Paranoia (43 page)

“What do you mean, ‘guaranteed’ myself a prison sentence?”

“—And then, just to feed your insane ambition, here you are, fucking over the one guy in corporate America who ever gave you a chance.”

“Thanks,” I said bitterly, knowing he was right.

“You pretty much deserve what you get.”

“I appreciate the help and moral support, friend.”

“Put it this way, Adam—I may be a pathetic loser in your eyes, but at least I came by my loserdom honestly. What are you? You’re a total fraud. You’re fucking
Rosie Ruiz
.”

“Huh?”

“She won the Boston Marathon like twenty years ago, set a women’s record, remember? Barely broke a sweat. Turned out she’d jumped in half a mile from the finish line. Took the fucking
subway
to get there. That’s you, man. The Rosie Ruiz of corporate America.”

I sat there, my face growing redder and hotter, feeling more and more miserable. Finally I said, “Are you done yet?”

“For now, yeah.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I need your help.”

78

I’d never been to the law firm where Seth worked, or pretended to work. It took up four floors in one of those downtown skyscrapers, and it had all the trappings people want in a high-end law firm—mahogany paneling, expensive Aubusson carpets, modern art on giant canvases, lots of glass.

He got us an appointment first thing in the morning with his boss, a senior partner named Howard Shapiro who specialized in criminal defense work and used to be a U.S. Attorney. Shapiro was a short, chubby guy, balding, round black glasses, a high voice and rapid-fire delivery, frenetic energy. He kept interrupting me, prodding me to get my story over with, looking at his watch. He took notes on a yellow pad. Once in a while he gave me wary, puzzled looks, as if he was trying to figure something out, but for the most part he didn’t react. Seth, who was on good behavior, mostly sat there watching.

“Who beat you up?” Shapiro said.

“His security guys.”

He made a note. “When you told him you were pulling out?”

“Before. I stopped returning their calls and e-mails.”

“Teach you a lesson, huh?”

“I guess.”

“Let me ask you something. Give me an honest answer. Say you get Wyatt what he wants, the chip or whatever it is. You don’t think he’ll leave you alone?”

“I doubt it.”

“You think they’re going to keep pushing you?”

“Probably.”

“You’re not afraid this whole thing might blow up in your face and you’ll be left holding the bag?”

“I’ve thought about it. I know the folks at Trion are mighty pissed off their acquisition fell through. There’ll probably be some sort of an investigation, and who knows what’ll happen.”

“Well, I got more bad news for you, Adam. I hate to tell you, but you’re a tool.”

Seth smiled.

“I know that.”

“It means you have to strike first, or you’re hosed.”

“How?”

“Say this thing blows up and you’re caught. Not unlikely. You throw yourself on the mercy of the court without cooperating, and you’re going to go to jail, simple as that. Guarantee it.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. Seth winced.

“Then I’d cooperate.”

“Too late. No one’s going to cut you any slack. Also, the only proof against Wyatt is
you
—but there’ll be lots of proof against you, I bet.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Either they find you, or you find them. I’ve got a buddy in the U.S. Attorney’s office, guy I trust. Wyatt’s a big fish. You can serve him up on a silver platter. They’ll be very interested.”

“How do I know they won’t arrest me, throw me in jail too?”

“I’ll make a proffer. Call him up, tell him I’ve got something I think he might be interested in. I’ll say, I’m not going to give you any names. If you’re not going to work out a deal with my guy, you’re not going to see him. You want to deal, you give him a queen for a day.”

“What’s a ‘queen for a day’?”

“We go in, sit down with the prosecutor and an agent. Anything that’s said in that meeting cannot be directly used against you.”

I looked at Seth, raised my eyebrows, and turned back to Shapiro. “Are you saying I could get off?”

Shapiro shook his head. “With that little prank you pulled at Wyatt, the loading-dock guy’s retirement party, we’ll have to fashion a guilty plea to something. You’re a dirty witness, the prosecutor’s going to have to show you didn’t get off scot-free. You won’t get a total pass.”

“More than a misdemeanor?”

“Could be probation, to probation and a felony, to a felony and six months.”

“Prison,” I said.

Shapiro nodded.

“If they’re willing to deal,” I said.

