by Jack Gardner
1
The last late afternoon rays of sun envelop the five-story building in a soft red glow. At first sight, nothing seems different about this building; nothing sets it apart from the other industrial buildings that line the small street. The soft light, rapidly dimming, lit the faces of the men who sat in a white Citroen parked about a hundred feet away from the building.
Astonished, the man in the passenger seat, who was known as “Boomer,” said “Kill me, but I never would have guessed…”
“I totally agree,” said Sammy, the man in the driver’s seat. He leaned forward, pressed the car lighter, and in one long movement pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and put it in his mouth. There was a long silence in the car for a moment, while the two men waited for the click sound the lighter makes when it is ready. Sammy lit his cigarette, inhaled deeply, and exhaled a nice smoke ring out the car window.
“Let me introduce you,” he did not move his body toward his passenger while he spoke. Except for his lips, his body was in repose, “to the headquarters of the national lottery, known to all as ‘The Millionaires.’”
Boomer looked at him from the corner of his eyes. “In all likelihood, due to cold calculations, and not because of any form of modesty,” he said. His voice did not betray any kind of cynicism when he discussed what he thought was an odd location for the headquarters.
“Yes. I asked around about it. They planned for it to be that way. In the suburbs, in a small industrial zone that mainly houses small and medium-size service corporations. They had to convert the building’s original designation from an industrial facility to a national organization. In the same spirit, they also decided to retain the building’s original exterior. Which made you, I presume, react the way you did.”
“I won’t deny it. I imagined the headquarters of a business that makes hundreds of millions of dollars a year quite differently.”
“Over a billion dollars, to be exact.” Sammy inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs. The location in the suburbs is meant to avoid too much attention. Obviously, they had to put in a high-end security system in order to protect the most important asset in the building: a splendid computing system, the heart of the national lottery, which is linked to about two thousand lottery terminals, and contains data on all bets at any given time.”
The sunlight was disappearing quickly and the streetlights cast a yellow glow on the trees and the few cars parked at the street. Sammy exhaled two smoke rings, proving that the first ring was no accident, before he continued: “Inside, the building is totally different. Its exterior may seem gray and industrial, but the interior is sumptuous and lavishly decorated. The bottom line is, a business that makes a billion dollars a year spoils itself and its employees with the best tools and work environment that money can buy.”
The man known as Boomer attentively examined the building. His eyes skimmed through the entrance gate, the patrol booth, and the first three flights of windows, all protected by iron bars.
“Just don’t tell me we’re going to need a fucking chopper with a team that would come in through the roof.” He summed his impression.
Sammy giggled. “Don’t worry. Believe it or not, I already paid a visit to the esteemed owners themselves. Apparently they like publicity. It’s a common weakness. They are dying to flaunt their achievements to their colleagues. Not to everyone, of course, only the select few. And they’re not cheap: you get the whole nine yards—lecture, tour, and lunch.” He didn’t mention the gift basket.
Darkness fell, and now their faces were also tinted with the street lamps’ yellow light. An ambulance siren was heard from the highway.
Boomer cleared his throat. “I read your report. Is this really the biggest lottery reward ever offered?”
“Definitely,” replied Sammy, as he leaned forward and put out his cigarette in the ashtray, “it’s a governmental monopoly for the creation of get-rich-quick dreams. So rich you would never have to work again. And in fact, it is an efficient way for the government to tempt its citizens to fund governmental investments on their own. The government sells lottery tickets and does not consider it a tax, but it’s a tax, and a bad tax indeed, because most citizens who pay it do not receive anything in return.”
He stopped talking when the two of them looked at the sudden activity in front of the building, when a white van stopped in front of it. Before the passenger even left the car, a man in uniform emerged from the building and approached him. A second guard armed with a submachine gun stood at the entrance, watching over the first guy. Following a quick conversation, the van left and the two men walked back in to the building. Sammy and Boomer thought the same thing: it was undoubtedly a perfect example of alertness and meticulous regulations. Sammy continued, “They made sure that the Millionaires permit would be large enough in order to draw more money from the public. That is why they once in a while raise the first prize to an imaginary sum of money. There is no point in stating that the chances of winning are slim to none.”
“Yes, you’re right,” said Boomer, “and is that where we fit in?”
“Exactly. The new millennium is an opportunity for the Millionaires to upgrade. And so, they are offering the highest prize ever, ten million dollars.”
“A lofty sum, definitely.”
“Enough for our just—even if not so modest—needs.”
“If we make it, we will be taking away the hopes of many people. We would not be forgiven.”
“As I said, these are false hopes for most of them. But the end justifies the means.”
“A practical, and probably true, Machiavellianism.” He sounded skeptical, but Boomer never hid the fact that he was always skeptical. “In any case, I think we should move on with the plan.”
“Definitely,” answered Sammy, who was looking forward to that exact reply. All that needed to be said was said. Sammy started the engine, gave the building, which shimmered in yellow light one last glance, and drove off.
