The Devil's Analyst

by Dennis Frahmann

  Just outside the wine cellar, the game room held a large fireplace with a showplace of a hearth that sported an enormous mantel. Outfitted with gas logs, the fireplace required only one flick of the finger on a switch and the flames would burst forth. Danny was tempted to sweep everything off the shelves and out of the desk drawers . . . and carry everything out, set the fire blazing, and toss each piece onto the flames. One by one, the ashes could float up the flue and out into the night breezes. But Danny had learned his lesson decades earlier. Eliminating the possibility of knowing didn’t keep one from wondering and reliving what might have been.

  It was painful but he had forced himself to face the room. During the course of the past few weeks, he read through every document. Upon completion, he wasn’t certain he had made the right decision. He wasn’t even certain he understood Josh one bit better than before he had started. But Danny had learned he stood alone.

  The truth was he preferred the Josh that shimmered in his happy memories captured in the photo albums upstairs and in the stories that friends would repeat. That Josh was gone, not just because he was missing for two months and not because he left behind the tools that made it moot whether he was dead, alive, in Los Angeles, or lounging in some remote South American jungle . . . no, it was because everything he was meant to be had been torn away and Josh had been the one to rip it off.

  Why? That was the question. What had he hoped to accomplish? Somehow, Danny knew that Josh’s stunt was meant as a test and he was certain he would fail it.

  Back in 1988, on the first weekend that Danny spent in Los Angeles, Josh woke him up one morning to say they were taking a hike. Grabbing a basket containing a thermos of coffee, cups, a bottle of champagne and fresh croissants, Josh drove them a few miles from their tiny home and parked near the Griffith Observatory. Danny expected their destination would be the broad terraces and roofs of that iconic building that promised an expansive view of the city. Instead Josh said, “Follow me.”

  It was a brisk January morning coming after several days of winter rain. All dirt had been washed away, leaving nothing in the air to obscure the cleansing sun. In the unclouded Los Angeles light, every twig and grass blade appeared distinct and sharp. The hills stretched upward in a brilliant green. A variety of birds twittered in the bushes. The two started to walk up a dirt path, which was damp and packed solid by the recent rains. Since it was early in the morning, there were only a few cars parked nearby and Danny could see just a handful of other hikers on the paths—mostly a few solitary walkers with their dogs. Up ahead was the crest of a high hill, and the path they were on seemed to lead toward its peak.

  “Is that where we’re going?” Danny asked.

  “Yes,” Josh said, “we’re hiking to the top of Mount Hollywood, because I want to show you your new world.”

  He pulled out the thermos and two cups, poured some coffee and handed Danny a filled cup. “Take a look,” he said as he moved his arm to encompass the scene in front of them. Straight ahead was the copper dome of the observatory. Beyond and below stretched the streets and avenues of Los Angeles marching in straight lines toward the sea. “That hill in the distance,” he said, “is Palos Verdes and off to the side you can make out the towers of downtown Long Beach. We’re lucky that this morning is so clear. Look at it all.”

  And Danny discerned each of those locations, but in his imagination, he also envisioned trips back in time and across the ocean. Josh went on, “And in that direction is Hollywood. We can catch a good view of the famous sign from here. And over there are Beverly Hills and Westwood, and where you see the line of deeper blue that’s the ocean. In that direction, you’re looking at Santa Monica. I’ll take you there one day and we’ll ride the Ferris wheel on the pier so we can see even further. We’ll stare beyond the horizon.”

  It seemed magical, this landscape of fabled names. “Now turn in that direction.” Josh commanded.

  And Danny turned toward the east, where the early morning sun was still low and reflected off the tall towers of downtown Los Angeles. “That tall building under construction is Library Tower. When it opens it will be seventy-three stories high, the tallest building west of the Mississippi and the tallest building in the world topped with a helicopter pad. Wouldn’t it be something to fly and land there?”

