My head tilts toward the mastermind of this operation.Your zoo, your monkeys, dude. I’m not the primary.
The insurance man purses his lips, leans back in his chair, and pauses as if deep in thought.
A minute of silence passes. Then, he stirs and directs a steely gaze at the businessman. “In order to guarantee a full payout, we will need your cooperation.”
“To the extent it doesn’t jeopardize the integrity of our data, you have it.” The executive isn’t making sense. What kind of Muppet intel is he protecting?
I venture a guess. “Surely, a glance at your delivery manifest wouldn’t break any rules.”
The angry creases around his eyes vanish and surfer-guy reappears. “Everything is in the cloud. But have no worries. I’ll make sure you have access to what you need. While I’m requesting permissions, is there anything else you’d like to know?”
“We’ll need to see your personnel files.” I smile sweetly. Someone at CloudTekToys must be aware their product is stuffed with fentanyl and I’m not going to stop until I find them.
“We research our employees more than any other company in the world. I don’t see why you would need-”
“It’s crucial to our investigation.” Dash’s tone leaves no room for argument.
“Very well.” Mansfield stands. “Ms. Sutcliff, Mr. Montclair, if you’ll excuse me, I have many important appointments this morning. From here on in, my assistant, Oliver, will attend to your needs.”
Is the CEO so busy, he can’t take more than twenty minutes to recoup a half million dollars? Only time and a lot of research will reveal the answers I’m looking for.
When I turn, the intern is back, holding out his hand. “If you’ll give me your phones, I’ll insert my direct line.”
Not ready to have him escort us out the front door, I lie. “Can we stop at the cafeteria, first? I’m dying for a cup of coffee, and I skipped breakfast.”
The kid frowns, hesitates, and nodding, makes up his mind as he turns toward a door on the other side of the playground. “Yeah, I guess so. Why not? Walk this way.”
Retracing our steps past the tiny conference rooms, we reach a set of double doors. There, Oliver reaches to his belt and grabs a fob on a retractable string. As he places it flat against a black panel, an LED switches from red to green.
Then, we enter another spacious area and I gasp. Over a hundred developers sit face-to-face at long tables, typing on their laptops. I’m reminded of Sister Mary’s fifth grade class. She’d made us push our desks together for group projects and I always had to partner with the same three boys. Mark had ADHD, Tiny was dyslexic, and Paul, while smart, relished having me do all the work.
I can’t help but wonder, as I wander past the groups, if their dynamic is similar. Are there those who do and others who tag along and take credit? Like the playroom, various sized offices line the building’s exterior. In them, people write on white boards, project onto the wall, or stare at their screens, devoid of emotion. I’ve never considered myself claustrophobic but my skin crawls at lack of privacy in this vast ocean of flat surfaces. No wonder so many who worked from home during the pandemic, never returned.
Thankfully, we leave this space and enter a cafeteria. I grab a water from the cooler and a banana from the fruit basket. Done, I stand in line at one of the cash registers, struck by the differences between East and West Coasts. In Manhattan, workers grab a bite at the many local establishments. Here, they’re held prisoner under the flickering florescent lights.
In front of me, Dash slides forward a tray brimming over with toast, eggs, and hash browns. As he searches his wallet for a credit card, he leans over and whispers in my ear. “This is your opportunity to pump our young intern for info. Aren’t you hungrier than that?”
Understanding his meaning, I circle back and search for time-consuming chewy food. The best I can do is a stale-bagel-vegan-bacon sandwich. Also, because it feels more like lunchtime, I place a pre-wrapped salad in a plastic bowl on my tray. If I eat slowly, this meal can last an hour.
Finished paying, I grab a handful of miniature creamers and search the huge empty area for my companions. Most of the employees are working upstairs but a few linger, slouched behind their laptops.
When I spot my team sitting near a far window, I zig-zag through the maze of tables, and sit. In slow motion, the investigator rips the top off a sugar packet, pours it into his coffee, and stirs. I have much to learn about stall tactics.
“This seems like a really nice place to work.” Small talk initiated, I bite down, tug off a piece of rubber bagel, and chew.
Oliver shrugs and frowns. “I guess… but it’s nothing compared to Microsoft or Google.”
Despite what the FBI thought of my interrogation skills, I was damn good at my job and what I’m hearing is a lack of loyalty which I use to my advantage. “I’ve never been inside those other facilities. Is your layout the same?”
“Yeah. I suppose.” The kid glances toward the door. Obviously, there’s places he’d rather be.
My companion butters his toast meticulously, taking extreme care to cover the edges perfectly. “I know for a fact, their doors aren’t fob activated. The ancient security was retired years ago.”
At the insult to his company, the intern’s chin juts out. “No, but it doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
His face lights up and he begins to talk with his hands. “The thing about the new technology is there’re no physical servers to break into, at least not at this facility.”
