The CEO Came DOA (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries Book 5) Page 4

  “What’s a tester?”

  “You really don’t know much about this business, do you?” Before I could answer, he went on. “Do you know what I mean when I say a prototype?”

  “The first of something that works and then duplicates are made from that.”

  “Close enough. Once we have a prototype, copies of it are then imprinted using the process I mentioned before, photolithography. Then the chips are cut to size, etched, tested, and scaled up. That means to reproduce the product at a profit. It’s done at our site in Nevada, about four-hours away. Before we can distribute or sell them, each chip needs to be quality tested. That’s where the tester comes in. It’s one of a kind and very expensive.”

  “Let’s back up for a minute,” I said. He nodded impatiently. “I thought chips were fabricated offshore, such as in Penang, and then sent here.”

  “True, but David was trying to bring the manufacturing of silicon chips back to the states, the way it was done in the eighties. It was his cause célèbre, but it costs a fortune. The board was against it, even Craig. Trying to do things David’s way is how we got in this fix.”

  The last sentence was said more to himself than to me, but there was no overlooking the hostile tone of the statement. I decided now was as good a time as any to do a little probing.

  “Sounds like there might have been some conflict within Read-Out other than the saboteur.”

  He brushed me off with a gesture one might use with a bothersome fly. “There’s always conflict in a small start-up. The fact that we got to this stage is a minor miracle.”

  But something flickered behind his dark eyes. Rameen cleared his throat then looked down at the shimmering wafer in his hands, his thoughts elsewhere. When I saw he wasn’t going to say anything more, I piped up.

  “Did all this stuff go missing at the same time?”

  The question brought him out of his reverie. “The chips and tester vanished sometime between six am and seven. I don’t know how long the prototype’s been gone. I only went to the safe in David’s office moments ago and couldn’t find it.”

  “What was something owned by the company and worth so much money doing in the CEO’s safe?”

  “It belonged to him. That’s where he kept it. He paid for its development upfront and was about to sell the prototype back to us. I was to cut a check for it when we got an influx of foreign capital, but until then it remained in his safe.”

  “A safe to which you seemed to know the combination.”

  His face hardened. “I called the company attorney this morning. She left here about forty minutes ago. There was certain information that needed to be turned over to me immediately in the event of David’s death. One thing was the combination to his safe. I’ve never been inside his office without being invited except for this morning.” I stared at him and he stared at me. “I swear.”

  “Let’s get back to the theft of the tester and chips. How do you know the timing of the thefts with such accuracy?”

  “Along with video cams, we have a security company that does rounds every hour on the hour. When the guard did the seven am rounds, the entire stock was gone, plus the tester. Over fifteen million dollars. And without the prototype, we can’t manufacture more.”

  I usually don’t whistle, but let out a soft one. “Where were they kept? In a vault somewhere?”

  “No, we’re renting a house a block away. They were stored in the attached garage.”

  “Excuse me? You rented a garage to store fifteen million dollars worth of company assets?”

  “It was only temporary. It was David’s idea for a special project. He wanted the chips and tester close by the office, so he rented a small house with a garage. He walked back and forth to it when he was building the Plexiglas display case for the big bash. He worked in Plexiglas a lot; it was his hobby.”

  “Whoa, what Plexiglas, what display case, what big bash?”

  “It wasn’t for general knowledge, and didn’t have anything to do with the problems we’ve been having, so I didn’t mention it to you.”

  “Seems there’s a lot you didn’t mention to me.”

  Rameen took some serious umbrage to my tone, his color changing from red to purple. But before he answered he took a deep breath and managed to stay as inoffensive with his reply as he could.

  “David was planning to have a celebratory bash at his own home in Palo Alto next week. All highly confidential. He sent out invitations to twenty very select people from all over the world, all interested venture capitalists. The chips and tester were going to be displayed encased in Plexiglas with flashing, colored lights.”

  “Sounds very Vegas.”

  “His was a theatrical personality. He said it would not only help to win over investors for much needed capital, but turn board members committed to offshore fabrication to his way of thinking.”

  “So it was his decision to bring all your assets to a nearby garage in Sunnyvale? Didn’t he have to run that by somebody? Like the board?”

  “You didn’t know David.” The CFO’s agitated voice filled the room. “He did what he wanted. I’ve been circumventing his eccentricities from the beginning. There was nothing I could do about it.”

  “Why is that?”

  Rameen ignored my question and rose, still holding the chips. He walked to the window. Looking out, he paused, seemingly distracted by a car entering the parking lot. He turned back to me much more in control, even bringing a smile to thin lips.

  “Besides, as I told you, he paid for the prototype and several other necessities with his own money, so he had more say than normal. But he told me we were safe. He’d hired elaborate security, paying for it himself. Someone outside the company loaded the truck and drove it to the garage, not the men at the factory. Nobody knew.”

