Disclosure: A Novel (43 page)

"Can he hear us?" Fernandez whispered.

"No," Sanders said, in a normal voice.

"Can we talk to him?"

“No.”

Conley seemed to make a decision. He walked over to Sanders and Fernandez, until he was standing very close. He looked from one to the other. They could see his expression perfectly.

Then he smiled. He extended his hand.

Sanders reached out, and shook it. He didn't feel anything, but through the headset he saw what looked like his hand gripping Conley's.

Then Conley shook Fernandez's hand.

"This is extremely weird," Fernandez said.

Conley pointed toward Nichols. Then he pointed to his own eyes. Then to Nichols again.

They crossed the gateway, past the barking dog, and came back into the Victorian library.

Fernandez sighed. "It feels good to be home again, doesn't it?"

Conley was walking along, showing no surprise. But then, he had seen the Corridor before. Sanders walked quickly. The angel floated alongside them.

"But you realize," Fernandez said, "that none of this makes any sense. Because Nichols is the one who's been opposed to the acquisition, and Conley is the one pushing for it."

"That's right," Sanders said. "It's perfect. Nichols is having it off with Meredith. He promotes her behind the scenes as the new head of the division. And how does he hide that fact? By continuously bitching and moaning to anybody who will listen."

"You mean, it's a cover."

"Sure. That's why Meredith never answered his complaints in any of the meetings. She knew he wasn't a real threat."

"And Conley?" she said.

Conley was still walking alongside them.

"Conley genuinely wants the acquisition. And he wants it to work well. Conley's smart, and I think he realizes that Meredith isn't competent for the job. But Conley sees Meredith as the price of Nichols's support. So Conley has gone along with the choice of Meredith-at least for the time being."

"And what are we doing now?"

"Finding out about the last missing piece."

"Which is?"

Sanders was looking down the hallway marked OPERATIONS. This wasn't really his area of the database, except in specific places of overlap. The files were marked alphabetically. He went down the row until he found DIGICOM/MALAYSIA SA.

He opened it up and searched the file section marked STARTUP.. He found his own memos, feasibility studies, site reports, government negotiations, first set specifications, memos from their Singapore suppliers, more government negotiations, all stretching back two years.

"What are you looking for?"

"Building plans."

He expected to see the thick sheets of blueprints and inspection summaries, but instead there was just a thin file. He opened the first sheet, and a three dimensional image of the factory floated in the air in front of him. It was just an outline at first, but it rapidly filled in and became solid-looking. Sanders, Fernandez, and Conley stood on three sides of it, looking at it. It was like a very large, detailed doll's house. They peered in through the windows.

Sanders pushed a button. The model became transparent, then turned into a cutaway; now they could see the assembly line, the physical plant. A green line the conveyor belt-started moving, and the machines and workers assembled the CD-ROM drives as the parts came down the line.

"What are you looking for?"

"Revisions." He shook his head. "This is the first set of plans."

The second sheet was marked "Revisions 1/First Set" with the date. He opened it up. The model of the plant seemed to shimmer for a moment, but it remained the same.

"Nothing happened."

The next sheet was marked "Revisions 2/Detail Only." Again, when he opened it, the plant shimmered briefly but was unchanged.

"According to these records, the plant was never revised," Sanders said. "But we know it was."

"What's he doing?" Fernandez said. She was looking at Conley.

Sanders saw that Conley was slowly mouthing words, his facial movements exaggerated.

"He's trying to tell us something," she said to Sanders. "Can you see what it is?"

"No." Sanders watched a moment, but the cartoonlike quality of Conley's face made it impossible to read his lips. Finally Sanders shook his head.

Conley nodded, and took the keypad out of Sanders's hand. He pushed a button marked RELATED and Sanders saw a list of related databases flash up in the air. It was an extensive list, including the permits from the Malay government, the architect's notes, the contractor agreements, health and medical inspections, and more. All together, there were about eighty items on the list. Sanders felt sure he would have overlooked the one in the middle of the list that Conley was now pointing to:

OPERATIONS REVIEW UNIT

"What's that?" Fernandez said.

