Big Data: A Startup Thriller Novel

Chapter 30

Heath took Alex to the Bower, Bower, and Nathanson office on Palo Alto's University Street. Alex usually hated lawyers, but he took a liking to Heath pretty quickly. Probably because he seemed to genuinely care about finding Luna. Alex was sure Heath had his own motives for doing so, but still, Alex also knew that most people were incredibly lazy.

When faced with a problem—any problem—most people would rather do nothing rather than risk failing to fix it. It had bred an entire generation of irresponsible, lazy asses, who simply waited passively to see what new problems would enter their lives. Alex couldn't stand people like that. And the older he got, it seemed the more passive people there were. Heath, however, looked determined, and Alex liked that.

By the time they made it to the office, Heath was fully caught up on the events since Luna's flight from New York—including the problem of the passcode.

"You're looking at the wrong problem," said Heath. "We just need to get ahold of Luna's friend at Ancien. All we need is his name."

"So, we just call the front desk and ask if Phillip is there?" asked Alex. "I don't even remember his last name. I don't think your plan's very likely to work."

"Come on, old man. Who calls front desks anymore? If he's Luna's friend, he's probably high up on the food chain. Most companies list upper management on their websites."

The world was moving too fast for Alex. Maybe it was a good thing he'd been pushed into early retirement. Heath sat at his mahogany desk and, with a few keystrokes, pulled up a list of senior executives at Ancien. Phillip Jones's large round face showed up right below Luna's. No smile. Looked like he hadn't smiled in decades. Chief operating officer. No phone number, but there was an email address.

Heath spent a few minutes drafting a short email and carefully double-checked the wording. Then he sent it and turned to Alex.

"There. Hopefully, this guy calls us back within a few hours. If he's as friendly with Luna as you seem to think, chances are we'll see him before nightfall."

"What did you say to him?"

"Basically that I'm Luna's lawyer and had a few urgent questions for him regarding her case. If your hunch is correct and Ancien's new leadership isn't aboveboard, they might be listening. I didn't want to risk them figuring out what's really going on. But I have yet to meet a senior executive who doesn't obsessively check email. They might not reply to every email quickly, but they sure as hell read them fast."

Heath was right. The call came less than fifteen minutes later. He put it on speaker.

"Hello, Heath," said Phillip. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," said Heath. "Thanks for calling me back so soon. Some of the things that we need to discuss are quite, well, sensitive. Would you be free to meet this evening to discuss them in person?"

"I can meet you now. Just tell me where."

"Sure," said Heath. "Can you come by the off—"

"The outdoor Rodin sculpture garden at Stanford," Alex interrupted without hesitation.

"I can be there in fifteen minutes."

He hung up.

"Why not here?" asked Heath.

"If they're monitoring email, they might be watching him, too. This way, I'll be able to watch for a tail."

The good reason is almost never the real reason, though, Alex thought. His son, Simon, had always wanted to see the place. It had been his plan that when he got old enough to look at colleges, they would take a tour of Stanford just to see the damned art exhibit. He'd reassured Alex that he didn't want to go to Stanford. That he would never move that far away from his old man. But what the hell did Alex know? Maybe the real reason wasn't the good reason then, either.

"Good call," said Heath.

Phillip wasn't yet at the campus when they arrived. They strode lazily around the Rodin Museum, looking for a plump businessman. It was impressive, but Alex had to wonder what the big deal was.

Heath whispered to Alex, "Hey, what about him? Near The Gates of Hell."

Alex turned toward the massive sculpture. The man looked nervous. It was definitely Phillip. They went up to him.

"Phillip?" said Heath.

"Yes, are you Heath Lemming? The lawyer?"

"Yes, thanks for meeting us so quickly."

"I've got plenty of time. You see, I was recently laid off," said Phillip.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Heath. He looked over at Alex, sticking out his bottom lip in defeat.

"It's not official yet. They're waiting for some big staff meeting before making the announcement. But they don't want me doing any work, so I was at home when I got your email. Figured what the hell? If I can help Luna, it'll be the most productive day I've had all week."

"Actually," said Alex, "Luna needs your help more than you know."

A loud bang echoed through the air. Once again, Alex found himself reflexively grabbing for the gun that wasn't there. He clearly needed to fix that. He ducked down, pulling on Heath, who was still standing and gaping. Alex was impressed with Phillip, though. Most people freeze up upon hearing gunshots. Especially big guys like Phillip. But he was instinctively crouching down, too.

No. He wasn't ducking. He was falling. He'd been shot.