CLOAK & CORKSCREW: 16) SPOOKY PEOPLE
My Saturday Evening Post: A Serial Novel of Intrigue & Lunacy
35.
Sitting in his dust-proofed Computer Room high above Woodmont Avenue in downtown Bethesda, Maryland, the Dataveillant compiled every shred of data obtainable on Sophie Gunderson. It wasn’t much. The most astounding thing about data on Gunderson was its lack thereof. A scrap here, a scrap there, but mostly huge gaps. Certainly, no data suggesting a career in making movies—and nothing that connected Gunderson to Josh Penner.
Gunderson, he discovered, grew up in a suburb of Minneapolis, mother and father still married, three siblings, a graduate of public high school and Macalaster College St. Paul, close to home. And then zippo.
The Dataveillant had only seen this a couple times before, and each came equipped with red flags and traps, meaning under the radar screen. Virtual landmines would explode if he kept digging.
Nonetheless, the Dataveillant smiled with satisfaction. He enjoyed the analytical process as much as data downloads. Sometimes, such analysis was not based on what he found, but what he could not find.
Gunderson is one of the Spooky People.
Next, the Dataveillant focused on Tom Richardson.
Born in Westport, Connecticut, a tony town within commuting distance of New York City; Columbia University; an internship on Capitol Hill. A smattering of addresses in the Washington, D.C. area. And then nothing… until Josh Penner announces at a press conference that Richardson is a) collaborating with him on a movie and b) being held by police in France
And now, according to the PI, Richardson is sitting at lunch with Penner in Geneva. The French had let him go, probably because of Penner’s publicity, and Richardson had skedaddled to Switzerland.
Penner told the media that Richardson recently left the CIA.
That would explain the gaps.
The Dataveillant spoke into Katz’s earpiece: “Please confirm, is the babe with Penner or Richardson?”
Katz brought the tiny cell phone in his palm to mouth as is if to cough. “Penner.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
The Dataveillant formed three hypotheses:
Penner has hired a second ex-CIA person as a consultant for his movie with Richardson. But why would he call her VP in charge of Development? Possible answer: It sounds good to a novice like Richardson?
Or: Gunderson still works for CIA and is rusing Penner to get to Richardson.
Or: Penner is rusing Richardson WITH Gunderson for CIA.
Excited, the Dataveillant switched gears and focused on Penner. Too much data. He needed to be selective or his computers would get into a frenzy dialoging with one another about movies.
The Dataveillant trained his focus on Penner’s subversive activities.
Outspoken against the USA.
Visits with Fidel Castro in Havana, even though it is illegal for Americans to enter Cuba.
Visits with Hugo Chavez.
The Dataveillant noted the dates of Penner’s visits before connecting to cell phone and credit card databases.
Who did Penner phone and where did he go after returning from visits to Cuba and Venezuela?
Wait a second, where had he flown FROM to Geneva?
Washington, D.C.
And what’s this? The cops in Malibu drop all charges in a clear case of assault and battery?
“Fuck me,” said the Dataveillant to his family of computers. “Josh Penner works for the CIA.”
36.
Sitting at a corner table across the dining from Tom Richardson’s party, Igor Kuntevich fixated on Jeremy Katz, who he discerned was trying to disguise a major interest in Richardson’s conversation.
The Russian surreptitiously photographed Katz with his iPhone and immediately transmitted the image to headquarters in Moscow for traces.
Kunty assumed it was someone from CIA spying on Richardson and wondered why the American rogue spy was not more careful.
But the real problem: If this spy was CIA, they may already have noted his own presence.
Or maybe not. The eavesdropper, clearly a professional, had paid not the slightest interest in Kuntevich.
Within minutes, Kunty received a response from SVR headquarters. Former FBI Counterintelligence.
The Russian quickly devised a plan of action, settled his tab for a pot of tea and rose to leave.
Across the Restaurant, Tom Richardson caught a glimpse of the Russian and chuckled to himself.
Noting this, Katz followed Richardson’s train of sight and fixated on a pony-tailed figure scurrying out the door. What now?
“There he is,” whispered Richardson to his lunch companions, delighted to create a layer of drama for movie folk. “Don’t turn around.”
“Who?” said Gunderson.
“The Russian publisher.”
Penner, his back to the door, resisted an urge to turn and take a peek.
But Gunderson flagged him. She had a terrible feeling about this, and knew this new dimension would mortify her superiors. “How do you know he’s really a book publisher?”
“He says he’s a publisher and he’s willing to pay a large advance.”
“Yes, but don’t you think he might be Russian intelligence posing as a publisher?” posed Gunderson.
Richardson shrugged, grinning. “What’s to say you’re not CIA posing as a publisher?”
Gunderson didn’t flinch. “I see your point. Have you shown anyone your manuscript yet?” she asked, concerned that the Russian was already in possession.
Richardson shook his head. “No. I put the Russian off while waiting for you. He knows you’re here. And he knows I’m trying to package a deal for all parties.” He paused. “I told him, I’d rather make a deal with you, but if I can’t, I’ll make a deal with him.”
“I get it,” said Penner. “It means Sophie needs to get to work reading your manuscript.”
“So where is it?” asked Gunderson with perfect nonchalance, concerned about the manuscript’s physical security with a Russian nearby.
“In a cyber-vault,” replied Richardson. “I have a special code to access it.”
The trio agreed that Richardson would access the file after lunch and Gunderson would read the manuscript in its entirety on the rogue spy’s computer screen in his presence. She would then re-group with Penner for discussion, the pair would sleep on it—and decide by noon next day if they were prepared to make an offer.