The Devil's Analyst (22 page)

“You place Josh on too high a pedestal,” Kenosha said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Maybe we should order,” she murmured.

Danny didn’t like that Kenosha seemed suddenly more interested in the menu than their conversation. He was having none of it. “No, you brought this up. What are you trying to tell me about Josh?”

She set the menu down and fully met his gaze. It was as though they started a stare contest, and he flinched first. Only then did she speak.

“Okay. Here’s the deal. I’ve known you almost since the day you arrived in Los Angeles. And I’ve known Josh just as long. You and I . . . we have a connection. With Josh, not so much. So maybe that colors what I’ve got to say.”

“Kenosha, you’ve never held back on anything. Hey, where’s your fake inner city swagger? Just spill it.”

“All right. Here goes. You worship Josh. You always have. It’s kind of sweet, really. And I guess he worships you as well. I get it.

“But it like you wear blinders. You filter everything about Josh through some screen of goodness. I know you love how people are so attracted to him. He’s the kind of guy everyone wants at a party. You bask in his energy.”

“But,” Danny prompted, “it feels like there’s a big ‘but’ coming.”

“But . . . you never notice the ways that Josh is calculating and manipulative, even cruel.”

“That’s not Josh. We’ve been together fourteen years. I know. Can you give me one example?”

Kenosha looked away and signaled the waiter. “Let’s skip this and order.”

The waiter walked over, but Danny motioned him away. “No, tell me. If you’re right about this, shouldn’t I know? You’re like family, Kenosha. You can tell me anything. You owe me the truth.”

She sighed again and gave in. “Here’s one example. That’s all you get, and then we’re going to order. Okay? So you know Aaron, the gay kid in accounting.” Danny nodded his head. “He’s a shy guy, but paranoid about AIDS, just super concerned. Still, he’s really sweet. Josh knows that, but even so he set him up with a waiter from the New Loon Town Café.”

“That’s good. Isn’t it?”

“The waiter was HIV positive. Josh knew it, but he didn’t tell Aaron.”

“Why would he do something like that?”

“Because he thought it was funny, and he wanted to see how Aaron would react when he found out.” Kenosha leaned back against her chair, folded her arms, and rested her case.

Danny didn’t know how to respond, so he motioned the waiter back. At least, they could eat. It would keep him from thinking.

INTERLUDE

Session Ten

I’m not the only one.
That’s the important thing to remember. Whenever I do something, there are always others at my side

You know what attracts people to me? I’m like a mirror that reflects back whatever they want to see. People don’t want mirrors that tell the truth. They want the mirror to project the image that they think they are, their imaginary soul. Not their real essence.

Remember that myth about Narcissus? He was such a beauty that when he happened to glance at his own reflection in a quiet pool he fell in love with the beautiful person before him. But he never realized he was looking at himself.

To me, what’s interesting about a true Narcissus is that they’re not in love with themselves. No, they’re in the love with the ideal. It’s just that their vision of what is perfection happens to be themselves.

And you know in the Greek story, no one ever said Narcissus was ugly. In fact, quite the opposite, he was the most handsome person around. So what was wrong with falling in love with yourself? Shouldn’t you love the very best?

I know what you’re thinking. You’re just figuring out a way to help me realize that I’m a narcissist. Not at all, doc. I’m the other one in the story.

What? You don’t know? I thought analysts were supposed to know all these archetypes. The story involves more than Narcissus. The original Greek tale says a spirit of divine retribution attracted Narcissus to the water, so that he could be smitten by his own reflection.

That’s who I am. I am that divine retribution and my name is Nemesis . . . just like in the myth.

I exist to be everyone’s Nemesis. I can be the god who makes everyone look into a mirror and see the beauty and joy that they imagine is possible. I want to know what attracts them and then I can turn it on them. Francesca wanted nothing more than to be a mother; and I gutted her dream. Chip Grant saw himself as a great leader of his people, and I made certain the world at large learned he was nothing more than a common crook.

