The Devil's Analyst (8 page)

“Like an economic version of Schrödinger’s cat, I suppose,” Chip suggested.

“Exactly,” said Barbara. “Today’s economy is as wild as any spinning electron. So here’s my question. Does it act like an old-fashioned particle that we know how to explain so well? Or does it operate under rules of some newly discovered wave theory, one of those ideas that changes everything? Surely it can’t be both, or can it?

“Think about it. On one hand, we value a firm based on old-fashioned ideas like profit and return. On the other, we imagine a whole new value system, and we extol the company’s power to be disruptive or create radical new financial worlds. Which mindset is right? Or should we think two things at the same time?”

Chip smiled in appreciation, “Well, if we compare it to the Schrödinger’s cat thought experiment, then the value will become one or the other if we actually look too closely. And if we do that, we might kill the golden goose. We wouldn’t want to do that, now would we?”

Barbara laughed in appreciation.

“I thought it was a cat,” said Josh, annoyed that he hadn’t the slightest idea what the two of them were talking about. He was also irked that Danny seemed interested. Over a decade living together, the guy never failed to surprise him. Whenever Orleans tried to explain the financing rounds that were about to make him millions, Danny’s eyes always glazed over. Now some talk about dead cats captivated him.

Barbara sensed Josh’s discomfort and played the good guest. “It’s simple really. We’re referring to an often-discussed problem with quantum mechanics that states something might simultaneously exist in two states, acting both as a particle and a wave. Years ago a physicist named Erwin Schrödinger imagined a hypothetical sealed box that contained a cat, a bottle of poison and a source of radiation. At some point, the radiation could emit particles that would cause the poison to break open and kill the cat.

“But since the box is sealed, and you can’t see inside, in a sense it can be said the cat is both alive and dead at the same time. Only if you open and inspect the box, do you ensure that it’s one or another. Perhaps the same is true of quantum systems. The act of observation fixes it as one or the other. But until one looks, the cat can be thought of as both, and indeed will act as though it’s in both states at the very same time. It’s a dilemma of modern science.”

Josh wasn’t sure he followed their explanation, “That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

But Danny was intrigued. “It’s sort of like that old riddle. If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear or see it, did the tree really fall? Like do we exist only because someone sees us?”

Barbara seemed noticeably pleased but surprised by Danny’s comment. “Some philosophers see it that way, but others insist that there has to be an objective reality to the world. They say there must be a reality that exists outside of a need to be observed. Now Josh would be in that camp who wants a fixed and objective reality.”

Josh found Barbara’s comment demeaning in some way he couldn’t quite describe. Danny started to speak again.

“Maybe the answer is that things don’t have to be seen by people to be real. But because God sees everything, because God sees us, that makes us real.”

Even as he said this, Danny seemed troubled by his own statement.

But Barbara found it interesting. “Or perhaps something exists because you are the one who sees it. Maybe we are all God.”

Barbara settled back in her chair as though she found this statement particularly satisfying.

Josh judged what a mistake this lunch was. First, Chip showed up unannounced, and now he was stuck in this boring philosophical talk. He needed to bring the conversation back to firmer ground. While he was at it, he should engineer a strategy to return Chip to Wisconsin. The last thing anyone needed was for Chip digging around the books, or worse, talking to Colby Endicott. So Josh asked the question that seemed most logical to him, “I guess I flunked. I am still not getting it. What does this dead cat have to do with the success of an Internet business?”

Barbara laughed, “Probably nothing. But to me, it seems a similar quandary. Today’s investor has the dilemma that modern businesses exist in two different states of meaning. By the old rules, one of our Internet businesses would be judged worthless. Take Amazon. It’s not generating any profits. Who knows when or if it ever will? On the other hand, no one dares deny that these Internet companies are truly transformational, changing the way people work and live. In the process, huge numbers of people are developing new loyalties, and shifting the patterns of their lives and behavior. Surely the economy can only follow such mass movement, resulting in a tectonic force of change. As things settle, what will it all mean to the bottom line?

