by E. R. Torre
“You look confused, Julie. Out of sorts. Would you like me to clarify something? Should I go over this once more?”
“…no...”
To this Octi let out a chuckle. Julie looked up.
“This…this is some kind of trick.”
“I’m afraid not,” Octi said. “I have to give it to you, Julie. What you did to my son...It was fantastic. I’ve never seen such incredible planning and execution. I'll be damned if I wasn't impressed. You made Robert look like the rank amateur he is. If everything had worked out, there’s no doubt you would have easily –easily– replaced him on our board.”
The skin on Julie’s face was bone white.
“Robert’s gone now, of course,” Octi continued. “Given his failures and…well, once word got out about this situation, no one would respect him anymore. You can’t do business with someone like that. It’s a real shame I had to get rid of my own flesh and blood, but with this latest fuck up, he really gave me no choice.”
“You…you killed him?”
“Hell no. I fired him. I’m certain other companies will be interested in picking him up and mining him for information on our operations, but I doubt they’ll rely on what he has to say all that much. A loser will always be a loser.”
Octi shook his head. Such a shame.
“Anyway,” Octi said. “As of an hour ago, that's old news, and I’m not one to dwell on nostalgia. So tell me, Julie, where is Lemner's passkey?”
“I had it—”
“Come on, Julie. Where is it?”
Julie sat in the chair before Octi’s desk. She shook her head.
“I was…I was planning to bring it to you this morning.”
Octi let out a laugh.
“Don’t bullshit me. You were going to keep that program to yourself. What was the first thing you planned to do with it? Get the goods on me? Use it to get me taken off the board?”
“No, it was nothing like—”
“Where is it?!”
“Please, Robert, I—”
“Where. Is. It?”
“Someone stole it from my office.”
“Who?”
“Nagel. It had to be. He's the only one that knew.”
Octi sighed.
“He’s dead, Julie.”
“We need to search his house, his car, any place he’s been! The disks will turn up. They have to!”
“Oh yeah, that’s just what this company needs. Another wild goose chase.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry, Julie. We’ll have some staff –a small, easy to hide staff– search Nagel's home and office. Maybe we'll get lucky and Lemner’s passkey will turn up. On the other hand, Robert always bragged about how clever Nagel was. He was the brains of that outfit, you know. My son was the one with all the stupid ideas. Nagel implemented them. I have no doubt Nagel was clever enough to hide his treasure where it can’t be found.”
“What about us,” Julie said. “What about...what about me?”
“You're through, Julie. You meddled too much in my personal business. I can't forgive your failures, just like I couldn't forgive my son's. For all your scheming and all your dirty little tricks, you failed. The Lemner venture is over as far as I’m concerned. Get the hell out of here. Now.”
Tears, genuine tears, formed in Julie’s eyes. She rose, but her legs could barely hold her weight. She stumbled to the door leading out of the office.
“Julie,” Octi said when she opened the door.
Julie stopped and faced her former boss, lover, and father-in-law.
“My son's out there somewhere. He’ll be looking for you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
With each passing minute, Catherine’s confidence in successfully cracking into the GCN grew. The screen before her flickered and flashed with bits of information, text, and graphics. Some lasted only seconds, while others forced her to pause and examine subroutines and arcane security measures.
After four straight hours of work, she leaned back in her chair and let out a satisfied grunt.
“Nox.”
Nox was instantly at Catherine’s side. The Mechanic stared at the information on Catherine’s monitor.
“I’ve managed a small, superficial entry, not unlike poking a needle into a whale’s belly,” Catherine said. “But from here, we can watch the data stream pass by. Bank transactions, news, emails, streaming videos and music, and porn. Lots and lots of porn.”
“Can you add an entry?”
“Depends. What and where?”
“The police networks,” Nox said. She unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to Catherine. “I want this addendum leaked to all the news networks.”
Catherine read the note and whistled.
“Whoa,” she said. “I’m a damned good computer jockey, if I do say so myself, but if I try anything like what you’re asking me to do, we will be discovered. Five minutes after that, the police’ll break through the bar’s door, and they won’t be here to enjoy the questionable pleasures of our live band.”
“You can do it.”
“I wish I shared your optimism, Nox. We can put out spam or virtual graffiti, but there’s no way I can mimic a legitimate police report.”
“You can,” Nox insisted. “You just need the right tools.”
Nox pulled the package of diskettes she robbed from Julie earlier in the morning. Catherine frowned at the obvious age of this material.
“What the hell is this?”
“Your ticket inside the GCN.”
“These things are ancient. How do you figure still work?”
“We won’t know until we try.”
“You mean I won’t know,” Catherine said and winked. “Let’s see if I have a disk drive for these relics.”
Catherine searched through several cabinets before finding the proper disk drive that handled the old disks. She plugged the drive into her computer and hit a series of buttons.
“The drive works,” she said. “Now let’s see if the disks do as well.”
Catherine inserted the diskettes into the drive. After a few seconds her computer screen went blank, and seconds later instructions on entering the government network appeared.
“Holy shit.”
Catherine pressed several keys and examined the information before her.
“What is this, Nox?”
“What do you think?”
“It’s…it’s some kind of a back door entry key. Like…like…” Catherine let out a gasp. “No fucking way. Is this…is this Lemner’s passkey?”
She faced Nox. Her eyes were wide open and her breath heavy.
“Where did you get this?”
“Can you do what I’m asking?”
