2 Executive Retention Read online

  "It's funny," Radar said. "I work mostly in San Jose, and I only knew one of the people on that list. I thought most of the layoffs had been done in Denton. Another strange thing is that I don't remember adding any of those post office names to the database. I must have added some of them because their start dates are all over the place, going back about five years."

  Five years? Aha! Right when Jacques started working for Acetel!

  Of course, I had no idea when Arnold or Ben or anyone else had started. My head reeled a bit with the data. I flipped back to the quarterly report. "Acetel took a huge charge for the layoff. They ended up with a loss for the quarter, supposedly related to the layoffs--including paying these people severance."

  Radar shoveled food in around his next comment. "Everyone in San Jose assumed the layoffs were here, and you assumed they were in San Jose."

  "Post office boxes can be opened by anyone--or the same someone over and over."

  "All to pick up a paycheck."

  "If these people don't exist, how do we find out who has been collecting the paychecks for five years? And who got their severance?"

  Radar looked as perplexed as I felt. "No way of knowing at this point. I already looked to see who deleted these people's privileges when they got laid off. I was expecting someone from HR or Patel, a guy that sometimes works with me out in San Jose. I even looked to see if maybe Art had done the deletions. Funny thing was, I couldn't tell who did it. Whoever it was logged on as the network administrator, which isn't all that unusual, but it means that there isn't a trail tied to a particular name. No way did Art do it because there weren't any obvious errors. Patel wouldn't have done them because I was in San Jose at the time of the layoffs. He only does network stuff when I'm not there."

  "Who else knows the administrator password?"

  He shrugged. "It's not necessarily the same everywhere in the company because the network is broken into subnets, but in general, all three of us; Art, myself, and Patel. Oh, and my boss, Ramon Gonzales, knows the passwords. His boss too if he ever bothered to ask."

  "Or anyone that weaseled the info out of someone stupid enough to give it out."

  We both said, "Art" at the same time.

  Radar paused in his eating to take a gulp of water. "The real answer is probably even dumber than Art. I got curious, so I looked closer at the setup. The administrator password on each system hasn't stayed the same over the last five years, but from what I can find, it was probably the name of the company for a long time. That means that someone could have guessed the password too, because it is the same password that HR uses to enter payroll information."

  "Oh boy."

  "You going to eat that?" He indicated my fried rice.

  My mouth gaped. "You cleaned up that entire General Tso's Chicken!"

  "So? Are you going to eat it or what?"

  I thought about trying to look pathetic. That never worked on Sean, so I settled for disgruntled. That never worked with Sean either, but it fit my mood. I put a huge helping on my plate and then passed the serving bowl his way. Radar ate more than my brother and was still skinnier than a rail.

  After helping himself, he continued, "And there's one other small problem with all of this."

  I had a bad feeling I knew what he was going to say. I fiddled with my chopsticks, but couldn't wait for him to finish chewing before asking, "Did you figure out who was getting email notifications when we were in the system?"

  He left me hanging while he ate a few more bites and drank some water. He accepted a refill from Deke, Evie's son, before answering. "That's the problem I was referring to. I had to make sure I could look at these files without any warning emails being sent. That took so long, I didn't have time to trace back the email account. If the guy wants move around fast and count on getting notified when certain files are accessed, he can't be using the administrator account. There has to be at least one false account that this guy can use whenever other, legitimate accounts won't do."

  "Do you think the guy is using one of the laid off employee accounts?"

  He shook his head. "Nah, none of those have global privileges."

  "What about Jacques or Arnold?"

  "They shouldn't have all the right privileges either. No need for them to."

  "What about someone above them like this Ben Martinez guy?" I pointed to the name on the layoff list. "He was near the top of the org chart."

  "He might have had such privileges when he was at Acetel, but his account would be deleted now."

  I stared at the list of employees, including the laid off ones. "Does this pile of stuff happen to have a list of the hiring dates for the employees?"