  The towns of Thread and Lattigo seemed a distant memory. He made the right decision to move here and live with Josh. “When we get to the top of the mountain,” Josh promised, “we’ll open the champagne and the world will all be clear. Let’s go.”

  They began to walk, crossing the remnants of some old bridge, and then moving upward in a series of switchbacks, each offering new and interesting views. At one point, they passed an oasis of plantings, benches, and tables. There was a water trough, maybe for horses or dogs, and Danny remembered that honeybees were crawling on its edge to get to the water. “They call that Dante’s View. Some old guy comes up every day to water and tend it.” In giving his tour and providing commentary, Josh was happier than Danny had ever seen him.

  They rounded another bend, which opened up a view of the other side of the peak and hills. An entirely different cityscape spread before them. “There’s the Valley,” Josh said. “But no champagne yet.”

  Danny remembered how he started to tire, but Josh encouraged him to maintain a steady pace. Eventually they neared the top of the mountain where there was a viewing platform. “That’s where we’re headed,” Josh said.

  Once there, he removed the champagne bottle and two plastic cups. “We need to keep this hidden,” he said. “No alcohol allowed in public parks.” But he poured them each a glass.

  “Look around,” he commanded.

  In every direction, the world spread out in its glory. The Hollywood Hills and Santa Monica Mountains marched toward the west. To the east, the San Gabriel Mountains reached high into the sky with snow-peaked tops that defined the distance. The Los Angeles basin, the San Gabriel Valley, the San Fernando Valley, the ribbon of the concrete-controlled Los Angeles River, the distant plains of Orange County, the millions of people, the ships on the Pacific, and the industry of an entire world lay before them. It was awe-inspiring.

  Josh smiled. “We don’t need a helicopter to reach the top of a building to see the world. We did it ourselves by using our own two feet. There’s no better view than this from anywhere. Welcome to Los Angeles. Thank you for coming.”

  Josh tipped his glass and touched its plastic lip against Danny’s. They took a sip and then Josh leaned forward to kiss Danny’s lips. “I love you,” he said.

  Danny held back his tears. This was all that he had ever wanted—to be loved and to belong. The world was indeed a wondrous place, and he would revel in it from this day forward.

  Josh made a grand gesture to encompass the 360-degree view. “It’s all ours,” he said. “But it only became complete today. With you.”

  Was any of it true? Then or today?

  Danny was afraid that he would never know for sure.

  Barbara Linsky was not happy. “Why show me these files?” she asked.

  Danny had lured Orleans and her to Josh’s office hidden away on the bottom level of the mansion. He needed other people to know some of what he had discovered. Danny was looking at them both, wondering what they made of the various notes about the business. He was still keeping the recordings his secret.

  As always, Orleans seemed fully in control. But Danny had known her a long time. Flickers of emotion passed through her eyes, and she was displaying the nervous flipping of errant strands of hair and the clasping of her hands. She was not happy. He wondered what upset her the most: the hidden projects, the secret room, or the growing awareness that she knew so little about her boss.

  “These files could destroy everything that I’ve been working on, and you don’t want that to happen,” Barbara went on. “The sale with the Mexican media firm Actuades is so close. But give them the slightest whiff of scandal and they’ll rush back to Mexico City.
No matter how much they want a new media toehold in the United States, they won’t put up with this.”

  Danny no longer cared what Barbara Linsky wanted to see or not. The fact was that after Colby’s surprise resignation she had been named Chairman of the Board and the person in that role needed to know about Josh’s secret projects.

  Danny had spent a lot of time reviewing these files and trying to make sense of them. They frightened him, not just because they proved how little he knew Josh, but also because they demonstrated Premios’ role in planning an enormous crime.

  “We have to do something,” Danny said. He was calm. He accepted the weight of Josh’s transgressions. “It’s all clearly laid out in these flowcharts and planning documents. Josh was acting illegally, the way he commissioned various programming projects that on the surface seemed related to a distinct part of the business model, but were all building blocks for this person or team in Poland to assemble into ‘Project Big Stick.’”

