Executive: A Thriller Read online

  She pulled the rest of the file folders in front of her and opened the first one.

  Angela Prescott, Vice President, Human Resources. Graduated with honors from San Francisco State University and held a master's degree in organizational development. The woman in the picture looked sure of herself, somewhat proud, smiling with confidence. A beautiful face with harmonious features, dark brown eyes, and wavy brown hair combed back, showing a large forehead with almost no wrinkles on it. Nice to meet you, Alex thought, while continuing to read. Her file indicated she was 47 years old and had been with the company for almost 15 years. Handwritten notes described a top performing human resources practitioner and an excellent leader and praised management initiatives she had implemented and organizational development initiatives she had led. Alex gave the photo one more look and moved to the next folder.

  Dustin Sheppard, Chief Technology Officer. Graduated with honors from California Institute of Technology (Caltech) in 1992; majored in science. He had significant course work and achievements in software development, and was published in science journals. The man in the photo was still attractive, yet cold and somewhat unfriendly. Completely bald and clean-shaven, he had a sharp appearance enhanced by a black shirt and self-assured attitude, radiating strength of a dangerous kind. He had the "all business" demeanor; he seemed efficient, focused, and procedural. The man who never smiles, Alex thought, moving to the next file.

  Benjamin Walker, Chief Operating Officer. Master of business administration (MBA), here was another executive dressed all in black, at least when the photos attached to his file were taken, another man who didn't ever seem to smile. Relatively handsome, but with ice-cold eyes and a reserved, yet vigilant mien, his appearance was that of a feline predator hiding in the shadows. Interesting specimen, Alex thought, closing Walker's folder.

  Chandler Griffiths, Chief Sales Officer. Another MBA, this degree was built on top of a bachelor's degree in marketing. He was the youngest executive so far—pure breed Ivy League, pale, with a fine moustache, and determined eyes. There was not a hair on his head either, most likely shaven clean to hide a receding hairline. Hair doesn't seem to last long around here, Alex thought. Chandler seemed all business, but in a different manner from Sheppard. He was less threatening. Alex could easily picture him selling to government agencies, discussing new technologies and research grants. His entire being radiated determination to succeed, a great attribute for a sales leader.

  Alex opened the last folder in the pile.

  Audrey Kramer, Chief Financial Officer. MBA and Certified Management Accountant. Here was the oldest executive on the team. She had a smiling face with tired eyes, and shoulder-length hair, bleached blond to cover the gray. Her roots were showing slightly, just enough to tell the story. Her picture revealed pale skin, somewhat wrinkled, which made sense for her age, well into her fifties. She seemed to have the coolness and mental power to lead the finances of such a complex operation through all kinds of hard times. Dressed in black. What else is new?

  Alex sighed and closed the last folder. She picked up the pile of folders and headed toward Tom's office, where the others were waiting for her to finish her review. This morning they were meeting for a brainstorming session. They wanted to take a look at the initial facts, then analyze and speculate on the causes and effects stemming from these. With a little bit of luck, she hoped to leave the session armed with some ideas and directions to help her get started on the right path.

  Tom's office door was wide open. He was comfortably leaning back in his leather chair, engulfed in the refined smoke of a cigar. Steve was standing by the open window, his features lit by the warm, spring sun. He was playing with the sunrays, casting shadows with the tip of his shoe on the various areas of the carpet pattern, deeply emerged in his activity.

  "I'm done," Alex said, "want me to close the door?"

  Tom nodded yes. "Any conclusions?" he asked.

  "No, nothing so far."

  "Alex, give us a summary, please," Steve said, moving away from the sunlit carpet near the window, in favor of a chair, closer to Tom's desk.

  "All right. So, this is what we know," Alex started, pulling up her notes. "There are five senior executives on Dr. Barnaby's team. There are hundreds of employees, 932 to be exact. I've reviewed in detail the files on the senior leadership team. There is nothing obvious in the personnel files to account for any of the complaints."

