Presumed Trust

By J. J. MacLeod

Presumed Trust is the fourth book in the Harry & Company Mystery series. Harry, Brenda and Nicky are a formidable team, but this time their well-ordered lives are suddenly pulled in opposite directions by seemingly unrelated events. Harry uncovers a blackmail plot which threatens the very future of his pharmaceutical customer while Brenda attempts to rescue a frightened young woman she's never even met from going to prison. Meanwhile, their steadfast friend Nicky is so consumed with problems of his own that he completely misses the theft of popular new gaming systems from his warehouse. Time is running out as the team uses hurried phone calls, brief encounters and assistance from unlikely sources to overcome layers of deception and unmask the sinister forces behind the three cases. This is a story featuring senior adults without resorting to rough language and explicit love scenes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. J. MacLeod
• Release date: Jan 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311913371

J. J. MacLeod

J. J. MacLeod is retired from the computer industry and lives with his wife of 50 years in Washington state. They enjoy classical music, grandchildren, travel and volunteering in the community. Proceeds from the sales of 'Harry & Company Mystery' ebooks are donated to local charities.

Book preview

Prologue

Human beings have prized the magical properties of the opium poppy for thousands of years. Ancient Sumerians once revered the colorful papaver somniferum as the ‘plant of joy’, while Greek physicians were known to have dispensed dried poppy sap they called opion to alleviate pain and malaise. Homer’s Odyssey extolled it as a drug to lull all pain and anger, essential qualities desired by both healers and pleasure seekers over the ages.

Beginning in the nineteenth century, opium was refined into more potent concentrations such as morphine, codeine and heroin. Oxycodone tablets came along a century later, only to be followed by synthetics like fentanyl with eighty times the strength of morphine. Yet, regardless of the formulation, whether inhaled, injected, swallowed or absorbed through the skin, opioid compounds metabolize into pain-numbing remedies that induce a sense of euphoria.

When taken for too long, it can lead to addiction. Too much consumed at any one time can be fatal. Drug overdoses killed over 46,000 people in the past year, exceeding the number of deaths from motor vehicle accidents and firearms. Sadly, more people have died from overdoses of prescription painkillers than from cocaine and heroin combined. The most likely reason for this phenomenon is the increased availability of pharmaceutical drugs.

Opioids are now being prescribed for more types of pain than ever before. Patients freely shop for compliant doctors, enabling them to obtain scripts from multiple sources, while drug manufacturers are expanding the variety of packages and formulations. Consequently, young people who once experimented with narcotics off the street now have unprecedented access to ample supplies within the homes of their family, friends and neighbors.

The worldwide market for illegal drugs is approximately $500 billion, larger than gas and oil and twice as large as the automobile industry. This is on top of the $1,000 billion amassed from legitimate pharmaceuticals. Abusers and their enablers now come from all walks of life, crossing all socioeconomic boundaries. Drug preference has become a function of price and availability, because crushed Oxy tablets or fentanyl patches can produce the same highs as heroin.

More than half of all Americans have been touched by this epidemic. Either they have abused opioids themselves or knew someone who was addicted to or died from an overdose. Every nineteen minutes a baby is born with opioid addiction. And unlike crack cocaine and heroin outbreaks that ran rampant through poor minority neighborhoods in the past, today’s opioid abuse is more common among white, upper-income, college-educated households.

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My hope was to enjoy an all-expense-paid weekend at a luxury hotel, flip through a few slides I’ve presented dozens of times and collect a generous fee for facilitating the retreat. On paper it looked like the perfect prescription for a relaxed getaway in the Virginia countryside, away from traffic and the distractions that come with living in the nation’s capital. My client, Advanced ChemScience Inc., had hand-picked the twelve management attendees, booked the venue from Friday afternoon through Sunday and underwritten all of the costs. Every need was anticipated and nothing was left to chance, or so I thought. Unfortunately, being center stage at a remote location made it impossible to stay on top of the seemingly unrelated crimes I became entangled with over the weekend.