  Danny wanted to be clear, concise, and thorough. He had spent too many hours trying to make sense of it all and he needed these two women to understand what seemed so clear.

  “Once complete, Big Stick was intended to be an automated way to insert malware into the computers of clients of Premios, suck back data from those clients—things like personal information, credit card data, and even work files—transfer that data into an off-site repository where the algorithms supposedly intended for making recommendations based on personal preferences would instead sift through mountains of information and detect usable data. In other words, they could access details to allow them to use funds, blackmail clients, and manipulate public interest.

  “The crazy thing is—even from reading all of this—I can’t tell if Josh even had a clear goal for how to use this stolen material. Sometimes I don’t even think it was all his idea, that maybe somebody else was forcing him to do these horrible things.”

  There he had said it. After a week of devouring and cross-referencing every file in the room, Danny had voiced the only explanation he could generate that might make sense of it all and still redeem Josh. The man might have his secrets, but at the same time, he had an inherent goodness, and if their years together were not an entire fiction, then Danny couldn’t let all those memories be transformed into lies. And the only way he could see to forgive Josh’s behavior was if Josh had been coerced or blackmailed.

  “You’re grasping at straws,” Orleans said tiredly.

  “What do you mean?” he demanded.

  Orleans stood up, walked toward the desk, and dropped the folder she had been reviewing. It landed atop a stack of well-thumbed documents. Small colored tags were attached to various pages where Danny had jotted notes or observations.

  “You refuse to see your boyfriend for who he really is.”

  Linsky didn’t say anything, but she observed both closely. Danny had no idea what the famed financial analyst thought of any of this.

  Finally Danny said, “I’ve known Josh longer than either of you.”

  Enigmatically Linsky replied, “Time can be its own mask.”

  “You love the man. I get that,” said Orleans. “But people wear different masks for different people. When Josh was with you, he always played the thoughtful, kind, and amusing person you wanted him to be. But when he was around other people, he became other things. Maybe he’s not the person you most want him to be.

  “When I first met him at the New Loon Town Café, he truly bowled me over . . . the way he read people so easily and always seemed to know what to say to win their attention. I envied that skill and I wanted it. I loved seeing him show me what was possible. In so many ways, Josh pushed me to be better.”

  Danny didn’t understand what point she was trying to make. “That’s what I love about him too.”

  “But there’s another side. He loves knowing things that other people want hidden. When I first started as the restaurant’s hostess and getting to know the frequent guests, Josh would often ask to have a drink together near the end of service. We would sit at the bar, and he’d order me a glass of champagne and ask about the night. He’d wait to hear whatever little bits of gossip I picked up, especially when it involved a guest with a public persona. Who were they with? What did they order? How did they behave? For the longest time, I was flattered by Josh’s attention. But gradually, I realized he was using me to find out what was going on. Fine, I thought, he’s the boss. That’s his prerogative. But he loved my stories too much, and he never forgot a detail.”

  “So why did you go to work for him when we started Premios?” Danny demanded.

  “Because he believed in me. He pushed me to get my MBA, and he listened. I knew I was talented and smart, and he saw that in me. Just like he saw your talents. Without him, do you think you would have accomplished nearly half of what you’ve done? He pushed you into writing. Don’t you realize how he fed you the best of his gossip so you could add flavor and scandal to your early blogs? That’s what drew readers, more than your descriptions about food or wine. He wanted you to succeed and he ensured it happened. Josh makes people bloom.”

  Linsky interrupted. “We’re running out of time, and while this is all very nice to hear, frankly, I don’t give a damn whether the man was a crook or a saint. He left us a problem and we have to deal with it.

  “Nothing more is to be sent to the man in Poland. There’s no reason to debate this, because we simply must sever our relationship with him immediately. And in a very quiet way. I can’t stress that enough. And, Danny, destroy these files. And we will march forward as though they never existed.”

  “Why?” Danny asked.

