MindField Page 8

  Glen frowned back. “I had no idea you were considering hacking their site, since you told us to not ask you questions. What you said to us was you were going to need just one day to fix the problem. Shit, man. Now we’re involved in illegal activities.”

  Harvey looked daggers at Glen. “As the movie Cool Hand Luke says, what we have here is a failure to communicate.”

  Glen turned away and tried calming himself but it wasn’t working. “Okay. Sorry. So, I sent an email and a certified letter to Lucessi’s firm. I think we’ll hear back from him soon.

  Samantha raised her head. “What if we don’t hear from them?”

  * * *

  Frank Lucessi had packed his suitcase. The next “client” expected him in less than two hours. He decided to check on his email before leaving to visit the next startup in San Francisco.

  And what he saw wasn’t an email from the next client. It was from the client he’d just finished with:

  Dear Mr. Lucessi,

  My cofounders and I have decided to rescind our agreement with you, offering us funding. The terms, specifically those related to ownership of our products in the event of our deaths, were too risky to our loved ones.

  Should you decide to continue to negotiate with us, we will be happy to meet with you once again.

  Frank could feel the heat in his face. Fuck! Fuck! He needed that client for him to reach his quota. He sat on the hotel bed and took several deep breaths. Calm down! Then he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and punched in Glen’s number. But when the call rolled into voicemail, it took nearly ten seconds for him to calm himself yet again. “Glen Sarkov, this is Frank Lucessi, I’d welcome another meeting, and I hope we can reconcile our differences. Please call me back at your earliest convenience.”

  Frank grabbed his suitcase and walked to his rental car. He headed north for his next meeting.

  * * *

  Jon Sommers checked into the Four Seasons Hotel Silicon Valley in Palo Alto. Avram told him that Cassie and Lee were staying at the Stanford Park Hotel in Palo Alto a few miles away. Jon figured he’d be less likely to draw attention to them if they stayed in different places.

  He dragged his rolling suitcase through the door into his room and set up a security system of measures and countermeasures. Some of it consisted of Cold War-era tricks like a thread placed into the doorjamb. Opening the door would drop the thread, and Jon would see if an intruder had entered his room from outside, before he opened the door. Others were more modern tech toys. He unscrewed an outlet box and placed a video cam behind the plate cover, then tested it and adjusted it to ensure it had a wide-angle view of the room. He installed a temperature sensor in the doorjamb to activate the video cam when the room’s temperature increased by one-fiftieth of a degree in under three minutes, and connected the video signal to his cellphone. He placed a canister of gas into the desk light and set it to go off if he transmitted a signal to the room using his cell.

  Then he took a brief nap to keep his body from experiencing jet lag.

  He was asleep when his cell buzzed against his belt. He saw it was from Cassie and answered the call. “Sommers.”

  “Hello, Jon. We’re at the Stanford Park a few miles from Ann’s apartment. Where are you?”

  “Four Seasons. What can I do for you?”

  “Please, a sitrep.”

  “Well, I’m at the very start of this mission. There are over three hundred venture capitalists on Sand Hill Road funding seed- and early-stage startups. And over three thousand potential “pretenders” for this project. I’ll be busy for at least a week vetting the turf.”

  “Lee and I can help. Would you like that?”

  “What do you want in return?”

  “Keep my daughter out of harm’s way.”

  Jon frowned. That would be harder than he’d originally thought. He knew Ann very well. She was always sporting for a fight. “I’ll try.” But he knew Cassie would realize he was lying.

  Chapter 11

  Four Seasons Hotel Silicon Valley,

  2050 University Avenue, East Palo Alto, CA

  September 15, 8:12 a.m.

  Jon Sommers heard his hotel room’s doorbell ring and put down his razor. He scanned the door with an app from his cellphone and saw the ID’s for Cassie and Lee. He opened the door, still holding a towel in his other hand. “Hello. Been almost a year. How are you two?”

