The Fugitive's Trail (9 page)

Kruger nodded. He had the same concern.

***

JR sat on a sofa in his living room, Mia sitting next to him holding his hand.

Kruger sat across from him with a small digital recorder, and Joseph stood next to the fireplace. Kruger turned on the recorder and said, “It is September twenty-second, eight-thirty p.m., Springfield, Missouri. This is the testimony of the fugitive from an incident in New York City on February tenth of this year.” He stopped the machine. “Are you ready?”

JR nodded. Kruger turned the recorder back on and leaned back in his chair.

Springfield, MO

JR looked at Mia, took a deep breath, and said, “I met Tony Chien and Steve Wilson in college. We were all computer nerds. Tony and Steve wrote code and I debugged it. After college, Tony had the big idea, he asked Steve and I to join him. Those first few years, we’d work till two or three in the morning, crash, and start all over again at nine or ten the next morning. We had a blast.

“After our first program was released, Tony stopped programing and became our one-man sales department. Within six months, we had twenty people working for us. Steve was the genius behind all of the different products, and I was the guy who kept the programs working. We made a good team.

“About a year after we started, Tony had a meeting in Albany and bragged about me to some New York state senator. Not long after the meeting, I was asked to consult on the redesign of the state’s revenue and licensing software. That’s another story, I’ll get into later.”

Kruger said, “Is that how you were able to delete your driver’s license file?”

JR nodded. “I’ll explain it later, but yes, it was.” JR paused for a second and said, “Everything went great for the next nine and a half years. We grew to about a hundred employees. Tony was a great individual to work for and with. He paid well and shared the profits with his people. We all had shares in the company. Since I had chosen not to get into management, the number of shares I owned didn’t equal Tony’s or Steve’s.

“One day, Tony gathered ten of the individuals who had been with the company the longest, and had a meeting. Tony owned the majority of the stock and generally made most of the decisions. He would consult with Steve and a few others, but generally he made most himself. After he closed the door, he took a bottle of champagne from a small refrigerator and passed out plastic cups. He poured us all a small glass of the wine and said, ‘We have just made the big time. P&G Global has agreed to invest in our company.’ Steve shook his head and said, ‘Why are we celebrating? I’ve heard about them. They’ll destroy this company.’

“Tony shook his head and said, ‘I have it in writing. They plan to leave current management in place and provide needed equity for our next expansion.’

JR stopped and took a sip of water. He continued, “It was probably thirty days after our little meeting when we were all called into the company’s food court for a meeting. Did I mention how well Tony took care of his team? The food court was incredible. He contracted with ten local restaurants to operate satellite units in our building. We had everything: Italian, Tai, Chinese, pub food, vegan, and pizza. You name it, it was there. When I walked into the court that day, I kind of suspected something was amiss; all of the restaurants were closed. They never closed; we had people working all hours. Anyway, everybody was either sitting or standing around talking. We all grew silent when three guys in dark, expensive suits walked into the room. Tony was with them, but he wasn’t wearing a suit. Everyone grew quiet. One of the suits was Abel Plymel. He walked up to a microphone and asked for everyone’s attention. After the room was totally quiet, he said, ‘Good morning. My name is Abel Plymel, one of the principals for P&G Global. We would like to welcome all of you this morning to our first meeting under the new ownership group of CWZ Software’.

“Plymel smiled and looked around the room. He continued, ‘As most of you know, P&G Global purchased a majority of CWZ’s outstanding shares thirty days ago.’ After he said this, a murmur rose from the crowd. I looked at Steve Wilson, who was standing about five feet from me. His face lost all of its color and he had to steady himself by leaning against a table. Plymel droned on.

“This was when I looked at Tony. He was looking down at the floor as Plymel spoke. There was no smile on his face, just the look of a man whose soul had been ripped away. The only thing I could determine was that something had gone wrong when Tony signed the final papers.

“Plymel looked back at Tony and said, ‘I want to thank Tony Chien for his leadership at CWZ Software since its founding. Tony will be promoted to a position on the board of P&G Global. This will be effective immediately. He will also be consulting on new products for CWZ.’ Plymel started clapping and the room followed his lead. Tony managed a weak smile and waved to all of us.