“We would have to be financial detectives to know for sure, inspecting in detail every business practice and every assumption behind it. And after all that, could we even then determine which scenario is true? Any inspection process has its own associated and radioactive assumptions. You can’t avoid it, but those assumptions might very well act as the catalyst that breaks open the bottle of poison that kills the cat inside the box. It is sort of a frightening Rube Goldberg construction shining in the bright lights of the financial day.”

“In short, inspecting things too closely will kill the cat, and so much for our modern jobs.” With that Barbara stopped talking.

“Are you telling me dot-com businesses are worthless? Are you suggesting my company is worthless?” Josh challenged. Why in hell would he ever speak at a BLINK conference if Barbara thought nonsense like that?

“I am just suggesting that we not look too close.”

INTERLUDE

Session Four

You don’t like me
very much, do you, doc? Not that I care. I’m not paying you two hundred bucks an hour to get you to like me. I’m here to resolve my problems.

It seems to worry you though. I don’t understand why. Isn’t that what therapy is all about: helping people maximize their self-esteem and become the people they’re meant to be? The world knows I’m meant for greatness. I just have this hurdle in my way—figuring out what to do about Danny. It’s my problem, and I have to fix it.

The thing is . . . it’s not just Danny. By himself, he’s a big enough distraction, keeping me from my full potential. It seems like I never know what I really want to do with him. Do I want him happy? Do I want him sad? Or do I just want him to stay in his raw state?

Yeah, of course, I want him to be mine. Not anyone else’s. I don’t need you to tell me that. By the way, he wouldn’t even need to know I’m alive. I just need to know that I control him.

Don’t give me that look. We all try to control the people around us. Molding the ones we love is the American way. Turn the alcoholic into a teetotaler. Transform the conformist into a trailblazer.

Sometimes I think people only love the people they do because they want to be controlled by that person. It’s so much easier than choosing your own life. And then there are those people like you. All you live for is to fuck up the lives of those around you. What God gave you that right?

Okay, I take that back. You can delete what I said from your tape if you want. I respect you.

But do you realize how hard it is to truly control the life of another? Stupid question. Of course, you do. But there are too damn many influences. That’s why I don’t like it when Danny makes new friends. Who knows what they will talk him into thinking or attempting.

But on the other hand, every new person opens up the door for my experiments. New people who matter to him let me inflict a little pain into his life and test him without touching him directly. Like a slow water drip form of torture.

Take that bitch Francesca Petroff. I didn’t like the way she wormed her way into Danny’s world, sneaking in through her friendship with those fags Wally and Stephen. One moment she was the feared restaurant critic whose bad review could destroy everything they had lived for. Next thing you know she was everyone’s bosom buddy.

And I can tell Danny likes her. Something in her free spirit speaks to him. I had to squash that. It wouldn’t have been long before she would’ve been yet another of his confidantes—the way Kenosha Washington is. That would have been unbearable. I had to find a way to make her life a little bit more miserable. Only appropriate after the way she horned into Danny’s life.

The bitch was so excited about that baby, so happy that her empty bedroom would be filled with the bastard child of a wetback maid. Well, I showed her. I made certain she never achieved her little dream.

You’re giving me that look again. I didn’t do anything illegal. You seem overly judgmental for a therapist.

I just did my duty as a citizen. Placed that anonymous call to the government. Alerted them to an illegal alien in our midst. Had to call twice. Sweetened the pot the second time by suggesting the girl was connected to the drug trade.

Maybe she was, maybe she wasn’t. But the INS finally paid attention. After that, it didn’t take long and she was over the border—along with the baby in her belly. So long Francesca’s longed-for daughter. Hello depression. Maybe now she’ll stay out of Danny’s life.

Don’t mess with me when it comes to Danny. Eventually, I’ll get my way.

