Death of Secrets Read Online Free Page B

Leaving his office at five or even before was
one of the perks he felt entitled to, given that he owned the company.
    But today was different. Very much so.
    One of his employees died today; a computer programmer. The man
went up to the roof of the building to smoke a cigarette. He did that four
times every working day. This time, though, he made a wrong step and fell more
than fifty feet to his death. Tilman sighed.
    The man's name had been Ivan Krupotnik, a Russian programmer.
Tilman spotted the man's talent in a few programs he'd written and distributed
for free over the Internet. He'd offered Krupotnik a very generous salary and an expedited employment visa, bringing him to the United States.
    Krupotnik never made many friends in the company or in the
country. His few social contacts had been Internet relationships, people he
chatted with over thousands of miles. The fact that he'd been a Russian
national severely complicated his death.
    Naturally, the entire company had been in a state of shock all
day. Between that and the necessity of dealing with the bureaucratic machinery
with which modern society handled untimely death, he'd gotten nothing done on
several projects that merited his attention. And staring out the window wasn't
helping.
    With one more sigh, he turned around and stared at his computer
screen. Thursday – tomorrow – he'd testify before the House Judiciary Committee
about the product he was selling to the NSA. This hearing was key to the
program’s success. If he could put to rest some of the privacy concerns
tomorrow, then next Monday’s breakfast meeting with the same members would go
like clockwork.
    It didn't help that Krupotnik had been the heart of the
GigaStar program. Had he lived, he and Tilman would have spent the afternoon
going over questions he might be asked by the Congressmen, and possible
responses. Instead, Tilman had spent the afternoon dealing with his death, and
now he had to prepare for the questions without the guidance of the man who
knew the project best.
    And there weren't others he could turn to, either. The problem
with being a government contractor was that much of the work done by his
company was classified. The government – and especially the NSA – took
classification very seriously. In most cases, one employee wouldn't even know
what another was working on. None of the other employees knew the GigaStar
program like the guy who made it work.
    Oh, Krupotnik had a supervisor, of course. She knew what he'd
been doing. But only in the supervisory way, not like the guy who'd actually
done the work. So she wouldn't be any help.
    Tilman uttered a mild oath and got to work.
     
    ***
     
    "I saw someone die last night, Michael."
    The Congressman leaned forward in his chair and laid his hand
over Kathy’s. "Oh, Kathy, that’s horrible! What happened?"
    "I was coming home from here and he got shot right in
front of me. I ran up to see if I could help, and he gave me a flash drive and
then died. It was so awful! There was blood everywhere, all over him and the
sidewalk… I nearly puked. Somehow I ran home to call an ambulance. When I came
back, the cops and EMTs were there, but no body. He was totally gone – no blood
on the sidewalk or anything. It was like he’d never been there. The cops
practically accused me of calling a false alarm, and my roommate was half way
to thinking I was crazy."
    Michael patted her hand. "That’s terrible. I’ve never seen
someone die right in front of me before."
    Kathy nodded, and took a sip of coffee. He’d had another vodka
waiting for her when she came back, but she didn’t feel like drinking. It was
hard to even hear Mike over the thumping bass of the music, and idly she turned
her eyes to the dance floor. She sighed and turned back to Michael.
    "To make matters worse, today our dorm room was broken
into. It was so awful ! They totally ransacked everything, and all our
junk was all over the floor, and my roommate’s computer was