The Backup Asset

…34

“Just show me exactly where you found it,” Mason Armstrong encouraged Terry, following him inside the Sprinter with some difficulty.

Armstrong, the chief of internal security for Walcott Global, had a painful, bothersome limp in his left leg, an unwanted memento of his days in the US Secret Service. He had been in the service of President Bill Clinton, a president so peaceful that few people still remembered the 1994 assassination attempt that took place at the White House. Armstrong did, however, because one of the bullets fired on that day by the attacker’s semiautomatic weapon had shattered his femur, leaving him crippled and desk-ridden since he was thirty-one.

Despite several rounds of reconstructive surgery, Mason never walked straight again, and every time he put his weight on that leg it was a painful reminder of what a single fateful moment can take from one’s life. None of that pain showed on his face though. Completely bald and clean-shaven, with features that appeared carved in stone, immobile, and free of any emotion, Armstrong was perfectly suited for the high-stress job he had. He remained calm under any circumstance, an invaluable skill he picked up during his training with the Secret Service, a skill that had proven useful many times.

As head of security for Walcott Global, he was responsible for every aspect of security, from the protection of the company’s physical facilities, to the safety of its employees, and the safeguarding of all information. Armstrong combined his calm, thoughtful mental process with a procedural, structured approach to all events and situations. He had earned the trust and respect of his employer for the smooth, efficient, and discreet handling of all matters security, regardless of how delicate.

Armstrong watched as Terry demonstrated where he had found the document, using a blank sheet of paper snatched from Armstrong’s printer.

“When’s the last time you detailed the van?” Armstrong asked, jotting down notes.

“Yesterday morning, sir.”

“How many times has it left the garage since then?”

“Five times, sir. One outbound, two airport pickups, and two roundtrips with our teams.”

“Get me the lists of all people who touched or used the van since the last time you detailed it. You keep logs, Terry?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get you everything you need.”

Armstrong stepped out of the van slowly, holding on tight to the handrail on the door.

“Onboard cameras would have been nice to have now, right, sir?” Terry ventured.

“Yes, definitely,” Armstrong confirmed with a frown.

Armstrong had been an advocate for video surveillance in all company vehicles, but with no success. Walcott’s CEO had resisted the thought, stating that it would insult their guests and visiting officials with such a blatant manifestation of distrust, shown as early as an airport pickup — their first contact with Walcott Global. Maybe the current situation would get him to reconsider.

“Did you touch the document with your hand at any time, Terry?”

“No, sir, I wear gloves when I work on the vehicles.”

“Good, good,” Armstrong said, giving Terry an encouraging pat on the shoulder before he turned away and walked toward the main building.

A few minutes later, he closed the office door and immediately pulled out his cell phone, using voice recognition for his command.

“Call Sam Russell, encrypted,” he said.

“Calling Sam Russell, mobile, encryption active,” the smart phone’s robotic voice answered.

Two short rings later, a familiar voice picked up.

“Mason, hey, good to hear from you,” Sam said.

Armstrong stifled a sigh before responding.

“Well, maybe not so good… Sam, I need your help. How fast can you get here?”