2
Three months earlier, a small group of special security services men paid a visit to the elaborate conference room in the third floor of the Millionaires’ headquarters. The Millionaires would occasionally host the representatives of national organizations in order to present them with their efficient ways and numerous accomplishments.
That day’s presentation was given by the Vice President of Operations, a large man of about 6’2”, formally dressed in a fine gray business suit and a dark-red tie hanging from a white dress shirt whose sleeves were showing, exposing a pair of pearl-color cuff links set in gold.
The man, about fifty years old, with a head full of slicked-back gray hair, wore on his narrow and slightly crooked nose a pair of frameless glasses through which his piercing clear blue eyes were incredibly clearly visible. It was obvious that he took pleasure in impressing his guests. They listened to his words with true curiosity, and due to their profession, took great care to internalize the information given to them in order to remember it later.
A map with numerous colorful dots on it was screened in the background, and the VPO cleared his throat and said: “My name is Eitan. I came here ten years ago, and in the past four years I have been serving as the company’s Vice President of Operations.”
He paused for a moment, in order to allow his words to make an impression, and went on, “The goal of this meeting, as I’ve been explained, is to describe the national lottery system in detail to this distinguished forum. I will not be exaggerating if I began by saying that this system is considered very successful, and receives much praise, from both the establishment and the public.”
‘Time will tell,’ Sammy, the intelligence bureau man who sat in the center of the group, just in front of the lecturer, thought to himself.
“I will begin with some background information, before we dive into the processes themselves.”
The men seated around the impressive U-shaped wooden table leaned back, some sent their hands toward the drinks in front of them.
“Even though the national gambling system is run by the Millionaires, it is controlled by the government, as the government is its guarantor. In fact, we are a national corporation, which is a monopoly of gambling due to a special franchise granted to it by the government. So, in fact, all profits—after we clear our operation costs, of course—are invested in the government or governmental organizations. Thus, one could see our operation as an extra governmental development budget whose uniqueness is in the fact that it originates in the citizens’ income.”
‘And that is the problem,’ thought Sammy, while smiling and nodding to the VPO, in a gesture meant to ensure the latter that he understood him.
The VPO sipped from a glass of water, and, as he felt that his last statement may be interpreted as a criticism of the government, tried to soften his words. “It is, in fact, an ideal situation for everyone, because it allows for the efficient operation of a business organization, which does not suffer from unmanageable bureaucracy, alongside zero risks for he who wants to gamble with his own money—and does not want to be in a hopeless situation when the hand of luck touches him and he wins the big prize.”
‘If it ever comes,’ thought Sammy.
A hand rose in the audience, and the VPO turned toward the curious one.
“How does the activity of government-backed gambling settle with claims brought up by some that it is a negative encouragement to increase poverty and socio-economic gaps?”
The VPO did not seem bothered with this suggestion that doubted the government’s moral code. This kind of nuisance happens once in a while by someone who wants to stand out. He pulled out the all-convincing statement: “With the exception of the operation costs of this activity—and believe me, we are a highly efficient organization—all of the money returns to the public in the form of development of infrastructure, education, health, and so forth, especially among those socio-economic groups that need it. The achievements are big and many. I will say just this, and then we can return to our business—in a few months we are going to hold the millennium lottery. This lottery has an unprecedented prize and we expect the public to respond accordingly. In line with our experience, we can surely estimate that this lottery would allow us to transfer about five to ten million dollars of development budget into the public fund. Think for a second about what can be done for the community with these sums of money.”
And while the guests thought about it, the VPO took another sip of water, and returned to his presentation.
“The Millionaires controls 2000 lottery terminals selling lottery tickets, scattered across the country, as you can see on the map.” He paused for a moment to test whether his audience was attentive, which they were, and went on: “All lottery terminals are connected through the latest Frame Relay communications line to the computer center in this building. By the way, if any term I am using is unfamiliar to any of you, please don’t hesitate to stop me.”
‘He is definitely trying to please,’ thought Sammy.
“And this is how the system works: workstations in the terminals receive the buyer’s forms and automatically transmit them to the central computer here on the second floor. The data is continually collected as a magnetic file until very close to the time of the lottery. You wanted to ask something? Please.”
The raised hand was Sammy’s.
“I wanted to ask how quickly the system transmits the data.”
“Let’s see,” it was clear that the VPO was happy to show off his knowledge of the derails. “Small stations work with 64K lines, the larger with 128K, and three also have 256K lines.”
“So I’m assuming most of the lines are 64K?”
“I’d say so.”
“Thanks,” said Sammy, memorizing the information.
All of a sudden, the lights were off and the projector image disappeared from the screen. The listeners, all people whose professions revolved around security, were tense. The lecturer, however, remained calm, and while looking at his watch he effortlessly said, “Localized power outage, gentlemen. It happens quite often around here, and allows me to introduce you to our backup system. Here, in three seconds…” and indeed, it seemed like the whole building shook for a moment as a powerful machine started beating in its depths. Instantaneously, the lights were back on, and the screen was filled once again with the image that was projected on to it. “An independent generator starts working automatically, as you’ve just seen, within ten seconds of the blackout. At that moment, all of the systems in the building return to full function, and the continuous service to our lottery terminals is resumed. It is almost superfluous to say that we are prepared to work independently for an indefinite time.”