  He nodded. "Sure, but I looked it over. It's not as though the ones with post office boxes all got added at once. Would have been too obvious." He sat back and looked very, very full. He grinned at my worried expression. "Don't worry. I'm well-mannered. I promise not to belch at the table."

  "I was more worried about you exploding."

  He laughed. "This has fast become my favorite place. You know any other good restaurants?"

  "It's my favorite too." I thought about Anthony's Grill, but that wasn't really his style--or mine for that matter. "I like Italian, but haven't found one that fits."

  "You been to Italy's Canal?"

  I shook my head so he told me where it was located. "I'll have to go there." I thought some more about the information I had gathered so far. "Has someone really found a way to collect a lot of extra pay, including severance? How is the guy collecting the checks? He can't pick up fourteen checks and deposit them in bank accounts with all those different names…" My mouth remained open as a thought struck me. I gaped at Radar like a guppy.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Do you use direct deposit?"

  "To get paid? Sure."

  I reached into my backpack for my wallet. It took another second to extract the check that Suzy had written to me. I hadn't gotten around to depositing it. There it was, her mismatched name and signature.

  "What's that?" Radar asked.

  I showed him the check and explained how Suzy was using checks that had a different name than her account. "Maybe the post office boxes are needed because the HR form requires it, but what if the addresses aren't used to pick up a check? What if each of these employees has a different name and a unique post office box, but their bank deposit account numbers are all the same?"

  He stared at the check and then back up at me. Wheels turned.

  I dared to ask, "Can you look at payroll accounts? Can you tell if the deposit numbers for those on the layoff list all go to one bank account?"

  Radar squirmed. He obviously hated to be pinned down on his hacking activities. Without much enthusiasm, he pushed his plate to the edge of the table. "Maybe."

  "Radar…" my voice trailed off. It wasn't a good idea for Radar to be involving himself. "Don't leave tracks."

  "You know I was recently offered more stock options at Acetel," he replied. "I guess I'd better ask for paper copies of the stock options. At least that way, if the stock turns out to be worthless, at least I can sell them as a collectible."

  Evie brought the bill and put it next to Radar, of course. I grinned. He scowled.

  "Oh, I'll pay for it," I said. "I owe you for the sandwich the other day, anyway."

  He grabbed it before I could. "No, I ate most of it. I just wanted to bug you, actually."

  Just like Sean. Always trying to yank my chain.

  Chapter 25

  Do not ask me why I promised Sean I would help Brenda with Thanksgiving dinner. Usually, I roast the turkey and invite them over, but my brother wouldn't give up on the silly idea that his darling wife would one day be able to cook. Brenda was too unconcerned in the kitchen to follow recipes--and that was before she was pregnant. She had an amazing knack for substituting ingredients and thinking it would turn out fine.

  It rarely did.

  Now that the time had arrived to pay the favor, I wa
s grumpy and nervous. I loved Thanksgiving, particularly the food part. It was unsettling to think I might somehow be cheated out of creamy gravy over succulent turkey, mashed potatoes and all the trimmings. To add to the pressure, my parents, after learning of the impending grandchild, had decided to make the drive.

  Sean had, as promised, done all the shopping. When I arrived, a lump of a turkey sat on the counter top, still wrapped. Sean was nowhere to be found now that his part was done, but Brenda was thrilled to see me and eager to get started. When mom heard where the cooking was being done, she declined an early arrival, so I was on my own.

  Brenda had recently grown out her hair. The new style made her look a lot like Annette of the Mouseketeers. Her dark shoulder-length curls bounced prettily with no effort on her part. Probably a good thing too. If her cooking skills were anything to judge by, I didn't want to see her hairdo after she got a hold of a curling iron.

  "This is going to be sooo fun, don't you think?" With great enthusiasm, she grabbed my arm and tugged me forward. "I have already started on the stuffing. I've been saving breadcrumbs and letting them dry for the last three months!"

  I was big fan of stuffing, but my recipe didn't call for dried breadcrumbs. I'd have to improvise. "Do you have regular bread? I like the bread to be soft."