  “Not exactly. You knew. Security knew. And the driver of the truck knew. But regardless, if your assets have been stolen and you can prove it, you can collect the insurance. Maybe not ideal, but you should be able to recoup most of your losses.”

  He gave me an exasperated look, like I was too dumb to live. I felt my attitude change, turning to one of hard-line appraisal. I usually try to stay neutral in my personal likes and dislikes of our clients in order to do my job right. However, a lot of secrets and hidden agendas were popping up with this group. I don’t like that.

  Rameen Patel glanced over my shoulder again to see if anyone was hovering near the doorway. I went on talking, anyway. You want privacy? Put on a stupid door.

  “I’m thinking your insurance company will never talk to you again, but I repeat, notify them.”

  “We can’t do that,” he stuttered, lowering his voice to not much more than a whisper again. “We’re having a cash flow problem. That’s why the board was in favor of the bash. If word of the thefts get out, we could lose our potential investors.”

  “And why would that be?”

  “The video cams were disabled.”

  “With a code?”

  “Yes.”

  I chewed this over. “That means a person within your organization is more than likely responsible. I can see why you don’t want news of this to get around.”

  Rameen didn’t answer but set the wafer inside the box, covered it with the tissue paper, replaced the lid, and put it back into the bottom drawer. He locked the drawer with one of those little keys that often come with furniture, the ones meant to keep your dog or cat out.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Is this why Collier wasn’t in Switzerland? When was all this Plexiglas stuff going on?”

  “He came back five days ago and stayed in the Sunnyvale rental. No one knew he was here, not even his daughter.”

  “Did he come back to get ready for this big bash?”

  Rameen looked ill at ease, and began to move the photos around on his desk in quick nervous gestures. I put my hand on top of his to stop the redesign. I kind of liked them the way they were. He pulled his hand from under mine and sat down heavily in his
chair.

  “Initially, he told me he’d make arrangements from Switzerland for the transfer of the tester and chips to the garage, so they would be waiting for him. He didn’t want me to be a part of it, even though I offered.” Rameen hesitated, his face taking on a puzzled look. “Then David decided to return even sooner. When he called to tell me he arrived earlier, I asked him why. He said a…situation came up.”

  “What situation?”

  “I don’t know. He wouldn’t say anything more about it.”

  “And we crash land on Planet Weird. Am I up-to-date now?” He nodded. “Okay, so what do you want from me?”

  “I want you to find them.”

  “Find who?” I tipped the coffee cup toward my mouth to drain the last of the liquid.

  “Not who. What. The prototype, chips, and tester.”

  “You’re kidding,” I said, choking on coffee. “It’s all probably miles away by now. And in any direction.”

  “Please, Lee. At least try. You’re our only chance.”

  “I don’t think so. I found out D. H. Collier was the one sabotaging your company.” I studied him for a moment. “You don’t look surprised. Something else you didn’t tell me.”

  “I….I….” He stuttered then turned mute, momentarily unable to form words. I was firm.

  “Regardless, Rameen, I’ve done my job. You need to turn these thefts over to the police. And good luck to you.”

  He found voice. “We can’t go to the police. As I said, if word of this gets out, we’ll be ruined. One hundred and forty employees out of a job. Two years in the making. I’ve even borrowed money from family to help make this go.”

  “I didn’t think CFO’s ever put their own money into a venture.”

  The flicker behind his baby browns returned, but all he said was, “It was called for.”

  Then Rameen stopped talking and looked at me the same way my white and orange cat, Tugger, does when he’s had his quota of treats but wants another. I usually give in to said feline, knowing I’m the world’s biggest chump. True to my pushover nature, I found myself yielding.

  “Oh, all right. Give me the address of the garage. You say it’s nearby?” He nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise you anything, though.”

  His relief was almost palpable. “Thank you. When you get there, the security guard can give you more information on the stolen items.”

  “The prototype chip, I’m assuming it’s pretty small. What kind of container is it in?”

  “When I last saw it, it was in a black, square box about the size of a ring box. The prototype chip, itself, is much smaller, encased in removable glass.” He tensed up again and looked at me. “This is highly confidential.”

  “Got it.”

  He scribbled down an address on a piece of paper and thrust it in my hand. “If word of this catastrophe gets out, the results will be disastrous.”

  “Understood. Confidential; Catastrophe; Disastrous.”

  More to himself than me, he added, “This is my fault, all my fault.”

  The landline phone on his desk jangled its greeting or warning about an incoming call. Rameen looked at it like a man facing a firing squad.

  “It’s starting. I’ve got to stave off the press and see that David’s death doesn’t destroy the company. Find the prototype, chips, and tester, Lee. Please.”

  “I’ll give it my best shot.”

  At the core of Silicon Valley is a passion for ‘yes.’