“Correct. Look, you’re in a shitstorm of trouble, let’s speak frankly. The Economic Espionage Act of 1996 made the theft of trade secrets a federal criminal offense. You could get ten years in prison.”

“What about Wyatt?”

“If they catch him? Under the Federal Sentencing Guidelines, a judge has to take into account the defendant’s role in the offense. If you’re a ringleader, the offense level is increased by two levels.”

“So they’ll hit him harder.”

“Right. Also, you didn’t personally benefit materially from the espionage, right?”

“Right,” I said. “I mean, I did get paid.”

“You just got your Trion salary, which was for the work you did for Trion.”

I hesitated. “Well, Wyatt’s people continued to pay me, into a secret bank account.”

Shapiro stared at me.

“That’s bad, right?” I said.

“That’s bad,” he said.

“No wonder they agreed to it so easily,” I groaned, more to myself than to him.

“Yeah,” Shapiro said. “You put the hook in yourself. So, you want me to make the call or no?”

I looked at Seth, who nodded. There didn’t seem to be any other choice.

“Why don’t you guys wait outside,” Shapiro said.

79

We sat in the waiting area outside his office, silent. My nerves were stretched to the breaking point. I called my office and asked Jocelyn to reschedule a couple of appointments.

Then I sat there for a few minutes, just thinking. “You know,” I said, “the worst thing about it is, I gave Wyatt the keys so he could rob us blind. He’s already derailed our big acquisition, and now he’s going to fuck us over totally—and it’s all my fault.”

Seth stared at me for a long while. “Who’s ‘us’?”

“Trion.”

He shook his head. “You’re not Trion. You keep saying ‘we’ and ‘us’ when you talk about Trion.”

“Slip of the tongue,” I said.

“I don’t think so. I want you to take a bar of whatever ten-dollar French-milled soap you use now and write on your bathroom mirror, ‘I am not Trion, and Trion is not me.’”

“Enough,” I said. “You’re sounding like my dad now.”

“Ever occur to you maybe your dad wasn’t wrong about everything? Like a stopped clock’s right twice a day, huh?”

“Fuck you.”

Then the door opened and Howard Shapiro was standing there. “Sit down,” he said.

I could tell from his face that things hadn’t gone well. “What’d your buddy say?” I asked.

“My buddy got transferred to Main Justice. His replacement is a real prick.”

“How bad?” I asked.

“He said, ‘You know what, you take a plea and we’ll see what happens.’”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you take a guilty plea in chambers, and no one will know about it.”

“I don’t get it.”

“If you give him a great case, he’s willing to write you a great Five-K. A Five-K is a letter the prosecutor writes to the judge asking him to depart from the sentencing guidelines.”

“Does the judge have to do what the prosecutor wants?”

“Of course not. Also, there’s no guarantee this prick will really write you a decent Five-K. Be honest, I don’t trust him.”

“What’s his definition of a ‘great case’?” asked Seth.

“He wants Adam to make an introduction of an undercover.”

“An undercover
agent?
” I said. “That’s
insane!
Wyatt’ll never go for it. He won’t meet with anyone but me. He’s not an idiot.”

“What about wearing a wire?” Seth asked. “Would he agree to that?”

“
I
won’t agree to that,” I said. “I get scanned for electronic devices every time I’m in Wyatt’s presence. I’d get caught for sure.”

“That’s all right,” said Shapiro. “Our friend in the U.S. attorney’s office won’t agree to it anyway. The only way he’ll play ball is if you introduce an undercover.”

“I won’t do it,” I said. “He’ll never go for it. And what guarantee is there that I won’t get jail time even if I do?”

“None,” Shapiro admitted. “No federal prosecutor is going to give you a one-hundred-percent promise that a judge’ll give you probation. The judge may not go for it. But whatever you decide, he’s giving you seventy-two hours to make up your mind.”

“Or what?”

“Or the chips fall where they may. He’ll never give you queen for a day if you don’t play by his rules. Look, they don’t trust you. They don’t think you can do this on your own. And face it, it’s their ball.”

“I don’t need seventy-two hours,” I said. “I’ve already decided. I’m not playing.”

Shapiro looked at me strangely. “You’re going to keep working for Wyatt.”