Sanders pressed the name and a new sheet fluttered up. He pushed a button marked SUMMARY and read the sheet aloud: " `The Operations Review Unit was formed four years ago in Cupertino by Philip Blackburn to address problems not normally within Operations Management purview. The mission of the Review Unit was to improve management efficiency within DigiCom. Over the years, the Operations Review Unit has successfully resolved a number of management problems at DigiCom.' "

"Uh-huh," Fernandez said.

" `Nine months ago, the Operations Review Unit, then headed by Meredith Johnson of Cupertino Operations, undertook a review of the proposed manufacturing facility in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. The immediate stimulus for the review was a conflict with the Malay government over the number and ethnic composition of workers employed at the proposed facility.' "

"Uh-oh," Fernandez said.

" `Led by Ms. Johnson, with legal assistance from Mr. Blackburn, the Operations Review Unit had outstanding success in resolving the many problems facing DigiCom's Malaysian operation.' "

"What is this, a press release?" Fernandez said.

"Looks like it," Sanders said. He read on: " `Specific issues concerned the number and ethnic composition of workers employed at the facility. The original plans called for seventy workers to be employed. Responding to the requests of the Malay government, Operations Review was able to increase the number of workers to eighty-five by reducing the amount of automation at the plant, thus making the facility more suitable to the economy of a developing country.' " Sanders looked over at Fernandez. "And screwing us completely," he said.

"Why?

He continued: " Ìn addition, a cost-savings review generated important fiscal benefits in a number of areas. Costs were reduced with no detriment to product quality at the plant.

Air-handling capacity was revised to more appropriate levels, and outsourcing supplier contracts were reallocated, with substantial savings benefit to the company.' " Sanders shook his head. "That's it," he said. "That's the whole ball game.

"I don't understand," Fernandez said. "This makes sense to you?" "You're damned right it does."

He pushed the DETAIL button for more pages.

"I am sorry," the angel said, "there is no more detail."

"Angel, where are the supporting memos and files?" Sanders knew that there had to be massive paperwork behind these summary changes. The renegotiations with the Malay government alone would fill drawers of files.

The angel said, "I am sorry. There is no more detail available."

"Angel, show me the files."

"Very well."

After a moment, a sheet of pink paper flashed up:

THE DETAIL FILES ON

OPERATIONS REVIEW UNIT/MALAYSIA

HAVE BEEN DELETED

SUNDAY 6/14 AUTHORIZATION DC/C/5905

"Hell," Sanders said.

"What does that mean?"

"Somebody cleaned up," Sanders said. `Just a few days ago. Who knew all this was going to happen? Angel, show me all communications between Malaysia and DC for the past two weeks."

"Do you wish telephone or video links?"

"Video."

"Press V."

He pushed a button, and a sheet uncurled in the air:

Date Linking To Duration Auth

6/1 A. Kahn > M. Johnson 0812-0814 ACSS

6/1 A. Kahn > M. Johnson 1343-1346 ADSS

6/2 A. Kahn > M. Johnson 1801-1804 DCSC

6/2 A. Kahn > T. Sanders 1822-1826 DOSE

6/3 A. Kahn > M. Johnson 0922-0924 ADSC

6/4 A. Kahn > M. Johnson 0902-0912 ADSC

6/5 A. Kahn > M. Johnson 0832-0832 ADSC

6/7 A. Kahn > M. Johnson 0904-0905 ACSS

6/11 A. Kahn > M. Johnson 2002-2004 ADSC

6/13 A. Kahn > M. Johnson 0902-0932 ADSC

6/14 A. Kahn > M. Johnson 1124-1125 ACSS

6/15 A. Kahn > T. Sanders 1132-1134 DCSE

"Burning up the satellite links," Sanders said, staring at the list. "Arthur Kahn and Meredith Johnson talked almost every day until June fourteenth. Angel, show me these video links."

"The links are not available for viewing except for 6/is."

That had been his own transmission to Kahn, two days earlier. "Where are the others?"

A message flashed up:

THE VIDEO FILES ON

OPERATIONS REVIEW UNIT/MALAYSIA

HAVE BEEN DELETED

SUNDAY 6/14 AUTHORIZATION DC/C/5905

Scrubbed again. He was pretty sure who had done it, but he had to be sure. "Angel, how do I check deletion authorization?"

"Press the data you desire," the Angel said.