That’s what I do. I make people face reality. That’s all that Nemesis ever did. He makes people realize what they truly love, and then breaks their illusions. Nemesis shatters the mirrors and forces people to recognize truth. Nemesis is the ultimate truth seeker.

You and I share that, don’t we? We value the truth.

Do you recall how the myth of Narcissus ends?

No? Let me tell you. Nemesis tempted the beautiful Narcissus to the water’s edge, and when Narcissus realizes he could never achieve what he sees shimmering in the water below, he deliberately falls in and drowns himself. Narcissus destroys all that he is. He knows he can’t be both what he really is and what he seeks to be.

Remember that lesson. The only way to escape Nemesis is death.

CHAPTER TEN

Shifting Sands

Josh exited
the subway at Union Station, walked to the far end of the platform, rode multiple flights of escalators, and then entered the heart of the last great railroad station built in America. Its grand space always inspired him even as it reminded him of hardboiled detective novels. As new arrivals buzzed around him, he reflected on how the recent building of the Metro subway and the revival of the commuter trains gave this
grande dame
some spurts of liveliness. But he kept walking. He had an appointment to keep.

He exited the door to cross Alameda Street and reach the Plaza that fronted Olvera Street, the original heart of historic Los Angeles. On a sunny day in late February the place was bustling with tourists searching for colorful piñatas, cheap leather goods, and a strong margarita.

On a bench beneath the towering fig tree across from the Mexican consulate, he sat and waited. Soon a good-looking man dressed in shorts and a golf shirt, wearing a digital camera hanging from a strap around his neck, sat beside Josh.

“Bit cloak and dagger, don’t you think?” said Josh drolly.

Oliver Meyers responded, “You’re the one who insisted we meet in public. So if we have to be visible, we do it my way.”

“Whatever. Anyway, it’s all good. I just don’t want people in my office knowing that we’re meeting.”

On the far side of the plaza, the bells at the Catholic church began to toll the hour. “What’s so important anyway that we needed to talk?” asked Josh.

Josh had better things to do than meet with this guy, but Oliver had been so insistent on the phone that they needed a discussion. Oliver wasn’t the real power anyway. Along with Colby Endicott, he was just the front for far more dangerous people. Josh didn’t know why be bothered, but Josh knew a little bit about who Oliver’s people were, so he felt he had the upper hand.

Oliver never took his eyes from the entrance to the paseo of small souvenir shops and restaurants that made up the heart of this tourist attraction. It was as though he expected some menace to emerge. He sighed and complained, “We aren’t seeing much progress.”

Josh said nothing. He wasn’t about to offer an opinion on how things were going.

Oliver continued, “Big Stick isn’t carrying its weight, and that’s not good. So far, we supported you in every way you asked. Don’t think we’re doing it for the pleasure of your company. We’re expecting results.”

“I provided the first demonstration. Like you asked.”

“And that was months ago. What’s been happening since? You demanded an extra million to keep going, and we found it. Don’t you think it’s time to start repaying? You know why we invested in you.”

Josh just sighed. This man was so tiresome.

Josh gained no energy
from any of the bustle around him—not the steady stream of visitors to the consulate across the plaza, nor the tourists heading to the small firefighting museum, and not even the ones taking pictures of themselves with the burro wrapped in serapes. Josh was reminded that this corner of the United States once belonged to the Spanish empire and then the Republic of Mexico. Everybody was always fighting over territory. The battles continued to this day, but he also had territory to protect. Premios was not going to be ruled by Meyers’ gang.

Looking back over his interactions with Endicott and Meyers, Josh couldn’t finger exactly the moment when he first should have resisted. It was easy to say now that the best solution would have been to avoid Endicott-Meyers from the start. But at first bringing in Colby seemed an easy solution. A frequent patron of the New Loon Town Café, Colby was drinking buddies with Josh, who in turn thought he knew and understood the addition of Oliver. The two men were a known quantity, and they were so eager to invest. Only a fool could resist taking as much as they wanted to give. Besides Danny and his money had other places to be. Who could argue with the wisdom of leveraging other people’s money when it came to building one’s own dreams?

