12

NanoUSA

27 February

Tuesday, 11:45 a.m. local time

Simone was escorted through glass doors and into Robert Maxwell’s office suite by a twenty-something California girl who introduced herself as Jen and whose über-tanned skin announced that she spent long hours at a tanning salon. This was Silicon Valley, not LA. That meant a cool, often rainy February. Not exactly beach weather. So the tan was fake. The cordial treatment was real. Actually, her attitude was more than merely cordial, Simone noted. She was exuberant. And while the cordiality was directed at Simone, the exuberance smacked of something that had little to do with Jen’s role at Nano. Simone recognized the signs. A sparkle in her eyes, a lilt to her step, not to mention the vase of fresh flowers on her desk—clearly Jen was in the throes of a new relationship.

With a glowing Jen leading the way, Simone shifted her focus, using this opportunity to survey the extensive work space surrounding Robert Maxwell’s closed office door.

There was a teak sitting area that looked more like a living room, a boardroom that was currently empty but that could easily seat thirty, and an elaborate food preparation area designed to serve elegant cuisine to powerful people.

At the rear of the suite, there was one other closed-door inner sanctum—smaller, but stationed right beside Maxwell’s—with a gold name plate that said Zoe Pearson on it.

The hierarchy here was crystal clear.

Jen knocked on Robert Maxwell’s door.

“Come in,” a strong voice responded.

Jen opened the door halfway and gave her boss a bright smile. “Ms. Martin is here to see you.”

“Thanks, Jen. Send her in.”

Robert Maxwell rose from behind his circular chrome and glass desk, walking around to shake Simone’s hand. He was tall and broad-shouldered, a good-looking man who clearly worked out and paid attention to his appearance, as was evidenced by his neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, his perfectly creased slacks—sans the jacket and tie, which were folded on the back of his executive desk chair—and his trim physique. He also had a ready handshake. But his demeanor and appearance belied the intensity that ran underneath. Maxwell had built this company with toughness and grit in a highly competitive industry. He was not to be trifled with.

Simone had done her homework and thoroughly researched Robert Maxwell. Professionally, he was highly respected throughout the industry. He was a frequent speaker at Stanford University, teaching and encouraging MBA students who had aspirations of working in the technology sector. He attended conferences and seminars worldwide to keep up with his ever-evolving world. And he worked tirelessly at his job, never asking more of his employees than he did of himself.

Personally, he was an avid golfer. He had a wide range of hobbies and interests, including bicycling, as was evidenced by the bicycle helmet sitting on the credenza behind his desk. And he had a family who was significant in his life.

All excellent motivations for a healthy sixty-three-year-old man to release groundbreaking cutting-edge technology and then move on to the next stage of his life. That, however, didn’t mean he planned to totally bow out of Nano, not after all these years. The interviews of him that Simone had read reflected his fierce commitment to his company, as well as his total confidence in his staff—a staff he had vetted well and hired because they were the best. He demanded loyalty and gave equal amounts in return. And it wasn’t BS. Simone could attest to that fact after spending half a day within these walls. Despite the more informal business attire and less rigid behavior she’d encountered—not a surprise, given that this was California and not New York City—NanoUSA had a small, tight-knit company feel—atypical for a high-powered corporation.

A culture such as that could only originate from its leader.

Simone knew in her gut that the idea of a mole would be unthinkable to Maxwell. Finding the culprit would be hard enough, but proving his or her guilt to Maxwell and then dealing with his inevitable sense of betrayal… Simone wasn’t looking forward to that part of her job.

“Good to meet you, Ms. Martin,” Maxwell was saying, his gaze flickering quickly over her. “Vance has spoken very highly of you.”

“As he has of you.” Simone almost laughed at the typical male once-over she’d just received. Why was it that men never realized a woman knew when she was being physically assessed?

Taking advantage of Maxwell’s obvious approval of what he saw, she added, “Please call me Simone.”

“Only if you call me Robert.” He smiled, a charming and enveloping smile rather than a practiced one. It made him look years younger than sixty-three. Despite his awareness of an attractive woman, he wore his wedding band, and his enormous office was filled with family photos—his wife, his kids, and his two granddaughters, who looked to be about two years old and six months respectively.

“What can I get you?” he asked. “Coffee, tea, water?”