A few people in the audience exchanged impressed glances. Money answers everything.
The VPO glanced at his watch again. “Okay, if I can continue. At the set time for the lottery, the files containing all of the lottery forms are burned on two CDs, which are then taken from the server room to an adjacent room we call the ‘control room.’ Soon, you’ll be able to see it for yourselves in the tour Leora had prepared for you,” he nodded toward a woman in her thirties, with short blond hair, green eyes, and a slim figure who, like her boss, was fashionably dressed in a fitted black suit. She smiled and blushed a little, clearly happy with the attention she was getting.
“Well,” the VPO continued, “the control room, as I said, is completely exposed and has no furniture, except for one large state-of-the-art safe, which is monitored by a closed-circuit television connected to two parallel monitors: one on the third floor, in an office occupied by the accountant in charge of the proper examination of the lottery results, and the other monitor in the office of the Millionaires’ security officer.
He paused for a minute, assuming that nobody in his audience could internalize all of these details. Not realizing just how wrong he was, he placed his hand on his glass of water and took a sip. “I know this is a lot of information,” he apologized, “but I was asked to describe the process in detail to you, and this is what I am trying to do.” Since no one seemed to object, the VPO saw this as an approval to go on with his original plan. “So this is how things are done: minutes before the raffle closes, the accountant watches the safe from his office through the closed-circuit television. The inspector on duty, who is linked to him on an internal line, receives his permission to continue, when he walks into the control room, opens the safe—which is empty at that moment—and deposits the two CDs containing the lottery forms data in it. While the accountant watches him, he closes the safe’s door, and turns the combination lock so that it shuts completely.”
Again, he pauses in order to let the information sink in. ‘How detailed and exact!’ one of the guests thought to himself, ‘much better than my most optimistic scenarios…’
“So what we have now are these two CDs in the safe, containing the only valid information concerning the upcoming raffle. You have to remember that the central computer, the one used to collect the data from the lottery terminals, will not be used to scan for winning forms. We run this scan from a different computer, located in a nearby hall. A glass wall separates this computer from the main hall, and its sole role is to run the files—which will be brought in from the safe following the raffle—in order to see if there is a winning form, meaning, a form whose numbers are identical to the numbers that came up in the raffle.”
The VPO paused again in order to take a sip of water, and Sammy was pondering, smiling to himself, that the silence is kept only by the will, maybe exaggerated, of the listeners to leave a positive impression of how serious they are.
“At this point, after both data CDs are in the safe, its doors are closed by the inspector, and the accountant approves of it,” the VPO repeated what he said in different words, “he gives a green light to the chairman in charge of the raffles that the setup is ready. From this moment on, no one will have access to the safe—except for that same accountant, who is the only one who knows the combination o
f numbers for its lock. More so: in order to prevent any kind of extreme situation, the entire building becomes a sterile zone—and, considering your positions, I’m sure you know what that means.”
‘If only you knew just how…’ thought Sammy.
“Protocol is that two hours before the raffle—which, by the way, does not take place here but in a special location downtown—the building is completely locked down. No one comes and no one goes. We have a security team carefully inspect every room, leaving no potential hiding spot unturned, in order to assure that all those present in the sterile building are, in fact, permitted to be there. In addition, the accountant receives special protection from the moment the CDs are placed in the safe and until the raffle is over, and two armed men accompany him from his third-floor office to the control room.”
A slight pause and a subtle gesture, slightly too theatrical, to Leora, to turn up the air conditioner.
‘No doubt, this is a man of etiquette, who would not have survived even a month with us,’ thought Sammy while the voice carried over the conference room again.
“The raffle itself, as I said earlier, is conducted in the Millionaires’ lottery building, under the scrutinizing eyes of an audience and the television camera lenses, broadcasting it live to one of the major networks. At the end of the raffle, the accountant opens the safe and, accompanied by the guards, takes the CDs to the room where he locates the winners. I forgot to mention earlier that the computer used to locate the winners has no hard drive, and can only read and sort through the information on the CDs.”
‘Good thing you remembered,’ Sammy burns the information into his memory, and goes on listening attentively, not missing a word.
“Using a number pad, the six numbers that came up in the raffle are punched in and represented on a large electronic board that takes up the entire front wall. You will see it on your tour.”
The VPO’s glass was almost empty, Sammy thought this may be the last pause, and he was indeed right. “As soon as the computer begins to locate the winners, the room is locked, and is under permanent monitoring by the accountant, the raffle manager, and the supervisor, until the process is complete. The completion of the process means adding another millionaire to the country’s list of millionaires, and sometimes even more than one. On top of that—more money to improve the quality of life of populations who need it… and that’s it, gentlemen. I hope you were positively impressed with our working method. It is an efficient and fair procedure, based on a smart system that is perfectly secure. I will be happy to answer any questions.”
