Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 01 - Flapjack (3 page)

-Chapter 3-

Galveston began by explaining how he graduated from Rutgers University with a degree in political science. 

“
I was a below average student, probably near the bottom, if not fully at the bottom,” he told me.

After getting his act together
he managed to go to graduate school, somehow making it into
HHHHhhhh
the Elliott School of International Affairs at George Washington University.  In the process he had racked up mounds of school and credit card debt.  Saddled with bills and a newly printed diploma, he took a low level position in the State Department, mainly just answering phones and pecking at a computer. 

A friend had him apply to the
State Department’s Bureau of Diplomatic Security.  It offered many of the challenges he had been searching for; foreign living, travel, and law enforcement without the pesky steps to get there.  The Bureau of Diplomatic Security took him on a different life path, and ultimately a collision course with his future.

Now at this point my mouth was agape and I slowly sipped my soda.  This was fascinating
, but what did he want with me and with this new business?

Galveston
continued on a rapid pace and explained how he spent many years bouncing from embassy to embassy in Europe before being assigned to Brussels, Belgium, where he participated in the security mission for the European Union, which is where the EU is based.  Ten years passed and he fostered connections with a variety of agencies, such as the National Security Agency, CIA and FBI.

“
You don’t say,” was all I could mutter as I chewed on some ice from my empty glass, riveted by the facts he was laying out in front of me. 

“
I should have just stayed where I was.  I had a great job, but for some reason I was looking for more, to make more of a difference,” he told me, twirling a napkin in his hand. “A really dumb move on my part.”

He resigned from the Bureau of Diplomatic Security after his ten year anniversary.  The connections he had mad
e then led him to the smoky world of the consultant and work as a private government contractor. 

“
I was doing okay and working out of London, but then I had to get out, and out of any government work.  Of course a woman was involved and that’s a whole other story in itself,” he told me as the waitress eyed us intently, seeing if we were ever going to pay our check.  “It was during this time that I made the biggest mistake.  At the time it seemed great, but man, was I stupid,” he said shaking his head.  “It was at this point where my life really changed.”

-Chapter 4-

During this stupidity period, as Galveston so lovingly liked to call it, an informal meeting popped up between him and a government liaison for a company called Black Bear Security. 

Black Bear was a multi
-international company with ties to many governments and private organizations.  It employed many contractors that provided security, investigatory services, and covert operations.  It also dabbled in corporate espionage.  I assumed this was similar to how someone likes to dabble with golf on weekends. 

Galveston
had garnered quite a reputation as a master investigator and was eyed by the top brass for his uncanny ability to assess a situation and unravel pieces of an investigation.  For that skill he was invited to join Black Bear as a security consultant and to use his connections in the FBI and CIA to increase the scope of Black Bear’s work.

“
Why did you join them?” I asked.

“
Money mostly, and I got to stay in one place for a time, at least that’s what I thought would happen.  But things changed quickly.  I was usually involved in preliminary items, not knowing the end result of my work,” he stated flatly.  “I powered through the ranks of a backwoods hobbit to become a mighty steed,” he told me proudly.

These were
his words, and I wasn’t sure how much more of that I could take.  Essentially he rose through the ranks, bringing on more delicate assignments.  Apparently it was at this point that things got complicated. 

“I didn’t know all the details, but I met a man named Wallace Murray once at a meeting in D.C., at Black Bear headquarters.  Murray used to do black ops for the CIA.  I think he only set up covert operations for the company, mostly domestic corporate espionage kind of things at first, you know, computer hacking and sabotage, fuzzy things that went unnoticed.  I know he had mercenaries on the payroll, and some juiced up ex-special forces guys, the ones that had no conscience and took orders well.  He chose the real winners and expected some nasty things out of them, if that’s what it took.  I think he may have been dropped on his head a few thousand times as a kid,” Galveston paused to take a drink and to see if I was still following along.

I listened carefully as
Galveston spun his tale.  Surprisingly, I continued to be riveted to my seat, but I didn’t have any idea of what was truly factual and what was embellishment.  Galveston continued again, taking time only for a few small breaths as he now quickened his speech further.

