Charlie read the line several times and wondered what had caused the change in plans. In Mac’s previous message, he had said to schedule a meeting through his assistant for sometime after lunch.
“I need to go see Mac now,” Charlie said to Harry. “Would you do me a favor and tell the others that I’m fine? We’ll work this out. Okay?”
“Sure, Charlie. Whatever you need,” Harry said.
Charlie turned and headed across the parking lot toward Mac’s office, located in the same executive building as the Falcon conference room.
In some respects Mac’s urgent request was a blessing. The last thing Charlie wanted was to be confronted by other Magellan teammates. But it was odd that Mac would cancel a meeting to address the Jerry Schmidt debacle. That damage had already been done. A meeting hours earlier wasn’t about to fix anything. To access the executive floor, Charlie needed to use his security badge. For the first time since becoming a SoluCent employee, he appreciated that access, as though it somehow assured him, for the moment at least, that he still had the life of a privileged corporate executive.
He exited the elevator on the fourth floor of the four-story building and turned right down a corridor that was home to most of the executive marketing team, including Jerry Schmidt. Thankfully, Jerry wasn’t in his office when Charlie passed. He had enough on his plate without adding another confrontation with Jerry into the mix.
As in most companies SoluCent’s size, the office buildings were under constant renovation and repair—new carpeting in the Jensen building, air-duct work outside Charlie’s office. It had become so constant that maintenance costs were factored into the company’s 10-Q SEC filings. It was not surprising, then, for Charlie to see much of the corridor leading to Mac’s office draped in green painting drop cloths from the floor almost to the ceiling. The painter, working on his hands and knees, was dabbing his white-tipped paint-brush at a spot near the baseboard and did not look up as Charlie passed. Charlie followed the drop cloths right into Mac’s office, where the same green cloths covered most of the walls.
“Love what you’ve done to the place,” Charlie said as he crossed the threshold. He took a few steps forward and then went numb. Seated inside Mac’s spacious corner office, around a conference table in the center of the room, were Rudy Gomes, the senior security officer; Leon Yardley; and Mac.
Charlie knew Gomes from a company user conference he’d attended in Phoenix a year back. An ex-rugby player, sizable but not outwardly intimidating, Gomes had a shock of red hair and a boyish face that often put his targets at ill-advised ease. He had his PI license and was essentially an investigator. He was tasked with rooting out internal corruption, such as expense-account violations, corporate spying, or the more benign but equally career-ending hobby of surfing the Web for adult content on company time.
Seeing Yardley and Mac together was bad enough. Having Gomes involved escalated the situation way outside Charlie’s comfort zone. Each wore a grave expression.
“Take a seat, Charlie,” Mac said.
Simon Mackenzie was a ruggedly handsome man in his early fifties. The worry lines etched in Mac’s face had grown deeper since Charlie had seen him last; the gray in his hair more pronounced. Even seated, Mac’s six-two frame seemed smaller, sunken by whatever burden he carried. Mac had been one of Charlie’s strongest advocates since the acquisition. He believed in Charlie’s business acumen and had said on several occasions that he was starting to put the full-court press on Yardley to get Charlie promoted to a more senior role at SoluCent. The success of InVision would play a major part in any future advancement decisions.
“What’s this about, Mac? I thought we were meeting sometime after lunch,” Charlie said.
“Sit down, son,” Yardley said. As in the steering committee meeting, the softness of his voice suggested a father on the verge of sharing terrible news with a child.
Charlie took the only available seat at the round table. Mac reached underneath and pulled out a large manila folder, which he dropped on the table with a resounding thud.
“We have a serious situation, Charlie,” Mac began.
“Mac, I know that. This whole Anne Pedersen thing is totally out of hand. I promise you, I am trying to figure out what’s going on. I even contacted Lawrence in IT to see about a possible security breach.” Charlie paused. “Was there a security breach?” he asked. “Is that why Rudy is here?” Charlie gestured to Rudy Gomes, who stayed stoic and unresponsive.
“Charlie, this is very awkward for me,” Mac said. He was choosing his words carefully. “You’ve been a shining star at SoluCent, and we truly value your abilities and what you’ve brought to the company.”
“Cut the bull, Mac, and tell me what’s going on.” Charlie’s voice was quivering. He despised his own lack of self-control. Whatever pills Gomes was taking to keep so dispassionate, Charlie wanted some for himself.
Yardley took over.
“Your involvement in yesterday’s executive meeting was most unprofessional,” Yardley began. “I respect your passion, but not necessarily your methods.”
“I understand. I was doing what I thought was right,” said Charlie.
“Yes, well, after your judgment…shall we say…came into question,” Yardley continued, “we felt it was in our best interest to evaluate you, Charlie. In the only way we could.”
Charlie shook his head in disbelief. “You audited me?” He turned and faced Mac, who looked away.
Yardley went on. “We are a publicly traded company, Charlie, with strict guidelines and operating principles. We expect our employees to follow them, and our senior directors, like yourself, to abide by even higher standards.”
“I don’t care,” Charlie muttered. “I have nothing to hide.”
“According to this, you do,” Gomes said at last, tapping his hand on the manila folder stuffed with papers.
“What’s in there?” Charlie asked.
“We were hoping you could tell us that,” Gomes said.
“The hell if I know. Stop toying with me and get to the point,” replied Charlie.
“The point, Charlie,” Mac said, “is that according to this Internet audit, you’ve been spending your time looking at things you shouldn’t have been looking at.”
“You even stayed late to surf porn, Charlie,” Gomes said with a widening smirk. “What’s wrong? Home ain’t good enough for you? No time for girlfriends?”
“What are you talking about?” Charlie stammered. “Mac, you know me! You know I’m not into that crap. I just work.”
“We double-checked the logs, Charlie,” said Mac. “These http requests clearly originated from your computer. The time stamps match your badge usage and your network access time. We have e-mail records sent from your computer to adult sites.”
“Mywhore.com, hotsex.com, bigjuggs.com—real classy stuff, Giles.” Rudy Gomes was almost laughing.
It took everything Charlie had, including clutching the side of the table, to keep from leaping up and pummeling Gomes with his fists.
“That’s insane! Are you kidding me? I never visited those sites!” Charlie stood and paced about the room. His arms were raised in the air in defiance.
“Sit down, Charlie,” Yardley said.
“No! No! I won’t sit down. This is crazy!” Charlie exclaimed. “Did you check my PC for spyware? A rogue engine installed on my PC could auto-send http requests without my knowledge.”
“We did, and it’s as clean as a whistle,” Gomes said. “But if porn were your only problem, Giles—”
“What?