  She frowned. "No." Then she brightened. "We got the Pillsbury rolls you told us about. We could use those!"

  "Well, uhm. If we did that, we wouldn't have bread to serve with dinner." Plus the stuffing recipe called for almost an entire loaf of bread. The Pillsbury canister made only eight medium-sized rolls. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure we can figure something out." Maybe Betty Crocker had a dry breadcrumb recipe or maybe we could use the same recipe I normally used even though it called for soft bread.

  "Why don't you start on the stuffing, and I'll clean out the turkey?" I wanted to be very sure the giblets and other parts were properly discarded.

  She nodded and pointed to a pan of onions and celery. "I already cooked the veggies for the stuffing. I put in all the herbs you listed too."

  I sniffed the air. I couldn't smell any herbs. "Did you use fresh herbs?"

  She nodded.

  "Okay." I wasn't sure what could have happened to the herbs. Maybe she hadn't put a lot in or maybe I was used to smelling them because mincing them made my hands smell like thyme and sage all day. "Go ahead and put half the breadcrumbs in and then toss all of it in a bowl. I add one egg after the margarine is all mixed in."

  I started on the turkey.

  Brenda hummed along happily. "I can't wait to do the pie. Sean just loves your pumpkin pie."

  "That reminds me. We should stick the pie crust in the oven." I finished cleaning the inside of the turkey and then washed and dried my hands before grabbing a pre-made crust from the freezer. "That way we won't have to wait to put the turkey in once it is stuffed." I turned the oven on and happened to glance in the bowl she was stirring. I looked twice to make sure I had seen what I thought I had seen.

  "Uh, Brenda…I thought the breadcrumbs were dry?" She was stirring a bowl full of soggy bread. Bits of celery floated in the goo.

  She nodded. "Yeah, they were. The trouble was they were still dry even after I added the egg, so I added milk. Look," she tilted the bowl, nearly spilling its contents onto the floor. "It looks much better now. I would hate for the stuffing to be dry."

  I would hate to have to eat that stuffing period. "Milk?"

  She noticed the squeak in my voice. "Do you think I should have used water?"

  I could answer quite truthfully to that one. "No." Maybe a tablespoon or two of chicken broth, but not water and not an entire gallon of milk. I put the pie crust in the oven. I thought as hard as I could, but saw no clear avenue that would lead to delicious stuffing. "Maybe we should try it again with the rolls." I dug them out of the back of the fridge. If I only used half of the other ingredients it might work. Or I could try to find my idiot brother and send him to the store for bread. "Where's Sean?"

  "He didn't want to interfere with our girls' day so he went to the office." She started humming again. That should have warned me, but I ignored the sign and headed for the study and the telephone.

  Sean answered on the third ring. "You need to bring home a loaf of bread." I considered other things I might need. "And get some fresh thyme and sage. If you can't find fresh stuff, get the dried herbs from the baking aisle."

  "Why?" he asked.

  "Why do you think?"

  He didn't say anything for a moment. Finally he asked, "There hasn't been a fire? The kitchen is intact?"

  I closed my eyes and tried to rein in some semblance of patience. "Did you get a bag to put the turkey in? I haven't asked Brenda yet and no, there is no need for any emergency rescue personnel at this moment."

  "The oven bag is in the pantry."

  "Oh, bring some celery. I don't know if she has enough. We can always use the extra with peanut butter or cream cheese."

  "I only like peanut butter on them."

  "Yes, but I like celery with cream cheese."

  "Do you think Mom and Dad will be impressed? It will be the first Thanksgiving we've cooked."

  I bristled at the "we've cooked" part. Shopping for groceries was the easiest duty, and I didn't think he should be taking credit for making the meal. Then again, at the rate things were going, there might not be any harm in sharing credit for the actual results. "You might want to bring a frozen pizza or two just in case," I said.

  I heard the timer go off. "I gotta go, Sean. The pie crust is done. Will you hurry with the bread?"