“Water would be wonderful, thank you,” Simone replied. “I’ve been chatting with your staff for over four hours now and had more cups of coffee than I can count. Any more and I won’t sleep for a week.”

“I hear you.” Robert strode over to a built-in fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. “Here you go.” He handed one to Simone and then gestured at one of the two ivory-colored leather sofas that were situated adjacently in one corner of the office. “Please. Have a seat.”

Simone sank down into the grained leather. She opened her bottled water and took a healthy swallow before settling herself, crossing one leg over the other. She opened her Louis Vuitton document holder and prepared to take notes as Robert took a seat on the other sofa.

“I hope my staff has been accommodating,” he said with the certainty of a CEO who knew the answer would be yes.

“They most certainly have. They’re an exceptional group. Very upbeat. Very excited about all the new developments happening at Nano.”

“So how’s the process going?”

“Exactly as I expected. I’ve only met with a handful of people, but preliminarily it seems as if there are some disconnects in opportunities to streamline and refocus efforts. I’ll have a better-defined picture in a few days. Once I’m finished, Vance will have a clear action plan to get his organization ready for functioning without him when he succeeds you.”

Robert’s brows rose. “That’s a pretty bold statement. No comment.”

“Your deflection is all I needed to hear.”

“I don’t deal in rumors. Who’s been spreading them?”

“No one. This is my interpretation of the emerging fact pattern.”

Simone had rehearsed that part well. With Robert aware that she’d deduced the truth, he’d be less apt to be suspicious of her subsequent questions or the avenues she was pursuing.

“I see that McKinsey chooses its people wisely.” That much Robert acknowledged. “I hope the results warrant the exorbitant fee we’re paying you.”

“Compliment accepted. I’ll let my work speak for itself. And speaking of work, I requested this time with you so I could ask you a few questions that only you can answer.”

Robert inclined his head and waited.

“Let’s talk about the politics of your direct reports and how succession planning influences that. I know you’re reticent to discuss change at the helm of the company, so let’s approach this as a hypothetical and discuss succession plans that I’m sure are in place here, in the event that they’re needed. Should you choose to retire, who in the company is in line to succeed you? Would the board prefer to appoint your successor from within the company or go outside? And since there’d only be one winner in this Tour de France, how would each one of the people on your list respond to losing?”

Robert didn’t look happy. “Why are we talking about succession planning when the reason for your consulting engagement is to improve the functioning of the manufacturing department?”

“Sometimes dysfunction is intentional and orchestrated at the request of other department leaders. If someone wanted to undermine Vance and his department, they might use their department and its resources to make the manufacturing team seem less competent and capable.”

“Okay.” Robert eased up a bit, since he was unable to argue with Simone’s logic. “I’ll answer your hypothetical questions. Assuming I was considering stepping down as CEO, let’s start with Vance, your odds-on favorite to win the race. He’s been with me since the beginning. This company wouldn’t be where it is today without him. I think he would be an excellent choice.”

“And if the board disagreed with you, how would he respond?”

“That’s a tough question,” Robert said, stroking his beard pensively. “I think any candidate on the list would be hugely disappointed. As soon as word got out, the candidates not selected for the position would immediately be solicited by executive recruiters and competitors looking to upgrade their talent pool. As to whether or not my executives would jump ship would depend on how enticing those offers were. If one were offered the CEO slot at a good company, I wouldn’t blame them for taking it. If this was a future promise, that’s a more difficult call.”

Simone nodded. “Whether it was Vance or someone else, would the board prefer to pick someone internally?”

“In this case, yes. The future of Nano is its technology, and having an intimate knowledge of it and its potential is critical. If the names on the successor list were weak, that might be less important. But all of my people are strong, capable, and worthy. So, yes, I believe they would choose an internal candidate.”

“Can you tell me who those candidates might be—other than Vance, of course?”

“Sure.” Robert shrugged. “It’s hardly a secret as to who my top reports are. Lawrence Blockman, my VP Engineering, June Morris, my CFO, and Aaron Malcolm, my VP Sales.”

Excellent. All people she’d spoken with—and formed opinions about—this morning.

“One last question and I’ll be on my way,” Simone said. “If Vance were to be your successor, who would be his?”

Robert sucked in a breath. “I’m very uncomfortable with this treason route you’re taking.”