  “I really don’t care what motivated Josh to engineer this fiasco, whether someone forced him, or he’s some mad evil genius. It doesn’t matter. Bottom line, this is a crime scene, and Josh was about to break the law, or maybe he already did, but we’re stopping it in its tracks, minimizing the damage and getting out.”

  “Maybe we should inform the authorities,” ventured Orleans.

  “If you want to kiss Premios and your stock options good-bye, go ahead. And don’t involve an attorney. We need to maximize deniability. At this point, the sale to Actuades is virtually a done deal, as long as we keep the product from getting tainted. Make any of this public and Actuades will walk. Keep quiet, and we all pick up a few million as we let Premios go its own way.”

  Orleans was not so easily deterred. Danny suspected she saw Josh’s disappearance as giving her a chance to become the CEO of Premios, but that potential wouldn’t last long with new owners. She argued her case. “Things have turned around. Revenues are up. Premios could survive without a sale. We should stay private.”

  Linsky scoffed. “You’re the CFO. You know that’s not true. The company needs to be fed a significantly bigger investment if there’s any chance of growing it into what it wants to be. That was the whole purpose of an early IPO. To get the investment funds you need. The piddling advertising that’s shown up isn’t going to last, and even if it did, it’s insufficient to monetize the site. There are a lot of challenges for long-term viability. Only the kind of cash this Mexican media company offers Premios gives it a chance to weather the storm. As long as this shit’s around, that won’t happen.”

  They all looked at the pile of paper on the desk. Danny thought about how much work he had done trying to make sense of it all. In a way the documents were his only remaining link to the still-missing Josh. “So what are you recommending?”

  “We end it.” Her tone was no-nonsense. “You said you have the contact information for the overseas programmer. Send him his final payment and say it’s finished. Burn these files. But only Big Stick has to go. There’s nothing at Premios to suggest the various projects are connected, so if we let the legitimate ones go forward, they can benefit Premios; I might even invite one of you to speak about the preference engine at next year’s BLINK. It’s good tactics to deploy the smaller truths to hide larger disasters.”

&
nbsp; “What happens when Josh reappears?” Josh asked.

  Orleans murmured in response, “If he reappears.”

  Danny turned on her. “Why do you say that? Do you think he’s dead?”

  Orleans was not cowed. “Seriously, Danny, wouldn’t it be better if he were? Harsh as that sounds. And remember what’s happened to Chip and Oliver. Somehow their deaths have to be connected to this. Maybe you’re right, and maybe Josh is a pawn of something bigger. But we don’t need to know. We don’t want to know. If he was being used, Josh has probably already been killed. On the other hand, if he was the ringleader . . . well, then, we can only hope he’s realized his evil and killed himself, or at least disappeared forever. Look. He knew something was coming. He planned for it by setting up the durable power of attorney and selling that property.”

  Danny wouldn’t give up hope, as much as he vacillated between hating Josh and wanting him back. “And maybe he’s just waiting.”

  Linsky commented on that. “Maybe. But I hope not.”

  But Danny thought otherwise.

  He was the only one in the room who had listened to the final recording that Danny phoned in as part of his therapy tapes. The message was simple and direct.

  “Danny, I know you found these, and now you know the real me. And you may be calling me the devil, but don’t think it’s over yet. I still have to figure out just who you are.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  In Hiding

  Josh was bored. He never planned to spend so much time hiding out at the Wisconsin camp. Before he confronted Oliver, Josh hadn’t even planned out his follow-on steps. But maybe he always knew where he needed to go. After all, he used a fake identity and credit card to rent a van to head toward Oliver’s townhouse. After that messy event, the choice seemed clear. He simply drove north toward Thread, stopping at a grocery warehouse west of Green Bay to fill the van with everything he needed. He told himself the escape north was a short-term solution until he determined his long-term game. While he had solved one problem in protecting Danny’s future, he still grappled with an unquenchable thirst that would only be sated once he tapped into Danny’s true nature.