“
A weapon’s company hired Black Bear to find out if they were dealing with illegal gun dealers and they gave me the case.  It was, unbeknownst to me, my last case.  It dealt with large sums of money being transferred into and out of a Cayman Island’s bank account.  I eventually traced the money to a guy connected to some of the biggest arms dealers in Eastern Europe and the Middle East.  The name was Wallace Murray.”  He stopped as if I understood the connection.

“
I should have told the FBI, but I followed the rules.  If you came across something or someone in an investigation that was related to Black Bear in some way then it must be reported to upper management.  I filed a report to the Black Bear management and heard nothing.  Days passed, then weeks and still nothing.  Then all hell broke loose.  I got a call to bring in all my computer hardware because we had, quote, ‘a serious matter to contend with’.  That matter was me.”  He pointed his finger to himself and looked me straight in the eye.  I could see by his tone and expression that even talking about it made him angry.

“
I had my credentials taken away, my hard drives were destroyed, and an allegation of impropriety while on duty was thrown on my record.  They accused me of using the Black Bear database for personal and financial gain.  They had phone records, computer records, and multiple transfers into my bank account from all over the world.  My credentials with the CIA and FBI were toast.  My sole friendly contact at the FBI, David May, tried to find Wallace Murray, but found he didn’t exist.  All just a figment of my imagination, I guess.  Just like that, all my work, gone.”

“
Well, what was the story with this Wallace Murray, or whoever he was?” I inquired.

“
I’ll guarantee you he was somehow involved in those arms deals and it’s a pretty safe assumption Black Bear knew about it.  I mean, Black Bear employees have some of the highest security clearances of a private corporation in the nation.”

“
Well, did you ever hear what happened?”

“
No.  All the Black Bear guys are paid too well to talk.”

“
What do you mean by that?”

“
Let’s just say that there is a certain understanding that if you talk, Black Bear will get to you, somehow, some way.  It’s like putting the fear of God into people who have no fear.”

“
Why haven’t I ever heard about them getting into trouble before?”

“
Well, one, Black Bear is huge, two they have their hands in a lot of pockets, way down deep, and three, they do a lot of non-controversial work to offset the nasty stuff.  That is what put me here at our lovely company.  It was a job that paid and I took it.  I want out now, and I can’t pass up the opportunity to get back in the game, albeit it won’t be like before.  Its work I want to do again and I want you to join me in the insanity.” 

I absorb
ed all the information.  Who was this guy?  I wished I was just at home enjoying a stiff drink, watching a bad comedy on TV, and dreading the next day of work.  Galveston noticed my consternation and reached for the bill.

“
My treat,” he said smiling.

-Chapter 5-

Galveston and I said nothing as we walked back to the car.  I opened the car door and Galveston piped in over the roof of the car. 

“
So what do you think?”

“
What do I think about what?”  I asked back. 

“
You know, going into business together.  I need a partner,”

“
Why me?” I asked him seriously. “Why do you want me as a business partner?” 

“
I need someone very strong in the financial aspects of a business, you know, the ability to actually run a business.  I don’t have any clue about that.  I’ve done some research on you Roger.  I know you have a Doctorate in Economics.  I know you worked at the International Monetary Fund, and I know you had your own consulting business.”  I grew quiet at the recital of my past. 

“
That was a lot of years ago,” I said softly, “and if you know all that, you probably know the rest of the story then,” I said incredulously. 

“
I think I know enough that your story sounded a lot like mine.  You were underappreciated and at the wrong place at the wrong time, that much I do know.  I know your business background is strong, you know about international affairs, and you could manage our finances, set up and negotiate contracts, you name it.  Plus you need a fresh start, instead of the goofy accounting you’re doing now.” He stopped and smiled.  “Also, I need someone who doesn’t have anything else going on.”

“
Oh thanks.  Does my life have that little meaning?”

“
Right now it does, I mean, come on.  I’m offering you low wages, unpredictable prospects, terrible hours, days of uncertainty, and a wish you had never come into contact with me.  I mean, who would pass that up?”

“
Well when you put it like that.”

“
Yes, and don’t forget the travel.  Piss poor hotel rooms, little sleep, that just sweetens the pot.”

“
How can I possibly say no?”

“
I tell you what, if in one month you aren’t satisfied, I’ll give you all my savings.  That will cover you for a month until you find another half ass job, but who wants that stability.  I don’t want to leave this parking lot until I have a yes or no.  The time is now,” Galveston pressed me.