  "How about your gut? What does your gut tell you?" Tom asked.

  She searched his eyes, a bit hesitant.

  "Always look at things from all perspectives. While reviewing those personnel records, who did you like and who did you not like? That is how your gut speaks to you. Which one of those people would you invite into your home? With whom would you leave your kid?

  "Definitely I like Dr. Barnaby, I would have to say, although I know he is not the subject of this," Alex replied without thinking.

  "Yes, but you might also be correct. Your gut gave you a piece of information right there: probably none of these executives measure up to Dr. Barnaby. Who's your next favorite?"

  "That would be Chandler Griffiths, sales," Alex said, flipping though her files.

  "And next?"

  "I am hesitant between Kramer and Prescott, finance and human resources respectively."

  "So you did not like any of the two front-runners? That is interesting. Could you tell us why?"

  "I'm not exactly sure," Alex said. "They're both highly commended, have a lot of experience, and have exceptional credentials, so there are no valid rational reasons for this preference. I guess it's just my gut."

  "What else do you have?"

  "Not much. Not a conclusion, anyway. I do have a potential action plan."

  Steve pulled his chair closer to the desk, clapping his hands with excitement. "Great, let's hear it!"

  Alex started scribbling on the whiteboard. "We have four major issues that Dr. Barnaby brought to our attention: the handwritten note, fluctuating stock price, employee engagement, and potential issues with the products." As she was speaking, she was drawing on the whiteboard a table with four columns, each column titled by one of the issues. "Let's call these four issues the four key complaints, and number them one through four," she continued, picking up a red marker and numbering the columns. "Now let's talk about each one and see how, if at all, it correlates with the other key complaints." She picked the handwritten note from the table and quickly examined it up close. "Number one. We know it was sneaked into Dr. Barnaby's pocket, so we can assume the author was afraid to speak directly to Dr. Barnaby."

  "Or be seen speaking with him," Steve added.

  "Or be seen—that's a somewhat different story," Alex continued undeterred, "but we're still talking about fear." She wrote fear in the first column, right under the title. "Moving on to the note's content, we have a reference to people dying, which, to Dr. Barnaby's point, does not play like a threat. It sounds more like . . ." she turned and underlined the word she had just written on the board, "fear. Fear is also reflected by the note's content."

  Both Steve and Tom were listening, and both seemed to agree with her thinking. Tom was taking quick one-word notes, making Alex curious. Was she missing something? Was she wrong in her deductions? There was going to be a time to find that out later, after she was finished.

  "The note speaks of people dying," she continued, "so I would think it might be worth looking into past deaths involving, well, anyone connected to NanoLance. Employees, military personnel, civilians overseas, anything that could be related to NanoLance. My logic is that if a random employee was able to link people's deaths to the company, so could we."

  "What if the employee was not random? What if it's someone whose position with the company provides access to information, allowing him or her to link the events?" Tom asked, with his usual encouraging smile.

  "True," she conceded, blushing slightly, "I jumped to conclusions. I am sorry."

  Tom dismissed the apolo
gy with a wave of his hand.

  "We should still look into this," she said, turning to the whiteboard and writing the word death(s) right under fear. "Could be more than one dead," she said, justifying the potential plural of the word.

  "Yes, we should definitely explore this avenue," Tom agreed, jotting one more note on his pad.

  "We know Dr. Barnaby did not report the note incident, and we have no way to get fingerprints now, after the note has been through so many hands." She picked up the note from Tom's desk and continued. "Please stop this insanity or more people will die," she said, reading the note again, to refresh everyone's memory. "I noticed the polite addressing, leading me to believe the author doesn't consider Dr. Barnaby directly responsible for these deaths, but rather someone who has the power to change things for the better, if he is willing to learn what's wrong in the first place."

  "Interesting conclusion," Steve said. "What made you think that's the case?"