Sanders pressed the authorization number. A small sheet of paper came upward out of the top sheet and hung in the air:

AUTHORIZATION DC/C/5905 IS

DIGITAL COMMUNICATIONS

CUPERTINO/OPERATIONS EXECUTIVE

SPECIAL PRIVILEGES NOTED

(NO OPERATOR ID NECESSARY)

"It was done by somebody very high up in Operations in Cupertino, a few days ago."

"Meredith?"

"Probably. And it means I'm screwed."

"Why?"

"Because now I know what was done at the Malaysia plant. I know exactly what happened: Meredith went in and changed the specs. But she's erased the data, right down to her voice transmissions to Kahn. Which means I can't prove any of it."

Standing in the corridor, Sanders poked the sheet, and it fluttered back down, dissolving into the top sheet. He closed his file, put it back in the drawer, and watched the model dissolve and disappear.

He looked over at Conley. Conley gave a little resigned shrug. He seemed to understand the situation. Sanders shook his hand, gripping air, and waved good-bye. Conley nodded and turned to leave.

"Now what?" Fernandez said.

"It's time to go," Sanders said.

The angel began to sing: "It's time to go, so long again till next week's show"

"Angel, be quiet." The angel stopped singing. He shook his head. `Just like Don Cherry."

"Who's Don Cherry?" Fernandez asked.

"Don Cherry is a living god," the angel said.

They walked back to the entrance to the Corridor and then climbed out of the blue screen.

Back in Cherry's lab, Sanders took off the headset and, after a moment of disorientation, stepped off the walker pad. He helped Fernandez remove her equipment. "Oh," she said, looking around. "We're back in the real world."

"If that's what you call it," he said. "I'm not sure it's that much more real." He hung up her headset and helped her down from the walker pad. Then he turned off the power switches around the room.

Fernandez yawned and looked at her watch. "It's eleven o'clock. What are you going to do now?"

There was only one thing he could think of. He picked up the receiver on one of Cherry's data modem lines and dialed Gary Bosak's number. Sanders couldn't retrieve any data, but perhaps Bosak couldif he could talk him into it. It wasn't much of a hope. But it was all he could think to do.

An answering machine said, "Hi, this is NE Professional Services. I'm out of town for a few days, but leave a message." And then a beep.

Sanders sighed. "Gary, it's eleven o'clock on Wednesday. I'm sorry I missed you. I'm going home." He hung up.

His last hope.

Gone.

Out of town for a few days.

"Shit," he said.

"Now what?" Fernandez said, yawning.

"I don't know," he said. "I've got half an hour to make the last ferry. I guess I'll go home and try to get some sleep."

"And the meeting tomorrow?" she asked. "You said you need documentation."

Sanders shrugged. "Louise, I've done all that I can do. I know what I'm up against. I'll manage somehow."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he said. "See you tomorrow."

He felt less sanguine on the ferry going home, looking back at the lights of the city in the rippling black water. Fernandez was right; he ought to be getting the documentation he needed. Max would criticize him, if he knew. He could almost hear the old man's voice:

"Oh, so you're tired? That's a good reason, Thomas."

He wondered if Max would be at the meeting tomorrow. But he found he couldn't really think about it. He couldn't imagine the meeting. He was too tired to concentrate. The loudspeaker announced that they were five minutes from Winslow, and he went below decks to get into his car.

He unlocked the door and slipped behind the wheel. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw a dark silhouette in the backseat.

"Hey," Gary Bosak said.

Sanders started to turn.

"Just keep looking forward," Bosak said. "I'll get out in a minute. Now listen carefully.

They're going to screw you tomorrow. They're going to pin the Malaysia fiasco on you."

"I know."

"And if that doesn't work, they're going to hit you with employing me. Invasion of privacy. Felonious activity. All that crap. They've talked to my parole officer. Maybe you've seen him-a fat guy with a mustache?"

Sanders vaguely remembered the man walking up to the mediation center the day before.

"I think so, yes. Gary, listen, I need some documents-"

"Don't talk. There's no time. They pulled all the documents relating to the plant off the system. Nothing's there anymore. It's gone. I can't help you." They heard the sound of the ferry horn. All around them, drivers were starting their engines. "But I'm not going down for this felony crap. And you're not, either. Take this." He reached forward, and handed Sanders an envelope.