“Are you kidding?” Catherine said. It was hard for her to contain her growing wonder and delight. “But, Nox, what you’re asking for is…it’s nothing. With this program we could do anything we wanted! We could skim money from any bank. We could get legit deeds for any number of properties. We could infiltrate all the industries and make off with their most well-guarded secrets! We could, we could—”
“Rule the world,” Nox said. “I've heard it all before and I’m still not interested. That program cost many good people their lives. It almost cost me mine.” Nox pointed to the piece of paper she handed to Catherine moments before.
“Just get that addendum into the proper channels,” Nox said. “That’s all I want.”
Catherine nodded. A warm smile formed on her face.
“Snowflakes in August,” she said.
“What?”
“Looks like there are some good people left in this world.”
Static filled the television screen, followed by the image of a handsome young television reporter. He smiled and read from the teleprompter.
“…in business news, the Stock Markets have turned bullish, with the top ten major companies reporting strong earnings. Ironically, the one company that has not benefited from this increased prosperity is
the once golden Octi Corporation.”
The news anchor faced another camera. Serious reporting required a closer shot.
“In a stunning development, new evidence submitted to the police has cleared Claire Donovan, wife of murdered industrialist Jason Donovan, of her husband’s death. This new evidence, still under seal within the Big City’s Police Department, points to responsibility for the industrialist’s death on Octi C.E.O. Robert Octi Senior.”
The image of the television reporter was replaced with footage from in front of Octi Plaza. Several police officers led a handcuffed Robert Octi Senior out of his building and into a waiting police car. The elderly executive’s face was both indignant yet defeated. He knew there was no way to undo the damage of this broadcast.
He knew he was done.
“Reacting to this shocking news, the board of Octi Corp. convened an emergency session within the past hour,” the reporter continued. “It has been confirmed that they have unanimously ousted Robert Octi Senior from his own company. Board members are currently voting on a replacement. In another shocking twist, Robert Octi Senior’s son, Robert Octi Junior, once groomed for this job, is no longer a member of the company and could not be reached for comment.”
The police car carrying Robert Octi Senior drove away, and the image on the screen cut to the reporter in the studio. His right hand came up to his ear.
“I’m receiving word that the board of Octi Corp. just concluded their latest vote. Cindy Patterson is standing by just outside the boardroom…”
The image on the screen changed once more. Standing before the door leading into the Octi Corp. boardroom was another television reporter. She eyed the camera and said:
“This is Cindy Patterson, reporting from within Octi Corporation. I am able to confirm…”
The door beside her opened and Charles Lambert stepped outside. Beside him was Brinkman, and closely behind the two were the rest of the board. Brinkman’s smile was a mile wide as he stepped before Lambert and patted him on the shoulder. He then faced the television cameras and said:
“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the new C.E.O. of Octi Corporation.”
The rest of the board members let out a loud applause.
“We value your leadership and have faith in you,” Brinkman continued. “And let me just add, we’re with you all the way.”
Lambert acknowledged the complements by shaking the man’s hand. The applause from the other board members grew.
Lambert took in the adulation for an appropriate amount of time before motioning his board to quiet down.
“It’s a new day for Octi Corporation,” Lambert told the crowd around him. “I promise I will make you proud. Even more importantly, I promise to make you rich. Very, very rich.”
Laughter and more applause.
Lambert waved to his board before walking to Cindy Patterson’s side. He offered her, and the television camera, a triumphant yet serious smile.
“Hello, Cindy,” Lambert said.
“Congratulations, on your appointment, Mr. Lambert.”
“Thank you.”
“May we ask a few questions?”
“Certainly.”
“Mr. Lambert, Octi Corp. has taken what can only be described as some serious hits these past few weeks. What words of encouragement can you offer your investors in these tough times?”
Lambert took a few seconds to consider the question, as if grappling for a significant enough answer.
“Let me be clear: Change is coming,” Lambert finally said. “The old ways of doing business are over but we can –we will– right this ship.”
“How?”
“We’ve initiated a top to bottom review of all our research and technical properties. We expected to find plenty of waste, and have already dealt with much of it. But we’ve also found some diamonds in the rough; projects we feel will help Octi Corp. rise from the ashes.”
“Can you offer our viewers any preview of these so-called diamonds in the rough?”
“Well, many of these projects are top secret,” Lambert began. “But there is one I think will make a definite impact in the very short term.”
“Sounds exciting. Can you tell us more?”
Lambert nodded. He stared directly into the cameras.
“Within the next few days, Octi Corp. will unveil the next generation of automated robotic security. Frankly, I was surprised to find the previous regime so casually discarded such a sophisticated, fearsome machine. Next week, we’re going to formally unveil her and you’re all invited for the test run.” Lambert offered the cameras his brightest smile yet. “I want a big crowd around to see what this baby is capable of.”
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Nox strolled on the wooden pier. The day was bright and the sun was dazzling in the cloudless sky.
Nox held Lemner’s diskettes and tossed them, one after the other, into the salty water before her. They would be quickly lost in the mud and filth. Within an hour or two, the information stored on them would corrode in the polluted, acidic sea, along with the dreams of all would-be tyrants.
When she was done ridding the world of Lemner’s passkey, Nox continued her walk and eventually reached her destination. It was the Shoreline Choppers, a repair and reconditioning garage. Like all the structures on the boardwalk, it was a rusted warehouse. Its front doors were wide open and Nox gazed within. A couple of grease monkeys worked on her beat up motorcycle.
They told Nox they’d get the motorcycle back in shape in another week or two. They couldn’t promise any miracles, but Nox’s chopper, even on the best of days, was never all that good to begin with. Nox didn’t care. As long as the cycle started after a few tries and took the Mechanic where she needed to go, it was all she could ask for.
A smile filled Nox’s battered face.
She looked forward to taking that ride.
THE END