“Plymel wasn’t through with all of the good news. He continued filling us in on all of the changes. He said, ‘Over the course of the next thirty days, we will be reviewing processes and strategies. We do know there are a lot of redundancies in the executive ranks. We will be making changes where it is deemed necessary. However, all of you out there are doing a magnificent job. We need you to keep doing what you do best.’

“With that statement, Plymel walked out of the room. He was followed by the other suits and Tony Chien. Funny thing, I never saw Tony again after that meeting. Several weeks later, it was announced that Tony had elected to resign from the board of directors and spend more time with his family. When I heard that, I laughed. Tony had been forced out, plain and simple. A week after that, Steve Wilson was gone. That was when I knew I needed to do something else.

“Two months after the gathering in the cafeteria, I was called to a meeting in the conference room next to the director of HR’s office. By the way, she had been replaced a week before. There were three individuals sitting side by side on the opposite side of the conference table from where I had entered. I had never seen any of them before. The man in the middle wore a dark suit, was probably early fifties, bald, except for a strip of gray hair circling his head, and his expression was grim. He didn’t smile or look at me. Two women sat on either side of him, their expressions were even grimmer. I don’t remember much about them, except one was older than the man and the other was younger. There was a large cardboard file box sitting on the right of the older woman. She asked my name and I told her. She reached into the box and pulled out a file and handed it to the man. He motioned for me to sit across from them and I said, ‘No thanks, I’ll stand.’ He stared at me and then referred to my file.

“He said, ‘It has come to the attention of upper management that your position within the company does not produce revenue or develop new products. Is this correct?’ I had already made the decision to leave, so I wasn’t in a very good mood. I said, ‘Yes, you’re right. I don’t sell nor do I develop. I just keep the programs we produce from screwing up and getting this company sued.’ I leaned over the table and got in the man’s face. ‘By the way, who the hell are you?’”

JR chuckled, shook his head, and looked at Kruger. “I knew why I was there. The rumor mill was working overtime. I was getting fired, along with fifteen other people.” He took another sip of water and continued, “The man stared at me like I was an infectious disease. He stammered and said, ‘I’m an outside HR consultant. Our names are not important. Now, if you will sit down, I will go over your options within the company.’

“I laughed at him and said, ‘What options? The midnight shift in Duluth?’ Baldy shook his head. ‘No, the position we are offering is in Atlanta.’ I looked at him, he didn’t get it. He really, truly didn’t get it. I decided I wasn’t going to play his game. So I said, ‘Hey Baldy, I’ve been here since the company started. I don’t need any shit from you or your two bimbos. Package me out and I’ll get the hell out of here.’”

JR chuckled again. “The silence was deafening. All three stared at me with their mouths open. Baldy recovered first. He said, ‘Well, I can see you want to be difficult. You will receive one week of salary for each complete year you’ve been with CWZ. You also have four weeks of vacation built up, which will be paid first. Do you have any questions?’

“I said, ‘Nope,’ and walked to the door. As I was opening the door, I looked back. They were already putting my file away and getting the next victim’s out. A security guard met me at the door, and I was immediately escorted out of the building.”

Kruger turned off the recorder, stood, and stretched. “That sounded pretty impersonal.”

JR nodded. “It was. They were just hired guns. They didn’t know us, nor did they care. Some of the employees at CWZ had given everything they had for ten hard years. Except for their stock, all they got at the end was a week’s salary for each year they worked. The smart ones sold their stock immediately. They came out okay. The ones that didn’t—well, let’s say they got screwed a second time when the stock crashed.” JR smiled. He got up and went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

They took a fifteen-minute break and then sat back down for JR to continue his narrative. Kruger turned the recorder back on, and JR picked up where he had left off. “What we didn’t know at the time was that Tony had sold P&G Global ninety percent of his personal shares. What Tony didn’t know was that Plymel had been buying publically traded shares for six months. By the time the sale closed, P&G owned fifty-two percent of all available stock. They had outmaneuvered Tony, and he lost his company. I haven’t talked to Tony since. He never returned my calls.