  "There's no negative feeling in the note toward Dr. Barnaby. There's no venom, no contempt. If the note's author thought that Dr. Barnaby is directly responsible for these deaths, I think the note would read more along the lines of 'stop this insanity, you irresponsible maniac,' or 'killer,' or whatever. At the very least, it wouldn't include the word please."

  "I think you're right," Steve said. "If there were a direct link between Barnaby and these deaths, the author's opinion would be directly accusatory toward him."

  "And more venomous. Let's not forget the note's author is risking something to try to stop the bad stuff from happening, so he, or she, is a good guy. Such a good guy would feel strongly against someone who's directly responsible for one or more deaths." She paused to look at the note again. "We can assume, by the fact that the note was handwritten in a hurry and crumpled, rather than folded, that the author was pressed for time. This spells out that the author saw an opportunity and quickly took advantage of it. He did not expect to come so close to Dr. Barnaby. Then it's safe to assume he doesn't usually come into contact with him; they do not roam the same corridors, nor do they casually meet by the coffee machine."

  She turned to the whiteboard again, writing and underlining at the bottom of the first column the word author, and under it the phrases good guy, not usual entourage, rare encounters, remote?

  "This could mean they only came in contact in passing, didn't even speak at the party." She turned away from the whiteboard and continued. "Do we have any possibility to do a handwriting analysis on this note? Can we use a lab or something? I'm not expecting much, but it might be worth it."

  "I'll see that it gets done," Steve said, taking a quick note on his pad.

  "Number two, the stock price issue, has me stupefied. The only things I can think of doing don't seem promising in terms of results. I could investigate each leak, and find out where the information came from, but without authority, it's highly unlikely anyone will reveal anything to me. I could look at old emails and communications dating back around those events, but I think that whoever did this was no idiot. Chances are they covered their tracks well. So, on this one I am stumped," she sighed, shrugging and looking down.

  "Chin up, Alex, if this was an easy job, anyone could do it," Tom said. "You did great on number one, on number two you need to change the approach."

  "How?" she asked.

  "Once you're going to be working for NanoLance, you'll have the time to observe. You'll be looking for motive and opportunity, and you will figure out who stands to gain the most from this maneuver. Then you'll piece the puzzle together."

  "I see," Alex said, without looking convinced.

  "When you presented the leadership team to us, you didn't like any of the front-runners, remember?"

  "Yes, that's true. But why do you consider Sheppard and Walker to be front-runners?"

  "Because they are the leaders in the succession race, the most likely choices for the CEO role, after Dr. Barnaby retires."

  "I see. Well, to some extent. I can understand why Benjamin Walker is a front-runner. As chief operating officer he is second in command, and it makes sense for him to be the successor. However, why would you consider Dustin Sheppard as a front-runner? He's chief of technology, and these executives rarely climb higher in the ranks, to the CEO role."

  "Questions are yet again wasted, Alex." Tom paused, allowing himself a long drag from his cigar, and then, slowly exhaling the smoke, he watched it twirl in the sunrays.

  "Ugh . . ." Alex's reaction brought a smile on Steve's face.

  "Again, you're not thinking. While it might be generally true that technology leaders seldom rise to the top level in corporations, the only exception to this rule happens in—"

  "Technology corporations. Duh!" Alex finished the phrase, with a frustrated smile. "I wasn't thinking. OK, so they're both front-runners. That means some fight over power could most likely exist; we need to consider that."

  "Or an alliance," Steve offered.

  "An alliance? How could that be serving both their interests?" Alex asked.

  "See how you're showing your true nature, Alex?" Steve said. "You wouldn't consider forming an alliance, then turning against your ally at the right moment and stabbing him in the back. However, any of these executives might consider doing just that."

  "What would keep both of them in an alliance? Wouldn't it be obvious for at least one of them that he's at risk of being screwed?"

  "Not necessarily. They might not think that far, or, most likely, if both of them believe they're smarter than the other, then they both think they stand a better chance of screwing their adversary first. They both could be thinking they're leading this game."

