"I don't know how I can work for you in this situation. I will finish this client, because it was me, personally, who looked Dr. Barnaby in the eye and promised to help him, but then I'll be on my way. Until you can learn to trust. Because, you see, if you don't trust me, then you don't have my back, and I can't do a job like this on my own." She stopped her rhythm of angry, pain-ridden short phrases, and took a few gulps of cold beer. It felt great to have all that off her chest.
A heavy silence took ownership of the backyard, with the exception of birds and crickets chirping.
"Tom, you better get this young lady another beer," Claire interrupted the silence, "and pray that she forgives you, or you won't be able to forgive yourself."
"Hear, hear," Steve said, from a distance, raising his bottle in a toast.
Tom reached toward the cooler and grabbed another beer. He opened it and offered it to Alex.
"I'm sorry I didn't trust you. I hope, in time, you'll be able to forgive me and rely on me again. If it were anything else, I wouldn't have doubted you for a second. When it comes to drugs, I… I just lose my judgment. I am truly sorry."
"But, we were looking into the facts about what happened to you," Brian chimed in, "and we've figured it out."
"What?" Alex turned to him, filled with curiosity. "You know, I was positive on the drug test, but I have never touched any drugs in my life."
"That you know of," Brian said.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"We found methamphetamine in your coffee filter and more meth in the coffee jar next to it. Someone in your office is rigging your coffeemaker."
"Oh, my God! Who the fuck would do that to me? Am I already addicted?"
"I don't think so," Steve approached, "you've taken small quantities for too little time. If you were starting to feel edgy or restless, that should go away in a day or two."
"Just this past week, when you were here, you were acting a bit strange — on the edge," Claire said, "and you wouldn't eat your burger. We blamed it on the work-related stress that I'm sure you're experiencing, but it seems some chemicals might have been contributing to that after all."
"Oh, crap," Alex said, "I hope I'm not hooked. Only yesterday, I had coffee from that machine. When I get back to the office on Tuesday, I will take the damn machine outside and set it on fire."
Brian chuckled.
"No, you can't do that," Tom said. "You'll have to pretend that you're unaware of the source of the drug. You'll have to prepare coffee and drink it every day, just like you usually do. Well, don't really drink it; pour it in down a drain somewhere, where no one sees you. The person who tried to frame you will be watching."
"How come I didn't see it? How come I didn't notice any white powder in my coffee?"
"It's easy to miss, especially in the dark closet where you have your coffeemaker stashed," Brian said. "And it wasn't that much."
"And what's going to happen when I get back to the office? Whoever set me up will see me waltz right in there… then what?"
"Maybe we could use that moment of surprise to find out a few things," Richard said, approaching the group.
"How do you think we can pull this off?" Tom asked.
"What if we start Tuesday with an executive meeting and videotape it. Then we have Alex enter, say, ten minutes after it starts. Maybe we can catch a glimpse of surprise on the face of the person who orchestrated all this. For such an elaborate plan, there must be a connection to someone on the executive team, I can guarantee that. No smaller rank would've had the reason, or the guts, to devise such a bold and complicated plan."
"She's got to enter from the front of the room," Steve added. "To ensure that everyone sees her at the same time. We have to use a conference room with the door in the front of the room. Most rooms have the doors behind the seats."
"That makes sense, but it will pose issues," Alex said, "there's no such conference room that I know about."
"I'll call Dr. Barnaby, and we'll figure out a way," Tom concluded. "It's good we have all day on Monday to set this up."
"That's what long weekends are for," Brian said, and everyone laughed.
"We've got something else for you," Tom added, "the analysis on the written note just came back."
"Sure took a long time," Alex frowned.
"Thank you kindly, ma'am," Richard bowed in her direction. "I only had to compare it with more than 950 different handwritten applications for employment or benefits, and all that was done in the dead of the night."
"Oh, I'm sorry…" Alex blushed. "I didn't mean to be… inconsiderate."
"It's OK," Richard said. "It did take a long time; that's true. Initially, we concluded the author of the handwritten note is most likely a woman. That's what the expert in graphology said. From that point, we moved to compare the note with handwriting samples taken from benefits enrollment forms and applications for employment. We wanted to be confident in our findings, so we compared the handwriting with the entire NanoLance employee population, not just the women. The author is Janet Templeton, director of manufacturing quality at the Alpine plant. This confirms the theory that the note's author rarely has the opportunity to meet Dr. Barnaby."
"I think I met her… But we can't just question her," Alex said.
"No, we can't," Richard confirmed. "However, we can create an opportunity for her to open up and have an unsuspecting dialogue with you."
"How?" Alex wondered.
"Her Facebook page has helped us a lot," Richard continued. "We found that she is looking at buying a Rottweiler puppy, female, and that the dog had got to be perfect. She is single, our Janet, lives alone, and she just lost her Rottweiler, named Alma, of twelve years. She is heartbroken."
"How are we going to use all this information?" Alex continued to ask questions, still unclear on the strategy.
"Simple. We're going to help her find the puppy dog of her dreams, the best Rottweiler there is to find. That's where you two are going to meet, at the breeder's house."
"You have already found a breeder with Rottweiler pups?" Alex asked in disbelief.
"Yes, the stage is prepped. We were lucky on the breeder thing, simply lucky. We didn't have to travel to buy an entire litter of puppies to set this up. No… We were just unbelievably lucky. There's a Rottweiler breeder with six-week-old puppies who lives a few miles away from the plant. The breeder is going to get some free advertising through the NanoLance intranet. Flyers have been already posted at the Alpine plant café. Bait is set."
…57
Who's in Control of Our Skies? The Flying Robots Saga Continues
By Neil Bocci, editor-in-chief
Some of us might still remember when the first drones started flying in our skies; voices of concern rose and were silenced. No, we were not heading for a Terminator world ruled by heartless, ungraceful chunks of metal. No, we were not giving up any of our rights and liberties if the skies were to be patrolled by drones. No, the drones would not invade our privacy; they weren't meant to be spies in the skies. Finally, yes, these drones are perfectly safe and at all times under the control of a human being.
But are they? Both safe and under control? The recent slew of events raises this legitimate concern.
The April incident in Kandahar, Afghanistan, responsible for the loss of four lives, is still being investigated. The US military still owes our Canadian allies an answer, to bring closure to them and much-needed changes in the manner that drones are operated. Three-and-a-half months later, we still have no definitive answers to any of our questions.