Just to be clear, I’m not now and never have been a detective. I served as a CIA Case Officer for twenty-five years and have worked occasionally as a federal investigator, but these days I’m an industrial security consultant. Having spent decades exploiting organizational weaknesses for Uncle Sam, I’m uniquely qualified to teach executives how to plug the holes in their own companies. J. Harold Wilson Industrial Security, my one-man consulting firm, specializes in asset protection and intellectual property. A surprising number of successful businesses spend big bucks for elaborate fences, sophisticated cameras and electronic door locks, only to throw away valuable information with the trash. I know this because I dumpster dive just enough of their scraps to show to the CEO while I’m closing on a consulting contract.

My bread and butter used to be employee seminars, two-day training sessions designed to foster awareness and instill the desire to upgrade lax security practices. I went so far as to invent the catch phrase ‘shred it or dread it’ to help students remember to destroy their confidential information instead of merely tossing it out with the trash. However, I eventually got tired of doing the same things over and over and had to come up with a new approach. On this particular occasion I had convinced the powers that be to skip over the doers and train the managers instead. That way we could focus on real-world examples and prepare the leaders to train their own employees, covering more ground at less cost than having me do everything myself. While it ultimately meant less money in my pocket, I’d much rather interact with a smaller group instead of droning on about the same basic slides eight or ten times.

The CEO was already convinced that he had to do something, and soon, to beef up security at all levels. He liked my idea of having managers directly involved in all aspects of the training, selecting the twelve key functions that he felt would best represent the entire organization. Rather than adopt another cookie-cutter program, he wanted his hand-picked team to figure out how to change the corporate culture and imbed security within the fabric of the business. He trusted them enough to propose their own policy recommendations and implementation plan, which he would then endorse and carry forward to the Board of Directors. It was music to my ears and I jumped at the chance to play a starring role in his ambitious undertaking.

At any rate, everything appeared to be under control when I arrived just after noon on Friday. I’m not easily impressed, but the Fairfax County resort my client had booked for the seminar was easily four stars on anybody’s scale. Tucked away at the end of a tree-lined boulevard, the ultramodern design was conceived with alternating layers of weathered steel, tinted glass and variegated fieldstone. A smartly uniformed valet greeted me as I pulled up to the entrance, showing no sign of amusement as he handed me a receipt in exchange for the keys to my F-250 diesel pickup. Inside the hotel lobby, rough-sawn cedar and stone-clad walls encircled the indoor waterfall, complementing the dark wooden trusses and polished terrazzo floors.

This was a far cry from my customary ‘shred it or dread it’ seminars which were usually conducted in unadorned conference rooms or classrooms, but then ACS was a cut above my typical clients. The CEO insisted on showing his appreciation to the participating managers who were being asked to give up their weekend in order to support his security initiative.

Checking in? the friendly young lass behind the gleaming walnut counter asked. Handing her my American Excuse card, she quickly typed in my name and then turned back with a broad smile. We won’t be needing your credit card, Mr. Wilson. ACS is taking care of everything. Here is your room key and a packet of materials they left for your meeting. Your suite is ready for you now. Just follow the carpet to the second level and your room will be on the left at the end of the hall. Do you need any assistance with your luggage?

Having schlepped my own bags around the world for a quarter of a century, I politely declined her offer and followed the carpet as she instructed. My previous career had ended abruptly when Agency budgets were slashed and the Company decided to shed some of us higher-paid employees in order to make ends meet. I guess I can’t complain about being forced into early retirement. I had a good run and was allowed to leave with my pension intact. Many people in my situation aren’t so lucky.

Being too young to spend my remaining days playing golf or sitting in a rocking chair, I fell into a profession where I could set my own hours and work when I wanted to. Besides, this consulting gig keeps me physically and mentally active, provides some spare spending money and enables me to salt away the cash I’m going to need when I’m actually ready to retire.

The front desk brunette wasn’t kidding about the suite. I swiped the magnetic keycard and opened the double door into a spacious sitting room with a wet bar and a spectacular view of the rolling Virginia hill country. In addition to a generous working desk with rolling office chair, there were two leather couches and matching recliner arranged around a giant flat-screen TV. My first thought was that I should have talked Brenda into coming with me. Besides being my special girlfriend, she also runs my back office and keeps me current on the latest technology.

