slides again. “Mariah Belo, our public relations VP, has put together an excellent assessment of our problem and a rationale for Version 3.0. Here is how it works…”
Over the next few minutes, Jackson sketched out the future of JPI. To continue the current course, JPI would work to identify the thief and the intended use for the stolen code.
At some point, even if the current investigation was successful, the theft would become known by customers at least and by the public, governments, regulators and the military world in general. In other words, the crisis would go viral. At this point, all JPI software would become suspect. All MLD&T software would be unsalable and clients would be demanding everything from upgrades to refunds all the way to replacement of JPI software with rival products at JPI’s expense.
Meanwhile, Jackson told the directors, the stolen code could be in the hands of an enemy nation, a rogue armed forces unit, a terrorist group or even a competitor among JPI’s group of ‘allies.’ Whoever had the code would be scrambling to produce copies of JPI solutions or to develop ways to defeat JPI software in the market or, worst, on the battlefields across the world.
“We can kid ourselves. We can pray.” Another sip of water. “But no lying, hoping or praying will do any good. In the end, ladies and gentlemen, JPI will be very badly damaged and there is a possibility that it will go out of business. Assets will be sold, of course, but the value of this company is truly in its people, not in its bits and pieces.”
“God,” one of the directors breathed. “We will look like fools�
�”
Another, less self-centred, said, “Thousands of our people will lose their jobs … at JPI and at some of our companies as we lose credibility.”
“Exactly,” Jackson changed to another slide.
“According to Mariah - and to me - we have our best chance of survival if we begin to push Version 2.0 off the cliff in favour of Version 3.0.”
“How is that going to help? JPI clients have 2.0 now; they won’t be happy.” The remark came from Sonia Hassan, head of a firm that designed and made camouflage clothing for troops, paints and templates for military equipment of all kinds.
Jackson enumerated the benefits of developing a Version 3.0 to replace 2.0 entirely.
First, it would make the stolen software much less valuable and eventually worthless. Would it make sense for a buyer of the code to put a lot of work and money into creating new code to defeat software that would be totally obsolete within the time to develop Cyberattacks 2.0? Jackson’s query was rhetorical.
Second, the move could be used to promote JPL, making it less vulnerable to any attack on its credibility. “We can advertise Version 3.0 as a total redevelopment of the best military software on the market - the renaissance of even better software.”
Third, Jackson continued, “We’ll have a chance to explain our version of Artificial Intelligence - machine learning that helps keep our soldiers safe and civilians even safer. And our AI will be more advanced than anything in today’s software, including the stolen code. Whatever the thief’s client could learn from 2.0 source code will be old news compared with 3.0. Who would care?”
Fourth and final, for now, Jackson concluded, Mariah’s team recommended that current clients with 2.0 software get priority for Version 3.0 with credit for their used software. In effect, JPI will let clients trade in 2.0 for 3.0.
I just said fourth and final, Jackson said quietly but with a broad smile. But I’ll add that this redo will move us well ahead of the Chinese in computer vision and artificial intelligence technology. With that, there was an added glint in many eyes and a couple of board members actually applauded.
Jackson regained his seat and leaned over to change the slides to a financial chart.
“Before anyone ruptures themselves jumping with joy, here are the answers to your burning questions. How much money will all this cost over what period of time.”
He waved at the chart on the screen. “I propose developing Version 3.0 for MLD&T, beginning all the way to marketing, in one year.”
Jackson waited for the murmurs to die. “To do this and maintain all current activities, we will need to hire at least 200 additional programmers along with a bunch of developers, designers, engineers… you see it all on the chart.”
The cost for development of 3.0, Jackson told the board, would begin with $100 million US in JPI’s own funds. “So, we’re looking at a tad over $130 million in Canadian dollars.” After that, Jackson announced, JPI would look to equity firm CPE for more on submission of a full development and business plan.
The murmuring grew louder as the numbers sank into the over-taxed brains of the directors.
“Budgeting will be needed for things including extra space to accommodate more people, marketing dollars, advertising money and, of course, funding for all the public relations activities of Ms. Belo and her team.” He told the board he couldn’t overestimate the importance of public and media relations in the veritable reform of the whole company.
Lorraine spoke up from her position as board chair. “One more thing, people. I want to invite Jackson to join the board as a full member, not in an ex-officio role, and I want a vote on that right now.”
Hands shot up around the table. Smitherly’s was the last hand up and his face was expressionless unlike others that bore wide smiles.
“Unanimous. Do you accept, Jackson?”
“Subject to my right to re-retire any time I want,” Jackson told the board to a round of polite applause and laughter.
“Fine. Then, we appoint you as head of a committee to supervise the development of Version 3.0 of our software. Pick your team, Jackson,” Lorraine told him with a grin.
“Sonia and Bill,” Jackson said without hesitation.