CHAPTER FOUR

The Partner

The storm clouds
that hung low over the city troubled Josh with the way their gloom obscured the hills encircling downtown Los Angeles. While the overhead lights in the Premios offices were bright, a sogginess in the air sucked out all the glow.

It was a typical wintry January day in a city that could always use more rain, but it wasn’t Josh’s kind of day. He much preferred a Los Angeles where the bright, unfiltered sun highlighted even the dirtiest of alleys or most untended palm trees. Subtlety and shadings had their value, but he preferred a landscape under a spotlight.

Chip’s surprise visit was proving a major annoyance. The man wanted to dig into everything about the business. What did he expect from his half-million dollar stake? Didn’t he realize he was a minor player? He only put in five per cent of the second round; he wasn’t like Colby who provided nine and a half million, yet still had the good sense never to ask unnecessary questions.

Josh blamed only himself. Whether it was nostalgia for his days in Thread or a desire to hedge his bets, he was the one who offered the minority position to Chip. His rationale to Danny had been simple. As a successful businessperson who already ran a major tech services firm, Chip could provide practical management expertise and advice, and because of their hometown ties, Danny and he could be certain of Chip’s trustworthiness. But Josh never expected Chip to actually pay attention to any aspect of Premios.

The old saw was true: be careful what you wish for. Publicly, Josh claimed that he wanted someone with the expertise to ask questions. That’s how he explained it to Colby after the man questioned the need to involve Chip. Now Chip was asking questions, and they were the right questions, depending on your point of view. Josh needed to answer them sufficiently so Chip would be satisfied and depart.

Luckily, Orleans was a pro at calming investors and bankers. More than that, Orleans was a grand master of the presentation deck. She could project a slide with the full intensity of hundreds of lumens of light to blast any facts across the conference wall. She carried in her head an encyclopedia of Excel-based charts, all artfully decked in colorful formats, embellished with Premios branding elements. Whenever a slide was needed she knew exactly where it was. Revenue per employee. Costs to acquire a new subscriber. Monthly burn rates. No detail escaped capture by Orleans and her charts. Whatever Chip might ask, Josh knew Orleans would have the answer.

While Josh understood such things, they bored him, That’s why he needed Orleans as a trusted right hand—someone to keep details in place and alert him to dangers ahead.

But as good as she was, on this day, Orleans wasn’t sufficiently adept. Chip quickly grasped the reality hidden by details. He asked, “Are you telling me that there are no reserves remaining from the second round of financing? I can’t believe that in just thirteen months you’ve already spent ten million dollars.”

Josh could handle that. “It was a necessary investment to get where we needed to be. Success online is all about being the first to homestead valuable territory. Being the first mover, and all that.”

“Where exactly did the money go?” Chip asked Orleans, not bothering to include Josh with his penetrating look. Josh pretended he wasn’t insulted. But Josh noticed that Danny, sitting quietly in this meeting, sent him a worried glance, as though he thought Josh couldn’t deal with Chip’s question.

Orleans brought up an entirely different PowerPoint deck to explain that. Josh never expected Chip to ask this kind of question, but Orleans was prepared. She began walking through the details of a story that Josh knew by heart. In one form or another, Orleans’ stacks of presentations would be shown to a dozen or more bankers. It was one of the hurdles in obtaining mezzanine funding, a series of loans that would let Premios grow to the point where an initial public stock offering could be achieved.

In one way, Barbara Linsky had been right at lunch earlier in the week. No one in the banking community understood the Internet business. Those men and women in their tailored suits just recognized something was smoking hot and that they couldn’t afford to miss out on whatever that something was. They were whipped into attention by early stock offerings such as Yahoo and Amazon. Deep in their money-grubbing bones, they felt the opportunity for a quick kill. They suffered through listening to strategies about building audiences, monetizing content, creating brand equity, releasing disruptive technologies, and all the other nonsense that constructed the tenuous skeleton of every Internet company presentation. All they really understood was the potential for the emergence of fresh meat dripping with the dollar-tinged scent of new blood.