One look at the king-sized bed in the adjoining room made me kick myself even harder. She said that her weekend was already planned and couldn’t see herself sitting around while I schmoozed with the management team. Trained as a researcher and archivist, she has her own consulting practice and crowded social calendar. If that weren’t enough, she also chairs a non-profit foundation that provides loans to ordinary people with extraordinary ideas and no other sources of funds. A legacy from her former husband, the foundation also sponsors transitional housing for foster youth who have aged out of the system.

Taking advantage of the well-appointed bathroom, I tested the plumbing, unpacked my things and then made my way to the conference room indicated in the welcome packet. The neatly-printed ‘ACS Security Seminar’ nameplate was already posted outside the door of the hotel boardroom, a large paneled conference room across from the hotel bar on the lobby level. The substantial table and leather swivel chairs easily accommodated the thirteen bodies who would be spending the rest of the weekend here together. Bottled water, clean glasses and dishes of hard candies had already been placed in the center of the table.

My choice was to fill one of the china cups with steaming brew from the coffee urn sitting on the buffet at the back of the room. I had no doubt that other refreshments would appear in time for breaks later in the afternoon. Checking my watch, there was just enough time remaining for me to plug in my laptop, run through the slides and refill my coffee cup before the first attendees began trickling in around twelve forty-five.

The dress code for the seminar was supposed to be ‘resort casual’, but these hard-charging managers had come directly from work and arrived wearing business attire. I was dressed in gray slacks, blue blazer and an open-collared powder blue shirt. So, my first order of business was to introduce myself, remove my coat and declare a fifteen-minute break so that the attendees could change into more comfortable clothes. Group dynamics are critical in a seminar setting, and I wanted these folks to interact as freely as possible. Believe it or not, people behave differently when they dress casually. Even removing one’s tie can make a discernable difference.

Following my example, nearly everyone returned wearing shirts and slacks, albeit twenty minutes later. The nine men and three women predictably arranged themselves around the table in what I perceived to be the corporate pecking order. That left the three women grouped together at the far end and the more senior males sitting closest to the front. Needing to break up and reshuffle the corporate hierarchy, I asked the ladies if they wouldn’t mind spitting up so that they’d each have two men sitting on either side. The remixing was a little awkward at first, but after a little stage-managing on my part, the resulting redistribution of genders and ages should make it much easier for the group to overcome any preconceived biases.

First things first, I said. You already know that my name is Harry and I hope you won’t mind if I address you by your first names. Preprinted tent cards had been included in the arrival packets, so I had no trouble reading names around the table. I have no idea who in here works for whom, and I really don’t care. You are here because your CEO picked you to represent the entire company, not just the 700 or so employees in your respective functions. For the rest of the weekend, there are no organization charts or job titles. We’re all in the same boat together. If you think that your end of the boat doesn’t leak, then we’re all going to sink. Our job is to figure out how to change the way you do business in a way that anticipates and prevents security leaks from happening in the first place. By now you’re probably asking yourself why anyone needs a whole weekend to talk about something that can be handled in a one-page memo.

The few knowing looks that passed between some of the participants told me all I needed to know, so I continued on. The fact is that security is not a hygiene nor a performance issue. Security is a cultural issue. You cannot summarily fire everyone in the company for poor security practices, but you can enlist them in changing the culture so that everyone understands how his or her role contributes directly to the security of company assets. Again, nothing was said, but confirming looks passed between the three men I would have to win over to my side in the next day and a half. I needed to have everyone on the same page so we could focus on company-wide rollout plans by Sunday afternoon. I’m convinced that corporate culture begins at the top, like the joystick that controls the rudder and determines where a giant ship ultimately goes. It permeates into every corner of the organization.

As Dickins once wrote, I had seen ‘the best of times and the worst of times’ during my tenure with the Agency. So, without naming names or revealing any confidential information, I began talking about my experiences with the CIA and the various organizations I had penetrated on behalf of my country. People are always interested to know what goes on in the ‘puzzle palace’ and they’re fascinated by the techniques used to collect vital information. I try to pay attention to visual clues in order to judge whether my audience is really with me, so my eyes tend to roam around the table as I’m speaking. Before long I noticed that every time I focused on one particular woman she averted her eyes. It was an unconscious move on her part, betraying her desire to conceal something that she didn’t want me to know.