  Cassie smiled. “Okay. We’ve been trying to civilize Evan but he’s resistant. A handful. Who knew a four-year-old could run your life.”

  Lee nodded. They both entered and closed the door behind them.

  Jon thought about his own parents. He’d been treated by them as if he was a prodigy, but they died when he was twelve. “Is Judy Hernandez watching him while you travel?”

  Cassie smiled. “Evan is now in a military preschool. I didn’t even know there was such a thing, but Lee’s father is former military and he advised we do it. When I declined, he went on a full-fledged campaign to have his way. Lee was useless in the argument. In fact, his father used Lee as the example of how the resulting person is more responsible.”

  She stared at Lee and he threw his hands into the air.

  “Dad’s right,” Lee said. “I learned to focus in military schools from ‘pre’ through West Point and Naval Post-Grad. Cassie and I talked it over and decided the school would provide better parenting than retired spies could. So, no. Judy is working for Avram on a special assignment right now.” He asked, “Need help with your selection for startups?”

  Jon nodded. “Well, make yourselves at home. Back in a minute” He walked back into the bathroom and continued getting ready to face the day.

  Cassie looked around the room. “Jon’s a very tidy man.”

  Lee nodded. “The Mossad trained him to not leave anything in place that could identify him or compromise his mission. Good to see he still maintains that discipline.”

  Jon opened the bathroom door and walked into the living room of his suite, dressed in a dark blue conservative suit and a white shirt, but no necktie. “So, here’s a pile of printed pages that have a description of each startup.” He unlocked the safe in the room and placed about five hundred pages of text on the desk.

  Cassie breezed through a handful of the pages. “Jon, what does Ann know about your mission?”

  “Nearly nothing. Just that in the case where the mission goes south, I may need her to expunge all traces of my visit by hacking me off every vidcam and every place I may have signed a credit card receipt.”

  Cassie breathed deeply in relief. “Good. What do you want us to do, exactly?”

  “Go through the records of each startup. Pick those that have a decent founding team and haven’t received offers as yet. When we have a population of five, we’ll try to see if we can convince them to act as “pretenders” for the Mossad. We’ll need them to accept the plans for a weapon and claim the plans are their own. We’ll target the three venture capitalists that we think might have stolen Mossad plans for an espionage tech toy, especially InTelQ. We’ll need to provide round-the-clock protection for each startup team. If we can determine who stole from the Mossad, I’ll take them out. Then, in return for the risk the startup cofounders endured, the Ness Ziona will fund their real project. That’s the plan.”

  Cassie thought for several seconds. “It’s full of holes. Do you have a whiteboard?”

  Jon shook his head. “Ben-Levy’s board is back in my condo in Manhattan. Sorry. We can call down to the main desk and they’ll send one up. Whatcha thinking?”

  Cassie sat on the desk’s chair. “First, if one or more of the startups rejects your offer, word will spread of your planned takedown. Silicon Valley is boiling over with gossip. VCs talk to each other. Startup teams also cross-pollinate just in case their current project tanks. No way to contain the gossip. We need to ‘buy’ a team or create our own. Second, the amount of cash required to nudge a team into accepting what they will see as a dangerous project is well pa
st trivial. Just normal seed rounds these days will draw tight the Mossad’s purse strings. Once again, we might need to coerce a team, not just attract them.”

  Jon turned away and stared out the window. “Yes, of course. You’re correct. Avram’s plan won’t work. Let’s try to find some weak teams with a single star and try to separate them from their team. Think that might work?”

  Cassie looked to Lee, but he just shrugged. “Don’t know. But let’s try that.”

  Jon nodded, but he was beginning to assume his lack of experience with the Silicon Valley startup world might doom the mission.

  Chapter 12

  Stanford University quadrangle,

  Palo Alto, CA

  September 15, 10:46 a.m.

  Ann found a sunny spot where there was an empty bench at a corner of the quad. She dreaded her next class: economics. It would be starting soon. The sunshine and warmth of the day brightened her as she pulled her notebook computer from her book bag and reviewed the notes for today’s assignment. She’d need about an hour to research and then write the project. Between that and her other classes, her day would be full.