But Chip wasn’t a banker. Something else motivated him, and Josh knew they should definitely not underestimate the man. Josh first met him during those heady days when a group of real estate investors contrived to launch a major casino resort near Thread. They sought to pull a good one over Chip’s tribe. Instead, Chip leveraged his New York contacts and turned the tables. When everyone walked away, it was Chip and his allies who controlled the project. On the other hand, the man who originally led the American Seasons resort team spiraled into personal bankruptcy—so broke that Josh and Danny now owned the financier’s former camp in Thread. Josh knew firsthand where Chip’s questioning mind could lead. It was time to put a stop to it.

“Chip,” Josh interrupted Orleans in the middle of her charts, “these questions are great. They really are. They’re exactly the details that will interest a Lehman Brothers or Goldman Sachs when we start our investor tour.

“But what is really going on here? You didn’t fly all the way to Los Angeles to talk about reports that we could have e-mailed you.”

Josh stopped there and remained quiet. It was an old trick, but even smart guys like Chip couldn’t abide silence for long.

Chip shifted
in his chair, and Josh thought he had won. Clearly Chip was trying to decide how much he was willing to say. Mentally, Josh ran through the potential concerns. Likely Chip already processed all the facts and figures from Orleans and was correctly computing that Premios was ramping up its investments so recklessly that it could run out of money by June. The only way it could survive would be through a successful springtime initial public offering of stock, or IPO.

But a failed IPO wasn’t in the cards. The market was hot. You had to bet big to win big. That was Josh’s motto.

Maybe Josh was missing something. Chip could be surprisingly moralistic. The other night Josh noticed how Chip looked at Jesus Lopez with disdain. If he didn’t like Lopez’s novels, he also probably didn’t like the methods that Premios was using to feed its blogs and contents. The truth was that sites like Premios were little more than gossip sites gussied up in new tuxedos. They thrived on secrets told by people spilling the hidden details of others. But again, that strategy didn’t worry Josh. Orleans and he protected the firm by using a strong set of safeguards to distance the worst scum.

Then again maybe Chip was skeptical about the reported numbers. Premios was using pretty sophisticated approaches to boost the count of site visitors, and maybe there was a bit of exaggeration built into how they measured unique visitors or average time spent on the site. That was true of everyone in the business; every advertiser knew he had to take those numbers with a grain of salt. Besides, who even knew what accuracy was? Ultimately, this new world was all about growth and buzz.

On that topic, Colby Endicott agreed with Josh one hundred per cent. That’s why the man had been so eager for his firm to be an early investor. God, he hoped Chip wasn’t interested in knowing more about Colby. That might be a harder relationship to explain. Josh allowed a frown to creep across his face just by thinking about the complications.

Orleans misread Josh’s facial expression and thought he was asking her to drag Chip back into the numbers. “Chip,” she said, “just tell me the details you want to see, and we will pull up the right files.”

“It’s the files themselves,” Chip said.

Orleans look confused, “What do you mean?”

Chip looked at Josh, “You know, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Someone is trying to corrupt your customer data. Ultimately, the Premios business is all about the information you collect from your users. That’s how you direct advertising to the individuals most likely to be interested. That’s why advertisers even care. User data is your golden goose.”

Josh couldn’t disagree with such a fundamental fact. “Look,” he replied, “it’s no secret that companies like Premios will ultimately make money from selling focused advertising. Currently, the subscription fees and sponsorships just help to keep the lights on. So, yes, in the long run, customer data is key. But who’s trying to corrupt our data? What would that that even mean?”

Chip made no attempt to disguise his contempt at Josh’s reply. “You know what it means. It took me a while, but I realize now that you were the one who insisted on visiting the data center with me on New Year’s Eve. You had a purpose. Somehow you knew we would find a Trojan horse in the system. That’s why you detected it so quickly. You were expecting to see it and you wanted us to notice. But I’m guessing you didn’t anticipate that I would ask my team to dig into it.