“Treason is a very strong word. I’d call it politicking. And I understand your discomfort. But my tactics are rooted in necessity, not suspicion.”

“Then I suggest you run that question by Vance, not me. It’s his department and his choice. I’m just the final say.”

Nodding, Simone rose. “I appreciate your time. If it’s acceptable to you, I’d like to meet with both you and Vance in a few days once I’ve completed my interviews and had the chance to organize my proposal.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“Which of your employees handles your calendar? I’ll set up an appointment on my way out.”

“Talk to Jen. She’ll be able to schedule it. But double-check it with Zoe when you interview her today. If there’s a meeting I’ve forgotten about, she’ll be aware of it since she’s probably attending.”

Simone silently noted that Robert was aware of her interviewing schedule. She hadn’t mentioned that she’d be talking to Zoe later today.

“Do Zoe’s professional responsibilities extend beyond being your personal assistant?” she asked instead. “Or does she attend meetings for note-taking purposes?”

Robert shook his head. “I’m working on coming up with a new title for Zoe. She’s been with Nano for fifteen years and managed to earn an MBA despite the long hours she works here. She’s sharp and she’s smart, more of a junior executive—as well as my right arm—than anything else. I frequently elicit her input, so, yes, she does attend meetings for reasons other than note-taking. On the flip side, I doubt I could find the elevator without her.”

“She sounds indispensable.”

“She is.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Simone said with a smile.

Her afternoon interview with Zoe Pearson could turn out to be more interesting than expected.

Sava River Walk, Zagreb, Croatia

27 February

Tuesday, 9:30 p.m. local time

The sky was overcast and the air was chilly, with snowflakes darting about and a fine sheen of ice shimmering on the bare trees that lined the Old Town side of the Sava.

Marc and Philip shook hands with Chief Police Inspector Danijel Horvat and joined him on a stroll in their prearranged location along the river walk. The Sava itself was unfrozen, smooth and serene, glistening in the darkness, and the area they were walking on was dark and shadowed, its benches deserted. Across the Sava they could see the newer side of Zagreb, lights illuminating the apartment buildings where many, including Danijel, lived.

It was clear why he’d chosen this spot for their meeting, especially given the sensitive information about to be discussed.

“Thank you for setting this up on such short notice,” Marc began. “Not that my brother gave you much choice, I’m guessing.”

A small smile played on Danijel’s lips. He was a tall man, with Mediterranean coloring, dark brown hair, and Slavic features.

“Your brother is persuasive, yes,” he replied. “But he’s also one of the finest men I know. You resemble him. Being that he sent you here, I suspect that resemblance goes far deeper than the physical to the character beneath.”

“I like to think so.”

Danijel turned toward Philip. “And your dossier speaks for itself. As does your history with Aidan. I’ll help you both in any way I can.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m sure Aidan has filled you in on the fact that I’m head of the General Police Directorate’s Organized Crime Division, or PNUSKOK, as it’s called here in Croatia, as well as the fact that I worked on an Organized Crime Task Force with Europol. I have a wide range of contacts, both national and international—any of whom I have and will continue to reach out to with the utmost discretion, given the delicacy of your investigation.”

“You’ve already put out feelers?”

“The moment I hung up the phone with Aidan, yes. I’m waiting to hear back.”

“Just so we know, how much did Aidan tell you?” Marc asked bluntly.

Danijel looked unsurprised by the question. “He made it quite clear that my involvement is on a need-to-know basis. Therefore, I’m only privy to the international aspects of your investigation. I accept that. But if you want my help, you must accept that you’re going to have to be as forthcoming with me as possible, as well as open to my taking the lead in any face-to-face interviews and questioning with confidential informants that might arise. I’m a native. You’re foreigners. It becomes an issue of trust. In addition, while English is now taught as a second language in my country, that was not the case years ago. Few residents over the age of fifty can speak it. Even now, German, Italian, or Russian are often the second languages taught rather than English. Some regions teach no second language. So my translation skills will also be essential.”

“We understand.” Marc shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “But in the interest of full disclosure, you should know that we brought two Croatian interpreters with us. Obviously, they won’t be at the meetings you set up, but one of the two will be listening from the car and translating into our ears while you conduct the interviews. That will minimize how detailed you need to be in your back-and-forth explanations between your informants and us and allow you to concentrate on the nuances of the arrangements.”

