1 Manic Monday (6 page)

He sat down at the terminal, the glass of milk at his
side.  He navigated the Darius intranet, wondering if their security
protocols were as lazy and uninteresting as their public site.  He stopped
when he got to the daily memos. 

Jake could see entire conversations.  There were
perhaps hundreds of thousands of megabytes of files and files inside of
files.  He had simply clicked on a folder that was marked
"Trash."  Evidently, it was a repository for everyone's deleted
files.

He opened the first document he found.  It was like
panning for gold and he just found the mother lode.

He stared at the letter, reading it and not fully believing
what he saw. 

Calvin,

We will only work with Galbraith if they can get Mr.
Monday to take the assignment to eliminate Ms.
Chaput
. 
You claim that he is the best they have to offer.  We cannot afford to
have her to continue to meddle with our affairs.

We can no longer tolerate Sinegem bullying us.  We
need to send a statement.  Get a meeting together with Lars as soon as you
can. 

Your father has helped us before.  I trust his
loyalty to our cause will be sufficient for him to see our plight.  I am
counting on you. Darius is counting on you.  Make this happen and we can
finally make your promotion official.

--T

Jake was stunned.  He had no idea that Lars had a
child.  That would mean that someone had slept with him.  The
prospect of that was both repulsive and incredible.

From the correspondence, Jake had to assume that Galbraith
had aided them before.  Something told him it was for more than just some
routine accounting work. 

But, why were they demanding that he be the one who pulled
the plug?  And was Giselle really that annoying?  Surely, they could
just pen a strongly worded letter to Sinegem threatening a lawsuit,
right?  And, why were they protecting their company so vehemently? 

Jake was sure that if he dug any further, he would be amazed
at the secrets he could unveil.  His luck in finding this correspondence
so quickly was certainly evidence that Darius had more skeletons in its closet
than Newt Gingrich.

He sat back, exiting the company intranet site.  He was
sure he would not be able to sleep tonight.

Jake got up from his desk and poured another glass of milk
from the refrigerator.  Unlike many bachelors, he had never developed the
habit of drinking straight from the carton.  He stared at the glass, the
milk an opaque swirl, a bubble popping to the surface.

He was good at avoiding the difficult questions in his
life.  He could not stand to reflect too much.  He could not abide
self-doubt.  As he stood there in the kitchen, his feet cold on the marble
floor, he wished that he could go home. 

Where ever that was.

All That Glitters

Gary pushed his glasses back up on his nose.  Jake knew
he had struck a nerve.  Gary was the closest thing he had to a friend, but
his access to information was Jake's key to getting what he wanted.  Jake
would punch him around if needed.  He hoped that it would not come to
that.  It would hardly be fair.

"So, you think Lars dreamed up that Russian excursion
for the company's benefit while scheduling this side trip?"

"I am sure of it," Jake replied.

"I don't know, Jake.  It doesn't make sense. 
Sinegem is one of our clients.  Why would Lars authorize a hit on one of
their corporate spies?"

"I have no idea," Jake lied.  "I was
hoping you would know. 
Any information on Darius that
would indicate that they would resort to violence?"

Gary shrugged.  He was dressed in his Sunday leisure
outfit: loafers, faded jeans, white t-shirt and a button-up sweater.  He
looked like he had just walked off the set of “Leave It to Beaver.”

"Your usual stuff.
 
Typical corporate greed:  mafia connections, price hikes, bribing state
corporation commissioners, cooked books,
ten
cent
overcharge per customer every month on average.  Of course those audits
are third party and unpublished.  Other than that, they have had three
lay-offs in the last four years while the CEO, the board, and the executive
officers have received pay increases and bonuses.  Welcome to America,
right?"  Gary picked at his sweater absently and crossed his feet.

"So, then two other questions come up.  Why does
Sinegem want to buy them out so badly? And, why does Darius want to resort to
violence to keep their business?  What is so important?" Jake asked.