I’ve seen that same look in the eyes of agents I had recruited to steal information from their respective governments. Some did it for money, while others responded to threats of having their own secret lives exposed to public ridicule or worse. I preferred to think of it as a simple business deal: I’ll keep your secret if you tell me something I want to know about your employer. In retrospect, it was a crummy job that somebody had to do. I was good at it because I paid attention to people and picked up on their non-verbal clues. Stress amplifies even the slightest tic, making it impossible to react smoothly and naturally. This woman was trying her best to sit still and pay attention while her body was suppressing the urge to fight or flight.

Finding a suitable place to end my two hour trip down memory lane, I invited the group to take a stretch break and get a cup of coffee. As soon as the conference room doors were opened, uniformed hotel staff quietly collected the empties and refilled our refreshments, adding plates of fruit and cookies to the buffet. That led to a small traffic jam as participants sampled the goodies and chatted about my examples. Without being too obvious about my intentions, I mingled with the other attendees for a few minutes before following the anxious woman out to the patio. She was just finishing a call on her cell phone as I approached.

Hi, my name’s Harry. And you are Sumona? I asked, recalling the name on her preprinted tent card.

Yes, she brightened. Actually my friends call me Sue. Putting the lilt in her voice together with her name and dark features, I guessed that she was probably born in the Indian subcontinent within the past forty years or so.

Well Sue, I’m glad we can be friends for the weekend, I said. Thanks for coming out. You must be pretty swamped at work.

Yes, but we’re always busy, she said warily. This is as good a time as any.

OK, well I was just wondering. You seemed to be more than a little distracted. Does it have anything to do with my teaching style or the subject matter?

No, you’re actually a refreshing change from the typical corporate instructor, she said. I’m just struggling with something right now and trying to figure out what to do.

Maybe I can help. I’m guessing this is more complicated than what to do about your rebellious teenager.

No, my family is fine. I just have to work this out on my own.

Sue, I read people for a living. Every time I touched a hot button about company secrets you practically jumped out of your chair. You have all the signs of somebody who’s being squeezed. I’ve seen people in your situation lots of times.

Look, Harry, I appreciate your concern, she said defensively, but I can’t really talk about it here.

Then how about later? We’ll find a quiet place to have dinner and you can tell me what’s bothering you. I’d offer to pay, but your company is footing the bill anyway.

Why are you doing this?

Call it a character flaw. You don’t know me from Adam, except that I’m wearing clothes instead of a fig leaf. She finally smiled at my lame joke and relaxed a bit. I’ve worked with people all over the world and nothing you can say will surprise me. Just tell me what you can about your situation and I promise I won’t pry any secrets out of you.

I don’t know, Harry. You seem like a nice guy, but I doubt if you can help.

Look, you have to eat anyway and I’m told that I can be good company. Let’s just sit and talk and see what happens. I’m old enough to be your father and my girlfriend would kill me if I stepped out of line, so you have nothing to fear. This is strictly business.

Shouldn’t we be getting back? she asked. I don’t want to start tongues wagging.

Say you’ll meet me for dinner and we can all get back to work.

OK, call me after seven. I have some things I must do first, she said.

It’s a deal. Why don’t you go in first and I’ll be there in a minute.

The later afternoon session went much better. People began to interact more freely, asking specific questions and offering up specific examples from their own departments. Instead of answering them off the bat, I got the group involved in offering their opinions, whether right or wrong. The company DNA wasn’t going to change overnight, especially if I was perceived to be stuffing the ballot box and picking winners and losers. The group had to form a consensus by giving voice to their true feelings about the importance of securing information. We used simple brainstorming ground rules to promote rather than evaluate or criticize ideas, getting them to think more broadly about what was really important to protect.

Given our late start, I let it run a little long to see if we could reach a natural conclusion before stopping for the day. When my own phone vibrated in my pocket for the third time I steered the discussion to a stopping point, promising to pick up at the same place in the morning. After a night’s sleep and some personal reflection, it’ll be interesting to see whether any opinions were changed by the interaction. A few people stayed behind to ask questions and offer comments about the proceedings, but most were encouraging and I was back in my room just before six o’clock. Of the three calls I missed, Brenda’s voicemail was the most urgent.