There were troublesome indicators from the start. Oliver kept drilling him about data mining, and then he put him in touch with the hacker in Poland. That was the first major red flag. Things only went downhill from there. Josh liked to think he was always the one in control, but an independent analysis would likely show he was manipulated throughout. It would be hard to say for certain who even dreamed up Project Big Stick.

Clearly he should have shucked free the moment Endicott-Meyers couldn’t account for the source of the money they were investing. But now things were different because Josh had pinpointed whose money they were really spending—and because Oliver didn’t know that Josh knew this, Josh felt in the driver’s seat.

After Oliver insisted his people needed to see Project Rough Rider at work, Josh’s first proof was the New Year stunt. There was no great trick to the rapid transmission of huge blocks of bits; the art was to sneak that data out without anyone knowing it was gone, and even better replacing it with something corrupted with hidden gizmos. Oliver forced Josh to use a real world lab but Josh didn’t dare to do his first major experiment with anything other than his own company. If the transfer hadn’t worked, it might have set off too many questions. That’s why Josh insisted on accompanying Chip that evening to the data center. Josh knew when and what to look for. Part of the test was to determine how a dedicated data center staff would respond, and part of his plan to make sure the demonstration didn’t go too far.

The demonstration passed with flying colors. The short-term server, which Oliver’s people set up in the Valley, received the anticipated data. Once everyone saw what they wanted to see, they dismantled that office. But by that point Josh was in too deep. He had failed to plan his escape quickly enough.

Oliver spoke
, “It’s time to take the next step with Big Stick.” His voice was calm. He pointed his camera to frame a shot of the front facade of Union Station. It clicked, but Josh knew the photo taking was only a prop. “My team wants to see the next level of demonstration.”

Josh chose to change the subject. “Your guys are too focused on the original objective. Events change. If you stay myopic, you’ll let a fortune slip away. When we started who would have guessed the market would be so hot. You’re going to make tens of millions on this deal. Make sure that IPO goes off without a hitch before you try anything with Big Stick.”

Oliver couldn’t bother to keep the condescension out of his voice. “It’s not up for negotiation, Josh. You don’t understand what we’re about. The goal isn’t a few million dollars. It’s about something much bigger.”

Internally Josh smirked. He had a pretty good idea what the real goal was. One didn’t need to be a genius to extrapolate the potential of Big Stick.

Oliver kept talking. “The only reason we care if your firm thrives is because we need you to finish this project. If that goal requires your company going public and making you a few million, well, we’ll consider that your payoff. It’s not what motivates us. Remember you got what you claimed you needed—that extra million. Now it’s delivery time.”

Josh considered Oliver’s statement an artful rewriting of history. Josh originated the idea behind Project San Juan on how to burrow in and take control of a client’s system. He suggested they unleash it on Lattigo Industries and embezzle the million dollars and transfer it through the Cayman Islands into Endicott-Meyers accounts so that they could in turn invest it in Premios. It was the perfect solution: it provided the extra investment at no cost to Meyers’ people and it should have forced Chip to head home and deal with all the signs that were pointing to his own crime. Unfortunately timing forced a different course.

Oliver was droning on. “We also need to see the full power of Dakota in action. We need to know that this software program is as powerful at mining personal data as you say it is.

“Soon,” Josh replied. “It will happen soon.”

“Soon better be within thirty days. We expect to receive a portfolio of details on your customers that proves interesting.”

“Just call it what it is. Blackmail.”

“Call it what you want. Just deliver the facts. If your tools are collecting all this data you claim and your algorithms are so strong at connecting the dots, it shouldn’t be hard—no one cares if you’ve got a big haystack and very few needles. Identify those needles.”

“Don’t worry, we can find them.”

“Good. Then do it.”

“And when we do . . . what then?” Josh needed to understand Oliver’s end game.

“Then we assemble all of your programs into Big Stick and put it to work. Wasn’t that always your idea?”