  She checked her email and saw a note from Jon:

  Ann—

  Your parents arrived and we’re starting on the mission Avram assigned me. I have your parents’ permission to outline what we’ll all be doing, so you’ll know what to expect. If things go south, there are three potential times when the use of your talent would be life-saving. When can we meet?

  I’ll only need a half hour.

  —Jon

  Ann frowned. More time than she actually had. Something else would have to be postponed. She called Jon’s cell.

  “Jon here.”

  “Hello, hero. I’m pretty much filled to capacity today. Can we do this over the phone?”

  “No. Absolutely not. Phones aren’t secure. When can I steal a few minutes? I’m less than a mile away.”

  Ann thought that if she visited Jon in his hotel room, she might see her parents, possibly turning a half-hour meeting into an all-day excursion. “My apartment.” She gave Jon the address. “How about right after lunch? Figure 12:30? I have a class at 1:00. Okay?”

  “Yes. See you then.”

  Ann knew Laura’s class schedule. Laura had a class starting at 12:30 and it would go for at least ninety minutes. Jon and Ann could speak privately. The apartment would do quite well.

  She opened her internet browser and Microsoft Word, and took notes for the assignment today, comparing the latest VPN software to the product it would likely displace.

  * * *

  Laura Hunter touched the canvas and the sensation of old oil paint took her breath away. The painting was nearly four hundred years old and in need of restoration. She knew the university wouldn’t let a sophomore do the work, but being assigned as an assistant to the restorer would be a high point in her credentials. She’d have to compete with three other students, and from what she knew of them, it was possible she might be picked.

  “Who can tell me what the elements are in the pigment used in the blue sky?” The restorer scanned the four faces.

  Laura didn’t know the answer. She thought hard in the growing silence. One of the other students raised his hand to respond.

  By the time the class had ended, Laura had been able to answer only three of the twenty questions the art restorer asked. Each of her competitors had done much better.

  She left the classroom knowing she had blown a chance at being the bright young star of the class. It was 1:35. Perhaps this was the end of her ambition to be a rising young painting restorer. She headed back to her dorm room, her lack of knowledge like a storm cloud following her.

  * * *

  On Howard Street in downtown San Francisco, Frank Lucessi shook hands with each of the biochemistry startup members in the UCSF cafeteria and packed away the signed contracts in his French-edge leather attaché case. He smiled, more to himself than to the others, and headed to the elevator.

  His car was waiting for him in the parking garage. If he could manage it, this would be the time to set an appointment with Glen Sarkov and the rest of the MindField cofounders and finally get that piece of business put to bed.

  He punched in the number of Glen’s cell and heard it ring once. “Sarkov.”

  Frank took a deep breath. “It’s Frank Lucessi. Have you received the changes you want made to the contracts from your corporate attorney?”

  “Uh, yeah. They’re in my hand.”

  “I’m in San Francisco right now. Please read them to me.”

  He listened as Glen read less than one hundred words.

  “I’ll need them included in new documents, so give me to the end of today. When can we meet tomorrow?”

  Glen said, “How about 10 a.m.?”

  “Good. How about in the Stanford cafeteria again?”

  When Glen agreed, Frank ended the call. He’d be stuck on the Peninsula again tonight. As a treat, he booked himself a room at the Four Seasons Hotel in East Palo Alto. Then he made another call. “Hello, Laura. It’s Frank.”

  “Oh. I was wondering if I was going to hear from you again.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m in town for what I’m thinking will be my last night this trip. I’d like to take you to dinner again. Are you interested?”

  “Sure. Pick the place. I’ll be ready at six. Meet you at the cafeteria then. Okay?”

  Frank agreed as the elevator reached the lobby. If he was lucky, he might reach Palo Alto before the rush-hour traffic nightmare.