Bill Smitherly looked at Jackson in shock. “I would be the last one I thought you would ask, Jackson.”
Jackson turned his smile toward Smitherly with a short nod to Sonia. “I want colleagues who will ask questions and provide another view when necessary.”
“Then, I accept,” Smitherly said, rising and rounding the table to shake Jackson’s hand. That drew another burst of muted applause from the other directors. He hesitated. “And I’d like to propose Jackson take over the CEO’s role subject to our closer look at Max’s performance.”
“We’ll table that,” said Lorraine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The board discussed the plan and the numbers for another two hours. In the end, having set a record for the longest board session in JPI history, the directors voted. They approved the software development, marketing and new advertising numbers but they refused to approve a new budget for PR even though it was the smallest of all raises.
Jackson thought to himself the denial of PR money showed how much the directors feared ‘going public’ even to defend against a major crisis. They thought they would stay in the shadows instead of being named as directors of JPI or as potential spokespeople. It was a typical reaction of a majority of executives, thought Jackson.
He made another mental note to talk to Lorraine - she had backed the PR expenditure - about choosing a new board down the line. Perhaps a year down the road in line with the release of JPI Version 3.0 for MLD&T.
No one else knew of the board’s discussions. They had to remain secret until Jackson won board approval. They also had to remain secret to deny at least this much inside information to the thief. According to everything discovered by Barry and Jean, the thief had to be among the executive or senior managerial ranks.
Jackson thought for a moment that this definition would include Barry and Jean. He dismissed that idea as simply too much to handle. If either of them was a thief, Jackson would go back to his super cottage and row his whole island out to the middle of Georgian Bay.
As the afternoon progressed, lunch forgotten, Jackson borrowed an office at Lorraine’s company and set to work making phone calls. The first and easiest call he made was to Payne, JPI’s CFO. Payne received Jackson’s news calmly, as he did most monumental information.
“A hundred million. Reminds me when you talked me into joining JPI when it had no money, no offices and, according to me, no hope.” Payne chuckled.
“Back then, a hundred dollars would have looked good. I was looking at draining our savings and pensions. We were nuts.” Jackson’s memories flooded back. They were good.
“Okay, I think we can do it on that,” said Payne as he ruminated. “We can borrow and pay back out of profits.”
“If there are any.”
“We’ll have a long meet with Rebecca in Marketing,” said Payne referring to Rebecca Rollins, JPI’s Marketing VP, “… but I think this could even be good for the company. If we can meet the deadline. One year for a total redo of MLD&T would set some kind of record.”
“Then, I had better move my butt. See you later, Payne.” And Jackson was off and running.
His second call was to Mariah Belo who was ecstatic at the approval of the board for Version 3.0 development but upset by the lack of approval for a special PR budget.
“I guess we’ll have to make do with what we have, Jackson,” she told him in the brief call.
“I was the one who thought crisis communications was a skillset we needed, Mariah. I can top up the funding whenever you need it. I’ve got deep pockets and few places to spend it.”
He told the rest of JPI’s executive staff after advising Jean and Barry of the work they would have in store. Both of them groaned at the news but he could tell, behind the moaning, both of them were t
remendously excited and eager to get to work on a whole new set of solutions.
His reception by the rest of the leadership team was muted. It was a lot to take in, particularly for Fred Nbodo and Carmen Flores. The COO bristled at not having a vote in the plan Jackson took to the board. “You should have told us, Jackson. We’re the ones that will spend half of every night in the office up to our necks in unwashed programmers.” Then she asked, “What did Maxim say to the board.”
Jackson revealed that Maxim had refused to attend the meeting and that the board had gone ahead without him. She was aghast. There was no winning this battle, Jackson thought as he told the distraught woman he had to reach others. He told her he would advise Blax about the board’s decisions but he doubted she heard a word he was saying at the end of the tense call.
Maxim Blax was last to be called by Jackson. Phillips had wanted to get buy-in from the rest of leadership before he confronted Blax. As it turned out, Jackson was spared the face-off. Blax refused three of his calls before Phillips gave up and prepared to head back to his condo for the evening. ‘You can lead a horse to water,’ Jackson told himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Petrenko recognized what he had come to think of as The Voice before the second word. It was early evening and the Russian Federation agent was lounging in his apartment, chewing on beef jerky while he watched a Russian language film on Netflix. The ringing of his cell had interrupted a scene involving a shootout and Petrenko was annoyed.
“Petrenko, we have a problem.” The Voice was more urgent.
“Yeah… I have a problem with you…” Petrenko let his ire show.
“You know,” The Voice overrode Petrenko, “that JPI is well aware of the taking of their code. But, we thought there was nothing they could do about it. They weren’t going to tell the world, were they?” The Voice slowed now that Petrenko was listening. “But that son of a bitch Phillips is screwing around…”
The Russian Crisis Page 9