The concept was alluring, but knowing where such software integration might lead and given Oliver’s partners, Josh feared such a step would result in his being executed for treason. He needed a new kind of big stick that would be just his.

“Before you go Oliver, I need one other thing.”

Oliver was already standing. Having delivered his message he was eager to be on his way. “What’s that?”

“With Chip dead, we need to elect a new director to the board.”

“We already have a name.”

“Whoever it is, no. Your goals won’t work if this company doesn’t have a successful IPO. The market’s getting touchy. We need someone on the board who speaks to stability and vision. We need some one the bankers respect.”

“And I suppose you have a suggestion.” Oliver was nervous. Josh found that amusing.

“Barbara Linsky.”

Oliver was eager to leave. “Then go for it,” he snapped.

With that, Oliver was walking into the crowded paseo, just another Southern California tourist blending with the others. Josh watched the man slip through the crowd between the shops. He smiled.

“I got you now,” he thought.

The air smelled clean
. It always did whenever a strong rain rinsed the soot from the Los Angeles air. With the skies so clear, the hills to the north appeared close enough to touch. In the distance, the San Gabriel Mountains reflected the March sunlight and the snow on Mt. Baldy shone brightly. Sitting on the terrace of the twelfth floor offices of Premios, Danny was fulfilling his promise to Josh. For days Danny put off driving to the office to review and approve the final slate of the proposed new writers. He waited for a day when Josh was traveling, because lately he had started to find ways to avoid Josh. Kenosha’s story of Josh’s cruelty with the kid in accounting had wormed its way into his trust.

Even with Josh away, Danny chose to sit outside in the chilly air. He found it to be a neutral space. Kenosha brought him a large cup of coffee and a stack of folders. She reminded him that he could more easily read everything on his laptop, but he preferred the tactile reinforcement of dragging a yellow highlighter across paper or using a red pen to slash at poorly written prose.

But today Danny couldn’t concentrate. Even though the Premios employees deferred to his presence by not heading outside to smoke or gossip, office noise still surrounded him. All the daily sounds of business reminded him of Josh, who had created everything inside—and thinking of Josh only retrieved reflections on Kenosha’s tale.

The moment she told him about Josh’s prank, Kenosha tried to pull her story back. She looked as though she tattled on a favorite brother. It was too late. Long ago, Danny learned that once words were spoken they became uncontrollable living creatures.

Of course, he knew that every person had multiple facets. He also acknowledged that the personality Josh displayed toward him might not be the same for others. But Josh had always seemed loving, fun, and kind. Danny cast himself back to the wintry day when Josh first kissed him. Danny was just seventeen and so wary of the world, but along with Cynthia and Wally from the café, they took a trip to skate on the frozen flowage where Josh and Danny sped along the windswept ice, while the other two warmed themselves beside the bonfire on the shore. A hard freeze, combined with a winter of little snow, transformed the long stretch of the flowage into a natural ice track. The two boys made the most of it.

Danny still remembered the freedom of that day. It was the first-time joy of being with someone who made him feel alive. The low winter sun and even lower winter temperatures couldn’t detract from that high. When the two boys stumbled and fell entwined on the ice, Josh leaned down and kissed him without warning. Danny wanted to sing with joy.

When had Josh ever been cruel? As Danny peered toward the northern horizon, his mind retraced how the skating day ended. That was the afternoon Cynthia’s crazy teenage admirer—that rich Van Elkind kid—tracked her to the frozen flowage. The guy had been more than a little off, thinking he was destined to love Cynthia, but the misfit also loved to hang around Josh. Danny tried to remember just how Josh treated that unwanted admirer. Josh had been nice to the boy, hadn’t he?

The door from the office space opened, and he looked up, surprised to see Kenosha walk out with Barbara Linsky. Carrying a tray with a pot and two cups, Kenosha said, “Barbara stopped by unexpectedly. I thought the two of you might want to talk.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Linsky said, “but I was speaking to a users forum at the convention center, and I had some time before my flight east. It was my spur of the moment idea to stop by.”