  * * *

  Glen waited in the cafeteria. One-by-one, his cofounders arrived. Each bought coffee or a snack and sat at the table with him. He turned his notebook computer so the others could all see the screen. “Ladies, gentlemen, here is the revised contract. Mr. Lucessi will meet with us tomorrow at 10 a.m. to sign them with us, or if you have a class at that time you can sign today. Lucessi agreed to the revision that Mr. Marotta crafted for us. So, we’re good to go. Next week we should all schedule some time to open a corporate bank account and look for office space.”

  All of the others smiled back. Even Harvey, who was dour at the best of times.

  * * *

  Ann heard the doorbell ring. It was 1:40 p.m. Jon was late. She opened the door and saw Jon smiling at her.

  Ann smiled back, “Okay, come on in. So now we can talk, but probably only for a few minutes before my roommate returns. What’s the project and where would I be useful?”

  “The mission. Not just a project. Avram was told by Sam Meyer, the current director of the Mossad, to send a team to Northern California. The Mossad’s analysis section believes that a venture capital firm has gone rogue and is signing contracts with startup teams, and when the team has completed product design and begun production, the team simply disappears and the product becomes the property of one of the world’s intelligence services. I’m ‘the team.’ Just me. I’ve been asked to recruit a set of cofounders for a product that could easily be weaponized, and follow them closely as they attempt to secure venture funding, then review the contracts to see if there’d be an easy way to obtain the rights from the cofounders once they’re gone. Dunno how many vultures there are in the community, but I’m thinking there are at least several.”

  He stared at Ann, and she nodded. “Good. So, if my cover gets blown, I’ll need you to help me backstop one of my alternative identities on the fly so I can get away cleanly. Assuming we get to the next phase, I’ll need to have a way to neutralize each of the guilty venture capitalists. Drain their bank accounts, set up each of their execs with arrest warrants, and possibly terminate a few if that’s what Meyer wants. Finally, I’ll need an alternate way of contacting Avram, and through him, Meyer. Something cryptographic and not easily cracked. I’m assuming you could help out with each of those, and without your getting into serious danger. Correct?” He placed his notebook computer on her kitchen table and turned it on. He entered the password and it booted to completion

&nb
sp; Ann nodded again. “Right, then. If you think we need more time, I can spare another ten minutes. Make yourself at home. There’s warm coffee in the pot.”

  Jon nodded. “I’ll be back after I use the restroom.” He walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

  Ann smiled. He’d just given her a subtle invitation to see what was on his notebook computer. And, she hadn’t even had to ask. She sat and pulled a thumb-drive from her pocket. She placed it into one of the USB ports on Jon’s machine, and when the computer asked what to do with the drive, she keyed Run Program. The list of programs on the thumb drive was a single line: RatWorm. She highlighted it and hit Confirm. The program took less than two seconds to load. She pulled the thumb-drive from Jon’s notebook and pocketed it.

  A few seconds later, Jon reemerged. “Are we all ready?”

  “Yes. I know what you want, and I’ll be available when you text me. Send the word “Now,” and I’ll come back with “Sure.” After that, you can send me instructions by text. Use the Signal app to make sure we’re secure when we communicate. Okay?”

  Jon nodded and smiled. “Well, that didn’t take long. Welcome on board, and thanks.”

  Ann smiled back and Jon left her apartment. She walked to her desk and opened her own notebook computer. RatWorm had dropped a copy of all of Jon’s files onto her notebook. She scanned Jon’s notes on the mission. The plan, its background, and a note stating that any black ops which might be required were already acknowledged and approved.

  As she read through the notes and the associated documents, she saw Glen’s name was third from the top of the list of entrepreneurs Jon was considering as “pretenders.”

  “Fuck this,” she muttered. No possible way my boyfriend is gonna become target practice.

  PART II

  One thing VC’s never talk about is how screwed founders get.

  —Mark Suster, speech at DogPatch Labs,

  April 5, 2011

  Chapter 13