“Over the next six months, CWZ was hammered by lawsuits and their flagship software program lost market share. P&G Global moved customer service to India and outsourced the programing. Within a year of buying the company, they had dismantled it and made their initial investment back plus a huge profit. From what I found in Plymel’s computer files, they made a profit of over forty-million dollars by dismantling CWZ.

“Every single person I had worked with lost their job. Some went on to other careers; others found jobs with competitive companies. A few had their lives turned upside down.” He paused and stared at his cup of coffee and took a breath. “Steve Wilson was devastated. His wife left him and took the kids. A few months later, he committed suicide.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Kruger. “That one event affected me more than anything else. Steve didn’t deserve what happened. He was a really good guy. I still miss him.

“By selling my stock and combining it with my fourteen weeks of compensation, I had enough money to last a year. I was tired of the corporate scene, so I tried freelancing. That didn’t work so well. While I was trying to figure out what to do, I found a job delivering pizzas.” JR chuckled and shook his head. “I guess if I hadn’t, I would still be in New York City. One night, I delivered five pizzas to an apartment in Manhattan. Plymel answered the door. I think I hid my surprise, but I really don’t remember. He acted like a jerk and gave me a two-cent tip.

“After he slammed the door in my face, I didn’t get mad. I decided I would make it my mission in life to fuck him any way I could, mainly for Steve Wilson. It took a couple of days, but I came up with a plan. After quitting the pizza job, I got a job with a locksmith. It’s amazing how simple it is to pick a lock.” Kruger grinned after JR made this statement, but he kept quiet. JR continued, “A month later, I knew Plymel’s schedule—when he was at the apartment and when he wasn’t. Exactly eight months after I walked out of the CWZ offices, I was showing my ID and work order to the doorman of Plymel’s apartment building.”

Kruger stopped the recording. “JR, are you going to admit to breaking and entering?”

JR nodded.

“Okay, the tape is officially off. In fact, I’m resetting the recorder.” Kruger pressed a button, waited ten seconds, and put the recorder back in his backpack. “I really don’t want a recording of you confessing to a felony. But, I still want to know what happened.”

Kruger smiled, crossed his arms on his chest, and sat back. JR looked at Joseph, who smiled and nodded.

JR relaxed. “Plymel’s door was equipped with a very expensive lock, a brand we sold where I worked, so I was familiar with it. I was in the door in less than thirty seconds. It was a little after nine in the morning and Plymel had been gone for two hours. I gave myself exactly thirty minutes to accomplish what I needed to do.

“The apartment had been professionally decorated and everything looked expensive. Even the light switch plates looked expensive. There were real oil paintings on the wall in the vestibule. I’m not real knowledgeable in the world of art, but I know who Picasso is. The living area was filled with Persian rugs, very uncomfortable-looking furniture and a wet bar. The kitchen and dining area were to the left of the living area. I found his office on the opposite side of the living room.

“The laptop was sitting on a solid walnut desk that was larger than the Toyota I drove in college. I sat at the desk, opened the laptop, and as expected, it was password protected. Guys like Plymel are very organized and they like to think of themselves as computer savvy. But they’re usually not. I picked the computer up and looked on the bottom. Sure enough, there was the password. I took a flash drive out of my shirt pocket and slipped it into one of the USB slots. With a few keystrokes, a program I had written specifically for this occasion, downloaded. With a few more strokes on the keyboard, I erased all traces of the download. But, my program was still there, operating in the background. I closed the laptop’s lid, put the chair back like I had found it, and carefully let myself out of the apartment. I was in the apartment less than ten minutes.

“The downloaded program was designed to record all of his keystrokes and save them to a file. Then every twenty-four hours, it would email the file to an account set up specifically to receive the data. All traces of the file and email would then be deleted from his laptop.

“It took several days before the stealth program could record enough information to be useful. First I found Plymel was skimming funds out of P&G Global and locating those funds in offshore accounts. Second, I discovered Abel Plymel had an exit plan.”