"Perhaps it is something with their R&D
department.  Darius has been granted half a billion dollars in federal
funds to develop new fuel substitutes."

"Half a billion dollars?"
 
Money was a foreign substance to Jake. When he needed it, he had it. He did not
try to accumulate it and thought little of it other than to buy things. 
When words like billions came into play, it changed the perspective.

"Oh, did I not mention the government
lobbyists?"  Gary asked.  He smirked.

Jake scoffed.

"Have they discovered something that Sinegem wants,
maybe?"

"I don't know.  It would be a good question to ask
them," Gary responded.

"
Which begs another question.
"

"You mean why are we meeting Darius personnel on
Galbraith property if we are supposed to be in Russia?" Gary asked. 

"Exactly."

Gary shook his head.  His face was drained of color.

"Look, I don't feel comfortable thinking about what we
are getting into.  I need this job and all, but I like my life.  I
don't have some sick death wish like you do," Gary said.

"What do you mean?"

Gary tried to avoid his eyes.  He got off the couch and
crossed to the bar separating his living room from his kitchen.  He had
his back to Jake.

"You know.  Lately, you seem to be taking more
risks than when I first met you.  It's not like you are losing your
skills, it is like you are trying to find your limits. I don't know. 
Maybe I am just scared is
all.
"

Jake was touched by Gary's compassion.

"Are you scared of getting fired?"  Jake
asked.

Gary smirked.  He shrugged.

"Not really," Gary said.  He took a drink
from a large glass of orange liquid.  Jake suspected it was a Mimosa.

"When did we become detectives, Jake?  I thought
our jobs were simple.  I do all the tech stuff to make what you do
possible and you do what you do. 
Simple.
 
Bing, bam, thank you ma'am."

Jake turned and looked out onto Gary's terrace.  His
apartment wasn't as modern as Jake's but it had a certain charm and a great
location.  The furnishings were simple but expensive.  For all his
technical savvy and his youthful interests, it seemed Gary had an old soul.

"Maybe our jobs just became more complicated.  It
isn't our fault our boss is moonlighting our services to the enemy.  We
have to decide who we work for: Lars or Galbraith."

"Those are awful choices, Jake."

"That is the world in which we live, Gary.  We
need to stick together, though.  Can I trust you to back me up?"

"Of course you can."

Jake wanted to trust Gary.  His gut told him that it
would never be possible.  Gary had a second sense when it came to
self-preservation.  If push came to shove, he would betray Jake. 
Jake did not hold that against him, but at the same time, he knew to be
cautious.

"Good.  Then I propose we play along as far as we
can.  We go through the motions, take the assignment, do our jobs, and see
how we can muck things up to get the best effect."

"See? That's exactly what I was talking about,"
Gary complained.  He pointed to Jake with his glass.  A little
dribbled out onto the carpet.  Gary was still a little tipsy from last
night, Jake thought.

"If we take a risk now or refuse the job, then we tip
our hand.  The connection between Lars and Darius cannot be exposed
yet.  We don't have hard proof," said Jake.

"When has that ever been a requirement?  There is
no Supreme Court, no jury.  It goes to the top, and heads roll,
regardless.  No one is immune, including the whistle-blower."

"Exactly.
  They are as
likely to persecute the messenger as they are to heed the message.  We're
better off waiting for someone to get caught in public with their hand in the
cookie jar."

Gary frowned.

"How are we supposed to do that?" Gary asked.

"We are in dangerous territory either way, but
technically, Sinegem has not fired Galbraith yet.  Maybe I can seduce
Giselle into convincing Sinegem into firing Galbraith on grounds of breach of
contract."

"
You
seduce Giselle?  Don't you mean the
other way around?  She is too much woman for even you."

Jake smiled at that.  Gary was not wrong.

"I trust you had a good time after I left?"

"She talked about you all night.  She wanted to
know if you were really a killer for hire."

"She doesn't believe I could be?"

"Most people don't, Jake.  That is why you are so
good at it."