  I hung up and raced back into the kitchen. Brenda had sense enough to get the crust out. It was a good thing because the sight that greeted me froze me in my tracks long before I got to the oven.

  "Crust looks good, doesn't it?" She held up the evenly browned crust, dragging my eyes from the turkey.

  I swallowed hard. "Uh, yeah." I trailed over to the counter, focusing on the bird that we were to partake of in a few short hours.

  It oozed. Milky goo dripped around the sides. A slimy path leaked across the plate and onto the counter. Closer examination found a pool of smarm resting in the previously empty bird. Mounded little breadcrumbs floated in the opening.

  "Oh," she exclaimed.

  I thought she had finally realized the error of her ways. "It's okay," I tried, but my voice cracked.

  All she said was, "I need help getting the turkey legs clamped together. I stuck the skewers in a few times, but the legs won't close right. The stuffing keeps trying to come out."

  She was right about one thing. The stuffing was trying to come out. Maybe if I stayed in the kitchen the rest of the day without even taking potty breaks, I could salvage the rest of the meal. I'd have to warn Sean against eating the stuffing. It was too late to save it now, unless I could get her to leave and then rinse the bird out and start over.

  I looked at her gleaming face. Not a chance.

  With a sigh, I found the oven bag, bagged the sad bird, and got it into the oven.

  "I know Derrick is going to be impressed. He's bringing his partner and wife. Adrian's wife, not Derrick's wife. Derrick isn't married." She looked my way slyly, as if maybe I hadn't noticed that Derrick was single. I had news for her. Only my brother would be foolish enough to marry someone that was this big of a cooking disaster. If Derrick thought I had participated in this mess, he would run if he had any sense at all.

  "Does Sean have his cell phone?"

  "Why, did you miss him at the office?"

  "Something like that." I went back to the study without leaving her any instructions. Hopefully she would bomb the place, and we could go to Luby's or something.

  "Bring some Stove Top," I ordered when he answered.

  He didn't say anything for a long while. I let static fill in the space. Finally, he grunted a reply. "Too late to save?"

  "Yup." I hung up and returned to the kitchen. We made the pumpkin pie and after Sean arrived, we
created mountainous appetizer plates with little pickles, celery, carrots and mixed nuts. Once that was all done, I decided to run home.

  "I'll make the potatoes and bring them back over here."

  "Oh, but I want to help," Brenda protested.

  "You've made mashed potatoes before." I didn't mention that they were usually lumpy or soggy. "Besides, you need to take a nap. If I'm here, you'll just run around and worry. That bird has hours to go. Just leave it in there, don't touch it, and don't change the oven temperature. In fact, you don't even have to look at it." I thought really hard about what else she might try, but my mind couldn't begin to imagine what she might do.

  I left Sean in charge and Brenda resetting the china on the table for the fifth time. She might not need the nap, but I did.

  I slept like a dead person for over an hour before showering and making potatoes. As I loaded the car, Mark showed up. "I'm on my way to Sean's for dinner," I explained.

  "I see. What's in the bag?"

  "Mashed potatoes on the top, maternity clothes on the bottom."

  He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  "Brenda, my brother's wife, is pregnant. These clothes are from my friend, Suzy."

  He didn't say why he had shown up on my doorstep. His eyes were warm and friendly. Even though we were standing feet apart in my driveway, I remembered drowning in those eyes. I couldn't resist. "Do you want to join us for dinner?"

  "Is she a good cook?"

  "Not…exactly." Then, I brightened. "But Sean did buy pizzas just in case."'

  His eyebrows went up again. "Pizza? For Thanksgiving?"

  I wasn't going to put any money down on Brenda not having touched anything since I had left. "Don't worry. My mom is going to be there, and she will have cooked up a bunch of sides. I'm bringing potatoes so we can always eat those."

  "That bad?" Now he looked amused.

  "We're pretty good at filling in. Although...nah, I'm sure it will be fine."

  Mark finally came along, following me in his vehicle.