“Here’s what I think. Someone is blackmailing you or your company. They alerted you to what their programs could do. They needed to provide a demonstration of their power. Because, as I think you know, that computer program on New Year’s Eve wasn’t designed to completely replace your customer user data with junk. It was just a way to prove that they could do it. So what do they want from you? Is it money? If your blackmailers were to go public with this threat, that alone would be enough to torpedo your potential stock offering. And delaying your IPO would kill your company.

“You’re in deep trouble, but I can help. Tell me what’s really going on. After all, I am part owner.”

Josh heaved a sigh
of relief, which Chip noticed, but Josh didn’t care. This was so much better than he feared. Chip had no clue as to what was really going on. Thank God. Josh still had a chance to make it all work. In fact, maybe this was a good thing. Maybe he could use Chip and his connections to force Colby Endicott out.

In retrospect, bringing in Endicott and Meyers as investors had been the stupidest thing Josh ever did. Colby Endicott might appear an unsophisticated frat boy with too much money to spend, but now he was partnering with a more dangerous crowd. It took Josh a while to realize it, but he was convinced that Colby Endicott’s firm was somehow laundering money and intending to take over the Premios e-commerce engine for some much larger mission.

Josh needed to discover where Colby’s money came from. He knew the real partner was not Meyers. There was definitely another source of money, so much bigger than what flowed from Colby’s trust fund, and it wasn’t all flowing to Josh. Some of it was headed elsewhere in Los Angeles. Josh imagined all sorts of possibilities: mob money from the East Coast, Columbian or Mexican drug money, or maybe even Chinese or Middle Eastern ill-gotten gains. Whatever the money’s source, the firm of Endicott Meyers existed to put it to work. They needed a respected face in the dot com world to make it happen, and unfortunately they had chosen Premios to be that front.

Josh knew only one thing for certain. He needed to be ruthless in excising this partner. He needed to do it without anyone finding out. And he needed to do it soon. While he still had a company to run.

Josh had never felt so alive.

Cynthia uneasily watched
the horizon. Outside, the northern lights shifted in a jagged pattern of dancing green across the far northern skies. Alone in the house and missing Chip, Cynthia found the aura unsettling. While she knew they were a natural phenomena associated with surges of energy from the sun, somehow they seemed a harbinger of unwanted days. Even in the far northern reaches of Wisconsin, they rarely appeared, but tonight they shimmered and jerked in an ever-changing undulation.

She turned away from the north-facing window. The phone call just ended with Chip left her spooked. Days earlier, she tried to talk him out of flying to Los Angeles when she said someone else could dig into the problem because it wasn’t even their issue. Now she begged him to come home and let others deal with what he had uncovered.

Chip was too principled to do that. He took ownership of issues She saw that the very first time he walked through the doors of the old Loon Town Café. She had been a waitress in Thread, and on that day business was unusually slow. His profile caught by the timeless sunlight of that long ago morning caused her to skip a breath. Remembering the moment still had impact. How was it possible to know with one look that she had encountered the one person she needed to be with for the rest of her life?

Danny was a busboy in the same restaurant that summer. Cynthia had been on a hopeless quest to light some spark of sexual connection with the brooding boy, but once she saw Chip, she began to envision a different goal. Kissing the tall, dark, and much older Native American leader from the nearby reservation became her new fantasy. Her father hated the local Indian tribe, so she couldn’t mention her new-found fascination, but keeping the idea locked within her heart only made it grow faster.

From the beginning, she was attracted by the purpose and intent in Chip’s every action. He had a drive that was fueled by his pride in doing the right thing for his tribe and all those he considered important. Now, she knew better than to expect that Chip would let go of any strand of an unraveling mystery. He would judge it his duty to alert Josh and Danny of perceived dangers, and she couldn’t argue with such a noble intention.