Virtual Destruction

CHAPTER 34

Paige spotted it first, noticing the obvious and making Craig want to kick himself for not seeing it.

When he came into the T Program trailer complex late Wednesday morning, Craig still felt bleary-eyed from his late flight back from Washington DC. But he had taken the time to shave and change into a clean suit, white shirt, and dark red tie. But he felt run-down and fuzzy.

Paige met him in the T Program trailer, wearing a large but conspiratorial grin on her face. She had clipped back her honey-colored hair with a pair of black barrettes, and she wore a loose peach-colored silk blouse over trim black slacks. She looked comfortable, easing up on her rigid dress as she spent more time working with Craig as a friend rather than as an official protocol escort. Her smile at him was brighter than the sheen of her silk blouse.

“So did you learn anything in Washington DC?” she asked, obviously hiding something.

“Unteling denies everything, of course, but I think I rattled her. Something’s not right, and we just need to pinpoint what it is. She’s sweating.”

Paige leaned closer to him. “I’ve found something else that’s not quite right,” she said, lowering her voice. She sat down on one of the chairs in Gary Lesserec’s cubicle.

Outside in the computer area Lesserec leaned over two other programmers who hammered busily at keyboards. Lesserec looked like a junior Napoleon trying to rein in his troops. He flashed a glance at Craig, frowned with distaste, then bent back to the workstations. He ignored Craig entirely, which was just fine with him.

“What is it?” Craig asked, also keeping his voice low.

Paige indicated the paraphernalia in Lesserec’s cubicle. “Take a look. It’s right in front of your eyes.”

Craig had seen it all a dozen times before, but he glanced again, trying to determine what Paige had noticed. The big-screen workstation, the bumper sticker about Porches, the plastic snoopy doll, the empty Diet Coke cans scattered everywhere, the photograph of Lesserec and his “too sexy for a nerd” girlfriend standing at Lake Tahoe, the debris of diskettes, software manuals, and old sticky-notes. He stared and stared, unwilling to admit he couldn’t see anything new.

Paige didn’t wait for him to ask. “Come on, let’s go for a bike ride.” She whispered. “Someplace we can talk.”

Craig nodded. They passed back through the CAIN booth to the outside of the trailer complex and found two Lab bicycles perched against a bike rack. He blinked in the sun, settling his sunglasses in place. Craig adjusted the black bike seat as Paige swung herself into place. She started pedaling, making him work to catch up with her.

She found a bike path lined with eucalyptus trees, and they rode past the Restricted Area fence. Without talking, they kept going around the perimeter of the site where the research buildings were scattered farther apart, leaving only pumping stations and generator buildings run by Plant Engineering.

“All right, Ms. Detective, open up. What is it?” Craig said, looking across at her. His sunglasses kept slipping down his nose, and he lifted one hand from the handlebars to straighten them.

“You know that bumper sticker about Porches?” Paige said. “Well, I checked — Lesserec really owns one. Brand new. Sixty-five thousand dollars.” She waited for that to sink in, then continued. “You know the photo Lesserec keeps on his desk, him and his girlfriend by their condo at Lake Tahoe?”

“Yes.” Craig nodded again, beginning to see.

“Lesserec bought the condo in the last nine months. He really owns it. He’s also got a very nice house up in Blackhawk, one of the exclusive, upscale subdivisions in Danville, just about the most expensive area to live in this whole valley.” She paused meaningfully. “Gary Lesserec should not be able to afford that sort of thing.”

“Okay,” Craig said cautiously. “Why not? He’s the Deputy Program Director for the entire VR Project. Isn’t that a prestigious position?”

They passed under some low-hanging, pungent eucalyptus branches. Paige looked back at him. “Craig, I’ve got a printout of all the Lab salaries in case you need actual proof — but trust me, we’re University of California employees. Even important people here don’t scratch the salaries they could be making as consultants on the outside. The highest paid person in the Livermore Lab doesn’t pull in much more than a hundred thousand a year, and I guarantee you Lesserec doesn’t make that much. At least he’s not supposed to be.”

“Well,” Craig said pondering as they pedaled past fenced-in softball fields the employees used at lunch. “What about the girlfriend. Could she be rich? Maybe she’s the one with money?”

Paige pursed her lips. “I asked about that. It seems Tansy Beaumont has a great deal to say on the subject. Tansy thinks Lesserec’s girlfriend has been sponging off him for about two years now. In her own words, ‘you can see what he gets out of that girl.’“ Paige laughed. “If she was rich, why would she be with someone like him? You’ve got to admit Gary Lesserec is no prize specimen.”

Craig cracked a smile. “I’ll agree with that.”

“According to Tansy,” Paige continued, “the girlfriend doesn’t even have a job, claims to be ‘an aspiring poet’ who sits at home all day and spends Lesserec’s money. No, Lesserec’s the one with the cash — but where did he get it? That’s what I want to know.”

“Couldn’t he be a consultant or something?” Craig asked. “Don’t a lot of people here do that sort of thing on the side?”

Paige agreed. “You’re right. But I do have a little pull around here, you know. I called up our Lab Counsel Department and had them run a check. Anybody who does outside work beyond their regular employment has to file a form every year stating their consulting activities. That’s to prevent conflict of interest. Guess what I found?”

Craig answered. “No paperwork on file for Lesserec.”

“Bingo,” Paige said.

“So, he’s not openly declared that he’s engaging in consulting activities. His girlfriend doesn’t have any money. His Lab salary is decent, but not enough for the kind of lifestyle he’s living. These are the classic signs of espionage involvement.”

Paige looked at him with her blue, blue eyes. “Just like that Ames spy case with the CIA. Everybody saw the signs and nobody paid attention. I’m just amazed nobody’s caught it before this. We’re all supposed to be watching out for exactly those things. I’ve given the Security lecture myself to some of our new employees.”

“It was a good idea to discuss this out here, away from the crowds,” Craig said. “Let’s keep quiet about it while we make some discreet inquiries. The best thing we can do is get hold of Lesserec’s phone records, both for home and at the office. I’ll have to call the Bureau and get the appropriate subpoenas issued — but that shouldn’t be a problem. They’re hot to solve Michaelson’s murder.”

Paige kept pedaling as they turned the corner onto another path heading back toward T Program.

“I can get his Lab phone records for you,” Paige volunteered. “They’re open access. I just need to contact the Lab telephone systems.”

“Good,” Craig said, “And thanks for keeping your eyes peeled while I was gone.”

She smiled at him, and as he looked back at her his foot slipped from the pedal of the bike. He wobbled before he could catch his balance.

“Just happy to help,” Paige said. “My civic duty.”

“The more we find out, the more complicated it gets,” Craig said, knocking the kickstand down on his bike as they parked outside the T Program trailers again. The sun was warm and the exercise had felt good to him.

“I wish we’d stop digging up more questions though,” he said. “I want to start finding some answers soon.”