“
You sound like a timeshare salesman.”

I thought about it for a minute.
  I believed Galveston when he told me he was terrible at the financial aspect of running a business.  I knew this already from our work at “la Technologies”.  He made me feel needed and I could get whatever his idea for a business was off the ground, probably with one hand tied behind my back.

“
I already have our first client lined up,” he said smugly and I took another moment to think about his proposal.

“
An investigator,” I thought.  I had no clue what that entailed, but from his stories I believed he did.  The thought of working longer at Tesla sent shivers down my spine.  I could always get a job at the local McDonalds if it didn’t work out.

“
Oh, what the hell,” I told him quickly.  “How tough a business could it be?  Alright, you’ve got one month, no longer.  I’ll see it through and if I’m not completely satisfied, you’ll pay me.  Deal?”

“
Done,” Galveston said rather gleefully.

I nodded.
  I couldn’t believe what I had agreed to, an operation with no business plan, no real customers, and no product.  But the stories had intrigued me, and Galveston’s confidence overrode all my uncertainty.  Still I felt like a person who had just been sold an elixir from the traveling medicine man.

“
Alright,” Galveston said as he got in the car, rubbing his hands together.  “Let’s go quit our jobs.

-Chapter 6-

Quitting was going to prove even easier done than said. 

“
I’ll do the quitting for us.  This is your first lesson on my side of the business.  Always have an out.  I have all the ammunition we’ll need, just let me do the talking and you wait here.  Give me ten minutes.”

I gathered myself outside, sitting on a brick wall, shaded under a poor excuse for a tree.
  Exactly ten minutes later, Galveston returned with a manila folder in one hand and a box in the other.

“
What’s the story here?” I inquired skeptically.

“
I simply put our conditions and terms of voluntary termination from the company on the table,” he said.

“
English please,” I replied. 

He paused as if giving
some great dumbed down version.

“
We are quitting effective immediately, no questions asked.  We wanted a check immediately for our pay.  Stan had five minutes to get the said checks, or I was going to post the pictures of his carnal affair with Belinda on the internet, along with a friendly email to his wife explaining where her husband had been during those long late hours of work,” Galveston said smugly.

H
e pointed to a white envelope in his hand.  “I said these would never see the light of day.”  He handed me the envelope and I nervously ripped it open and peered inside, holding the corners back, expecting sickening and horrendous photos.

“
Oh my God,” I exclaimed, turning it upside down and shaking it.  Nothing came out. 

“
You blackmailed him?” I said loudly, shoving the envelope back at him.

“
Again, the voice.  Didn’t your mother ever tell you to use your inside voice?  You have a lot to learn about discretion.”  He scolded me like a child, grabbing the envelope from me, crumpling it up. 

“
I call it non-factual persuasion.  Technically, yes, it is blackmail, but that’s not the point.  I stitched everything up in a short amount of time.  You’re not very observant, are you?  Those two couldn’t keep a secret if their life depended on it,” he instructed me.

“
How did you know?”

“
I didn’t know 100 percent.  Have you ever heard of Occam’s Razor?  In a nutshell, if there are a number of explanations based on the evidence you have, most likely the simplest explanation is probably the correct one.  How many bosses leave the office four or five times each morning to talk to the secretary, when they just as easily could use the intercom?  How many bosses lean over their secretary’s desk, touch their arm, and help them with their email?  How stupid do you have to be to not figure out email after a two year tutorial?”

“
But to want Belinda?  Even for Stan, that’s pretty low,” I replied in disgust.

“
Don’t ask me why or how, please don’t make me even conceive the two of them doing anything but slopping hogs after work.  I don’t know, but the signs were there.  The little glances, the little laughs, plus I saw both of their cars parked at the motel down the street,” he laughed.  “I kind of put it together.”  He handed me a piece of paper from the box sitting on the wall.  “Cash it in good conscience.  You have received lesson two in simple observation and part of lesson three in gentle persuasion.”  I reached for the paper slowly, still in a state of shock and now fully unemployed.

“
I would hate to see your non-gentle persuasion,” I said as we walked back to his car.  I realized I had exited a terrible situation and entered into a terrifying unknown.