If you wish to stop the virus, I want 5 million US dollars wired to an account in the Grand Caymans. If this is done by Wednesday at 5pm EST, I will disable the virus. For an additional 5 million I will not alert the media to the breach in your antiviral system. The last bit, the source code, will cost you 10 million for me to destroy all copies of.
You should never have fired me.
If you involve the authorities in any way, I will activate the virus and I will release this information to the public.
Sincerely,
Cirrus
I had to read it twice.
“I don’t understand. I know that the virus would be bad because our anti-virus software would have no way of finding or stopping it, and I know that the public finding out about this would be bad, but why would releasing the source code destroy the company?” I asked confused. In my mind the worst would be that people would use the information to get free anti-virus, and while bad, not the end of the world.
“If he releases the source code, we have no way to stop other people from building mal-ware that can hide from our system. Every one of our customers would be vulnerable to attacks. If it got out that this had happened, no one would
buy our software. Lawsuits would occur. Did you know we supply the government with this? National security would be compromised. If the source code is released, the company would never recover. We would all lose everything,” Mr. Thayer explained.
I tried to wrap my brain around the concept and instead my thoughts flipped to when Mr. Cirrus had quit.
Mr. King snickered. “Your one sentence blurbs are no longer going to cut it around here.” He paused. “Mr. Cirrus, Mr. Thayer, you’re both aware of how important it is we meet this deadline, correct?” Both men answered with an affirmative. “Then you’ll understand that I can’t afford a shakeup in your department right now. Mr. Cirrus, at the conclusion of this project, your role will turn into more of an advisory one. You will be teaching Mr. Thayer the ins and outs of your current job, and once he’s ready, I’ll be transferring you to a position in R&D.”
Mr. Cirrus sat there, with his mouth agape. “R&D? A demotion? Are you serious? After my department has hit all of its goals?”
Mr. King shot a glare back at him. “Yes, Mr. Cirrus, a demotion. You’ve disappointed me, even failed me, but you’re too valuable to fire. A few months in R&D will remind me why I hired you, and remind you of...”
Mr. Cirrus cut him off. “You don’t have to worry about giving me a job to cool my heels while I’m pushed into early retirement. I quit!” he yelled as he stood up and knocked his chair over. He gave a piercing glare at me, as if this was all my fault, before storming out of the room.
I remembered him leaving the building, escorted by security. He had yelled out that Mr. King would be sorry, that he would ruin him. Everyone had taken it as the ramblings of an unhappy, disgruntled employee. The implications of this email slowly began to hit me. This would be disastrous. Destroy the company and everyone who worked here’s life disastrous.
Mr. Thayer sat at his desk, his eyes vacant and afraid. I had to salvage this. I had to get Thayer's confidence to the point where he would begin to work on this. If anyone could fix this situation it would be him. The man was a genius with computers. Since becoming the head of the department, the output and creativity of the whole company had skyrocketed. I stood up and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him gently.
“Look at me, Ed. We can fix this. Let’s go tell Mr. King- we have to. This isn’t your fault. He may be angry, but it will be at the situation, not you. He needs you to fix this. I know you can fix this. We will come up with a solution.” My little speech sounded like a bad sports movie, but it seemed to perk him up. His eyes lost the glazed expression and he stood, teetering slightly. He grabbed his laptop and headed towards the door.
I heard him mumble something about whiskey and I thought I could use a bottle too.
***
To his credit, Mr. Thayer’s voice never shook as he presented Mr. King the problem. His hands only trembled slightly as he handed over the laptop with the message displayed. He managed to only look vaguely like he might throw up as Mr. King read it. I wondered what kind of whiskey he would like after this.
Mr. King sat at his desk staring at the computer, his face incredulous. With extreme self control he stood slowly and walked around to where Mr. Thayer stood.
“The public cannot find out about this. We have to get this situation under control now.” The cold fury in his voice frightened me. I had never seen him this angry, this cold. His hazel eyes burned with the fires of hell. If Cirrus had walked into that room, he would have frozen and died four horrible times in that sentence alone.
“Mr. Thayer, you have every resource at your disposal; Ms Vanders will be your point of contact. I want hourly updates.” He handed the computer back to Thayer, his body stiff with fury. Mr. Thayer nearly dropped it, but managed to save it and scurry out of the office. Mr. King turned to me.
“You are with me until we figure this out. Pull up all the financials. Figure out where we can pull the twenty mil where the shareholders won't notice it missing. Look into Cirrus’s financials. Look into anyone affiliated with him. I want information now.” He growled with frustration. I nodded a quick yes and started setting up my computer in the corner of his office that I considered “mine”.
I kicked off my heels, getting comfortable with my computer as I started to dredge through the reports and look for a solution. Page after page of reports flashed across the screen as I searched for the answer. Mr. Thayer called out to his secretary to cancel all appointments for the day. Mr. Thayer’s assistant started bringing up reports, emails flew between the three of us. Lunch came and went, and I only stopped for a moment to snarf a sandwich Mr. King’s secretary brought up for dinner.
I suddenly looked up and realized that I hadn’t moved in two hours, but that I was nowhere close to finding what I was looking for. The room had turned dark and gloomy as night set in. I realized everyone else in the building had probably gone home for the evening.
It felt hopeless. I looked through the reports again, hoping that one of them would magically change, that I had somehow overlooked the simple solution and that it would just pop out and asked to be fixed. Mr. King must have read the defeat written across my face, as he closed his laptop and slid it into a drawer of his massive desk.
“I think we need something to clear our minds,” he announced as he stood up and stretched his arms above his head. I leaned back in my chair, and stretched out my arms as well, surprised at the stiffness in my neck and shoulders. He looked at me with disapproval as I rolled my shoulders and worked out the tautness.
“Your posture is better, but you were still slouching. Are you wearing the duct tape now?” His voice betrayed nothing of what he was thinking. I rubbed my shoulder, thinking he was going to be displeased. I had been sitting properly, and I only ached because I had been sitting there for hours without moving. A small flare of indignation flared up, mad that he might be angry with me for something I didn’t have control over.
I stifled it and shook my head no, waiting for his temperamental wrath. Instead of snapping at me for my posture, he grinned and opened his desk, fumbling in a drawer until he found a roll of the silver duct tape. His smile was wicked and predatory as he set it on the table.