“No,” I said. “I’m going to handle this my own way.”

Now Shapiro smiled. “How so?”

“I want to set my own terms.”

“How so?” Shapiro said.

“Let’s say I get some really concrete evidence against Wyatt,” I said. “Serious, hard-core proof of his criminality. Could we take that directly to the FBI and make a better deal?”

“Theoretically, sure.”

“Good,” I said. “I think I want to do this myself. The only one who’s going to get me out of this is me.”

Seth half-smiled, reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. “‘Me’ meaning ‘me,’ or ‘me’ meaning ‘we’?”

80

I got an e-mail from Alana saying that she was back, her trip to Palo Alto had been cut short—she didn’t explain, but I knew why—and she’d love to see me. I called her at home, and we talked a while about the funeral, and how I was doing, and all that. I told her I didn’t much feel like talking about Dad, and then she said, “Are you aware you’re in serious trouble with HR?”

My breath stopped. “Am I?”

“Oh, boy. Trion’s Personnel Policy Manual expressly forbids workplace romances. Inappropriate sexual behavior in the workplace harms organizational effectiveness through its negative impact on participants and co-workers.”

I let my breath out slowly. “You’re not in my management chain. Anyway, I felt that we were organizationally quite effective. And I thought our sexual behavior was quite appropriate. We were practicing horizontal integration.” She laughed, and I said, “I know that neither one of us has time, but don’t you think we’ll be better Trion employees if we take off a night? I mean really get out of town. Be spontaneous.”

“That sounds intriguing,” she said. “Yes, I think that could definitely boost productivity.”

“Good. I booked a room for us tomorrow night.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

“Uh-uh. Tell me where,” she said.

“Nope. It’ll be a surprise. As our fearless leader likes to say, sometimes you just gotta get in the car.”

She picked me up in her blue Mazda Miata convertible, drove us out to the country while I gave directions. In the silences I obsessed about what I was about to do. I was into her, and this was a problem. Here I was, using her to try to save my own skin. I was
so
going to hell.

The drive took forty-five minutes, on a stop-and-go road past a parade of identical shopping malls and gas stations and fast-food places, and then a narrow and very winding road through woods. At one point she peered at me, noticed the bruise around my eye, said, “What happened? You get into a fight?”

“Basketball,” I said.

“I thought you weren’t going to play with Chad anymore.”

I smiled, didn’t say anything.

Finally we came to a big, rambling country inn, white clapboard with dark green shutters. The air was cool and fragrant, and you could hear birds chirping, and no traffic.

“Hey,” she said, removing her sunglasses. “Nice. This place is supposed to be excellent.”

I nodded.

“You take all your girlfriends here?”

“Never been here before,” I said. “I read about it, and it seemed like the perfect getaway.” I put my arm around her narrow waist and gave her a kiss. “Let me get your bags.”

“Just one,” she said. “I travel light.”

I took our bags up to the front door. Inside it smelled of wood fires and maple syrup. The couple who owned and ran the place greeted us like old friends.

Our room was sweet, very country-inn. There was an enormous four-poster bed with a canopy, braided throw rugs, chintz curtains. The bed faced a huge old brick fireplace that clearly got a lot of use. The furnishings were all antiques, the rickety kind that make me nervous. There was a captain’s chest at the foot of the bed. The bathroom was enormous, with an old iron clawfoot tub in the middle of the room—the kind that looks great, but if you want to take a shower you have to stand in the tub with a little handheld shower thing and spray yourself the way you wash a dog, and try not to splash water all over the floor. The bathroom was connected to a little sitting area off the bedroom furnished with an oak desk and an old telephone on a rickety telephone table.

The bed squeaked and groaned, as we found out when we both plopped down on it after the innkeeper had left. “God, imagine what this bed has seen,” I said.

“A lot of chintz,” Alana said. “Reminds me of my grandmother’s house.”

“Is your grandmother’s house as big as this place?”

She nodded once. “This is cozy. Great idea, Adam.” She slipped a cool hand under my shirt, stroked my stomach, and then moved south. “What were you saying about horizontal integration?”

A roaring fire was going in the dining room when we came down for dinner. There were maybe ten or twelve other couples already seated at the tables, mostly older than us.