“I see.” Danijel processed that and then nodded. “I can live with that. What about your other interpreter—what will be her role?”

Philip cleared his throat, thinking that while Derica was handling the CI meetings, Ellie could be used for less legitimate purposes—such as translating Albanian emails or texts that the team intercepted through whatever means they deemed necessary. “I think that’s part of our process you’d prefer not to know.”

“Very well.” Danijel dropped the subject. “You just spoke of yourselves in the plural. Understand that it will be only one of you gentlemen who’ll be accompanying me to each meeting. You can switch off if you like. That’s your choice. The other can remain in the car with your interpreter. Informants either shut down or bolt when they’re approached by more than one unknown quantity. They know me. They don’t know you. So it’s one at a time.”

“Fine. When it comes to the CIs, you’re in charge,” Marc agreed, knowing he spoke for Philip, as well. Danijel had the expertise, skills, and contacts that were necessary to pull this off.

“Good. Then I’ll have the necessary conversations with my CIs and we can move forward.”

“As I’m sure Aidan told you, the young woman we’re searching for has only a few days left before she’s killed,” Philip stated flatly as he trudged along, stones crunching beneath his feet. “The clock is ticking. We must fast-track this, through any means necessary.”

“Yes, Aidan made that clear.”

“Just so you know, we drove directly from Munich, where the victim was kidnapped, to Zagreb, where our computer data indicated was the probable refueling location before the kidnappers transferred the victim to her current place of confinement. Once we arrived in your city, we located a Lukoil station off the A2 whose owner remembered the Mercedes van we identified as the escape vehicle. So we confirmed that the subjects travelled through Zagreb. Now we need to figure out where the victim is currently being held.”

“It’s doubtful the kidnappers would choose an urban location for their place of confinement,” Danijel said. “My suspicions are that we’re looking into more remote districts.”

“That’s where we need your guidance,” Philip responded. “Where would they go to remain undetected? And what specific Albanian organized crime groups would you narrow this operation down to? Is there one that’s more apt to handle kidnappings?”

“That last question will send you down a blind alley.” Danijel waved his hand dismissively. “Albanian crime groups don’t restrict themselves to one line of work, or to one country. Drug, arms, and human trafficking—not to mention the trafficking of human organs—they don’t care what their assignment is or who they work for as long as they get paid. They’re mercenary and they’re brutally violent. They’re also widespread. They operate everywhere from the Balkans to England and the Netherlands.”

“Really?” Marc’s brows rose. “That’s more expansive than I realized.”

“Some of that branching out is recent, particularly in the Netherlands,” Danijel replied. “As to the Albanian crime groups operating here in Croatia, those are greatly diminished after a large number of arrests that have taken place over the past several years. That doesn’t mean they don’t still exist. With regard to the groups that continue to operate in my country, I obviously have knowledge of their activities. But given we need particular specifics from an insider’s point of view, I’m waiting to hear back from my less legitimate sources.” His brows rose quizzically, seeking confirmation. “Aidan mentioned that you would be bringing cash to help them talk more freely.”

Marc nodded. “The money is in American dollars. We couldn’t risk raising red flags by converting large sums of money into Croatian kuna. Given your sources, we didn’t think that would be a problem.”

“It won’t be.”

“How much cash do you think will be needed?”

“Ten thousand is optimal, just to be on the safe side. A thousand American dollars is equivalent to over six thousand Croatian kuna. That will buy you a great deal of information—from one informant. There are several I have in mind, all of whom I need to meet with face-to-face—and alone—before I can set anything up with you. What I’m hoping is that those informants will lead to other informants until you close in on where this young woman is being held. Thus, the ten thousand dollars.”

Marc unzipped the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out two of the four rubber-banded packets of hundred dollar bills he was carrying. There were five thousand dollars in each. “Do you need this now?”

“No.” Danijel gave an adamant shake of his head, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as if to reinforce the adamancy of his reply. “You’ll pay them directly. Any bribe money that’s exchanged will not pass through my hands.”

Marc nodded. “Understood.”

“Good.” Danijel came to an abrupt halt. “Then if we’re all on the same page, I’ll go follow up on my feelers so I can get things moving tonight. If I’m successful, I’ll be setting up our first meeting for tomorrow morning. Once I have everything arranged, I’ll call.”