He had not thought of that before.

"Interesting," Jake replied.

Gary finished his drink and sat back on the couch.  He
looked defeated. 
Deflated.
 
Desensitized.

"So, you think that we should go along with Lars' plans
without questioning him.  Don't you think he will find that
suspicious?"

"We can make it sound as though we understand what his
motivations are.  Perhaps we should ask for a cut of his take."

"With what you make, he will just laugh at you. 
You have no room for greed."

"Unless I want to own Galbraith
itself, right?"

Gary laughed.

"So, what's in it for the Director?  Why is he
taking these risks running an operation against a client right under Mr.
Galbraith's nose?"

"It certainly isn't for money.  Like you said, we
are compensated well enough to extinguish all but the most avaricious.  I
understand that Lars has a son and that he is his contact within Darius. 
He must have a special bond with him," Jake surmised.

"A son?
  I did not know
that.  This changes things.  Where did you get this
information?"

“I have my sources.  You never tell me where you get
yours, so we’re even,” Jake said.

“Fine.
What do you know?”

"I know he went to the University of Connecticut to
study civil engineering.  I know he was raised by his mother in upstate
New York, know he was hired by Darius three years ago, and that is about
it.  I have tax returns, cell phone records, and Christmas card
lists.  Nothing points back to Lars.  He supposedly hasn't seen the
young man since he was five."

"That doesn't make any sense.  Why would he cover
up his own son’s existence?" Gary pondered.

Jake shrugged.

"We know the contact exists, we just don't know the
form.  It doesn't matter.  The best idea for us is to protect the
interests of our employer.  In the process, we can save our own hides,”
Jake explained.

"So, you expose this to Galbraith who in turn blows the
whistle as if they provided the information.  That could work.  The
only thing is…"

"You don't trust the whole team," Jake
interjected.

Gary looked at him, his face set.

"Violet has it out for you, man.  You embarrassed
her.  That doesn't set well.  As communications director and liaison
to Lars, she is in a position to hack your plan to pieces."

"It's a chance we will have to take.  Besides,
Violet isn't the only one we have to worry about trusting."

"Sam?"

"No. 
Giselle."

The Alright Corral

As Jake
strolled
the hallways of
the fiftieth floor, he imagined an old Western soundtrack playing.  He
dreamed for a moment that he was wearing chaps and spurs, boots and a
six-shooter.  He had long sideburns and a droopy mustache.  He had
not bathed in days and his sweaty Stetson was askew on his head, rakishly
covering one eye.

He could not help feeling like this would be a
showdown.  Jake realized the irony of an assassin feeling that he was
taking the moral high ground.  Of course, to do so, he had to be deceptive
and disingenuous.  What were some creative lies in comparison to murder
and corporate greed?

In his eyes, he was entering this meeting wearing the white,
but somewhat sullied hat.  The Darius brass would be wearing dark black
Irish bowlers, three-piece suits with ascots, and monocles.  Lars would be
wearing a black cowboy hat and smoking one of his disgusting cigars.

His heart was calmer than he had expected.  He normally
was pretty cool, but this meeting unnerved him.  He understood the power
and the corruption that Galbraith represented.  Mr. Galbraith was publicly
a philanthropic and socially conscience billionaire.  However, the Para
Contra branch of the Galbraith Alliance had a mission statement of
bella
omnium
contra
omnes
, meaning,
"
war of
all against all."  This reflected Zeke Galbraith's philosophy in a
nutshell. For such an international outfit, this was certainly a cowboy
mentality.  Of course, some of the best westerns ever were directed by
Italians.

Jake did not mistake this philosophy for a carte blanche in
regards to betraying allies or misusing corporate funds to pursue personal
vendettas.  This would especially be true of projects that were in direct
conflict with current customers.  His participation would be interpreted
as complicity.  He was gambling that this would work. Failure meant
certain death.  Cement shoes, a particularly Russian form of roulette,
death by torture, or worse.