Harry, call me as soon as you’re free. Something’s happened at Travesia and I might need your help, she said. It took me a minute to remember that Travesia was some Spanish word the board had chosen for the post-foster care transition home. I hoped it was something like a broken pipe and not a major expense item like a furnace or refrigerator. When her phone went directly to voice mail I decided to try door number two instead.

Harry, it’s me, Nicky said. I need your thoughts about a situation at work. Nicky Richards was a former Soviet spy who used his second chance to become a naturalized citizen and capitalist pig. He was masquerading as a Polish college student when I was assigned to an FBI task force. After I busted him and turned him into a double agent, he helped us round up the other members of his cell and testified against them. My partner and best friend went to bat for Nicky, sponsored him for citizenship and loaned him the money to expand a fledgling business that eventually grew into the largest specialty electronics distributorship on the east coast.

Nicky’s phone also went directly to voice mail, so I moved on to door number three, which turned out to be an update from door number one. Me again, she said. Crisis averted for now. I got Pete to meet me at the jail. Call me later and I’ll fill you in. Love you.

Pete was undoubtedly Pete Martinez, immigration lawyer and member of the foundation board. I had no clue what she meant about the jail and problems at Travesia, but it sure wasn’t a busted pipe or dysfunctional furnace. With less than thirty minutes remaining until my dinner with Sue, I managed to Google up a place for us to eat without being observed by the other managers. By taking my time and progressing step by step, I could now do more than just take and make calls. Brenda had told me that my iPhone was capable of doing anything my laptop could do, but I wasn’t about to rush off in all directions just yet.

With only minutes remaining before seven o’clock, I took a swig of mouthwash, tested the plumbing again and called Sue’s room. She agreed to meet me at the east end of the parking lot. Riding with me would be less stressful and my unconventional vehicle was unknown to the other attendees. Half of them were still hanging around the bar when I walked through the lobby, so we probably could have gone unnoticed into the hotel dining room. Better safe than sorry, I always say. The uniformed valet retrieved my diesel and recommended a short cut to the local diner I had selected. Sue was waiting when I pulled up, surprised by the size of my ride but climbed in gamely and buckled up.

Parking was abysmal around the justice center on a Friday afternoon. Brenda hadn’t been near the courthouse complex in years, and even then parking was difficult to find. The closest parking decks were reserved for handicapped and permit parking and the surface lots were all filled to capacity. Finally she found a metered space on a side street and walked three blocks to the Adult Detention Center, an eight-story concrete monolith with stingy sixteen-inch high windows. Entering the austere visitor’s lobby, she signed in and waited for her name to be called. The crowded reception area had cheap plastic furnishings, scuffed tile floors and monotone walls that only exacerbated her feelings of apprehension.

Ever since the call had come in an hour earlier she had been on the edge of panic. Yes, this is Brenda Foster. Who did you say was calling?

Esther Dyson from County Social Services, the woman said matter-of-factly. I thought you’d want to know that Heather Parsons had been picked up on charges of assault and possession.

I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know any Heather Parsons.

You’re listed as her emergency contact, Esther said. It says here that you’re the contact person for the Foster Foundation. Is that correct?

Yes, you could say that, said Brenda, searching her memory for a possible contact. She was familiar with all of the principal beneficiaries of loans that had been made by the board, but Parsons still didn’t ring any bells.

Well, Heather is a resident at a transition home your foundation sponsors, Esther explained. I got your name and number off their list of emergency contacts. Maybe you weren’t aware that since most foster kids don’t have anyone to look out for them, Social Services defaults to the list of owners of affiliated homes.

No, that’s news to me, but we have houseparents who deal with the residents on a twenty-four hour basis. Shouldn’t they be notified instead of me?

See, that’s the problem, Esther said. The person who signed the assault complaint is a man by the name of Phillip O’Malley, and he’s listed as one of the houseparents.

Oh my God. What happened?

Beats me, honey. You’ll have to ask them, Esther said. "I worked with Heather before she aged out and thought somebody should know. She’s basically a good kid with a history of bad breaks and doesn’t need to be in jail if you can help