  "Nice attitude," Alex said, rolling her eyes.

  "Alex, why don't you continue your initial approach," Tom said, "let's move to the third issue on the list."

  "Right," Alex said, turning toward the whiteboard. "Employee engagement. What I have seen is that, on most categories, employee engagement is lower than the local and industry averages, just like Dr. Barnaby stated. I'm also encountering, in the comments, few usable entries. Some caught my interest, though. One stated—" she shuffled her notes and found the one she was looking for, "OK, here it is: 'Do you think I don't know we've got static IPs?'" She looked at Tom and Steve and saw the need to explain further.

  "An employee's so-called confidential entry in such a survey can be less than confidential in two situations. One is when he or she is alone or almost alone in a distinguishable category of the analyzed group. Let's say, for instance, that the manufacturing group gets the survey stats analyzed as a separate group, because they are large enough—they have hundreds of employees, so the assumption of confidentiality is realistic, due to the large number of entries. However, this survey is also geared to analyze data separately, within the group, by job level. Therefore, if the executive level, for example, has only three roles, let's say two directors and one vice president, their specific entries can be easily separated from the rest of the group, thus their confidentiality is compromised. Especially in the case of leaders, expressing less-than-stellar engagement is risky, and they know it. However, not all of them know their entries are not as confidential as the company is stating. This is one mode in which the promised confidentiality in such surveys is breached."

  She reached for her coffee cup and found it empty. She put it back on the desk, with a quick sigh. "The second one, the static IP this worker is referencing, is a bit more technical. All networked computers can obtain their IP dynamically, as in getting a new IP on each startup, or statically, where the machine has a well-defined IP that will remain associated with the specific machine and its user, even after the computer restarts. If the survey interface is set to capture IP addresses associated with individual entries, the confidentiality of the entries is compromised to the individual level, regardless of group and group size."

  "What's an IP?" Tom ventured.

  "Stands for Internet protocol, the rules under which a computer can function i
n a network. This set of rules contains an address that precisely identifies each networked computer."

  "Why would a confidential survey platform capture IPs?" Steve asked.

  "Generally there is some benefit from slicing and dicing the survey data by geographical area, therefore the functionality has been built in. There is also some expectation of ethics on behalf of the employer companies, so the survey service providers are not assuming their clients will abuse the confidentiality promise they make to their employees. If it happens . . . it's pathetic. But it does happen."

  She instinctively reached for the coffee cup again, then she stopped midway, remembering it was empty, just as empty as it had been a few minutes before. "Going back to this employee's comment, his statement reveals, again, fear." She stopped to write the word under the third column of her table, on the whiteboard. "Because of the lower than average scores, we can assume that employees are dissatisfied with their work environments, while some might even be disgruntled." She wrote dissatisfaction under the same column, and then continued. "Another entry states 'Are you serious???' The comment ended with three question marks, showing an emotional response."

  "What was the question?" Steve asked.

  "The question? What do you mean?"

  "What was the question these comments were answering?"

  "Oh. Yes. The question was 'Please give us your feedback on any concerns you have with your work environment. Your confidentiality is guaranteed.' So the emotional response may be toward the confidentiality guarantee."

  "Or toward the perception of futility of such efforts, or both," Steve said.

  "How do you mean?"

  "If the employee perceives that the feedback he is willing to give will fall on deaf ears, or be in the hands of a decision maker who is not interested in righting any wrongs, he would feel his efforts are futile, and he can decide to voice his disappointment. If, on top of that, the employee also perceives his willingness to give open and honest feedback as a potential career risk, he is even more frustrated. He can even feel insulted—insulted by the company's claim of confidentiality—which he knows is false—and the appearance of pursuing the employees' best interest—which he knows is hypocritical and deceitful. Hence, the emotional response. What do you think?" Steve asked, looking toward Tom.