  Steven Levy

  Chapter Four

  Before I left the building, I took a few minutes to check out Collier’s Chinese puzzle desk hoping I might find the prototype. Everything was as I’d left it the night before. I was tempted to take Collier’s will out and photocopy it or at least give it a cursory read. But better to come back later when I had more time. First things first.

  I hurriedly gave the room another thorough going over for the black ring box. I hadn’t seen anything resembling it the night before and didn’t see it now.

  But I did find a small folded map labeled East Bay Neighborhoods under his mouse pad. Did Collier bring it with him when he arrived around midnight? It hadn’t been there the night before, I was sure of it.

  I spread the small map before me. Crisp and clean, it looked as if it had never been opened, much less used. Big question: why would one of the world’s foremost computer geeks have a paper map in his office when there was the internet? I refolded and tucked it in my pocket.

  Instead of taking the elevator, I clomped down the stairs and stepped outside the three-story stucco building into a sun baking off the early morning fifty-degree temperature. I hit my brother’s number on the frequently dialed list.

  “Hey, Lee.” Richard’s voice sounded tired. As if to prove it, I heard him yawn.

  “Sleeping in now, are we, brother mine? I’ve been up since four-thirty.”

  “Sorry about that. Vicki and I had Braxton Hicks visitations last night. We were up half the night.”

  “Who’s Braxton Hicks?”

  “Not ‘who’, what. They’re contractions. We thought we were going into labor but we didn’t, thank God.”

  I’ve noticed a trend these days of fathers-to-be to refer to the ‘we’ in a woman’s pregnancy, as if taking on fifty-percent of the event. And I expect it’s not just here in the Bay Area. It was Richard’s plan, having attended Lamaze classes with Vicki, to be in the delivery room cheek to jowl with his wife counting breath reps and shouting out words of encouragement. Naturally, the actual delivery of the child is still up to the mother, but we’ll let that one go.

  This whole idea of the father ‘participating’ in the actual childbirth was something Mom found appalling. When Richard told her he was going to be in the delivery room during the birth of their child the entire time, and recording the experience for YouTube no less, she fell into the nearest chair fanning herself.

  Then the happy couple extended the invitation to the family, as well. Our uncle, Tío, jumped at the opportunity. He views the birth of new life as the greatest miracle in the world.

  Mom, on the other hand, retorted that in her opinion there were times a woman required privacy. This was one of them. Lila Hamilton Alvarez is from the school of thought where the phrase ‘natural childbirth’ means you’re not wearing makeup. Group involvement was beyond her.

  I have to admit attending wasn’t at the top of my list of things to do, either. But Richard asked me, so coward that I am, I said yes. My plan was to keep my eyes closed most of the time and wear earplugs. And have lots of Valium on hand.

  My brother yawned again.

  “Richard, I need you to pull yourself together. We’ve got a big problem here at Read-Out.”

  “Shoot.”

  Just on that one word, I heard him come to an alert state and give me his full attention. A lone bus stop beckoned to me from the end of the street. As I gave Richard a blow by blow of the day’s events, I hiked over to a bench beside an official sign announcing the Valley Transit Authority bus schedule and route. I sat on the cool, yellow slats and waited for my brother to react to what had happened. He didn’t fail me.

  “Holy crap! You’ve had a full morning, Lee. I’ll take Braxton Hicks any time.”

  “And I’m not done yet. I’ve promised to try to retrieve the stolen booty before they get too far away. I’m on my way to garage where they were kept now.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “The watch word there is ‘try’. They’ve had less than a two-hour head start and that’s where you come in.”

  “So what do you need from me?”

  “The research you did on D. H. Collier when we first took the case. The theft of the prototype and tester on the heels of his death is too much of a coincidence. I think he’s a part of this, even though he’s dead.” I thought of the small map I’d just found. “Did he own anything in the East Bay?”

  “Offhand I remember a four-plex theatre in San Francisco and a mini-mall ne
ar Monterey. He owned much of Union Square, believe it or not, and a lot of Yountville and St. Helena in the wine country.”

  “Very impressive, but let’s stick to the East Bay.”

  “Okay, give me a minute. Let me fire up my laptop and I’ll call you back.” He disconnected.

  A breeze fluttered through trees backlit by the rising sun and a bird or two chirped in contentment. I fought the urge to lean back and close my eyes for a quick nap. Rather, I got up and walked the block or two to the address Rameen Patel gave me, passing several small startups that peppered this region of Sunnyvale.

  A few minutes later the phone rang. It was Richard. I almost dropped the phone in my eagerness to talk to him.

  “What have you got?”

  “He has - or had - a small house in Fremont. Not worth much, maybe two, three hundred thousand. It was his parents’ home before they died. Is that what you mean?”

  “Sounds promising, Richard. From what I’ve gleaned, fifteen million dollars worth of these computer chips would probably fit in the back of a not so big truck. But I don’t know about the tester. How big are those things?”

  “The type they’d probably use is about five feet long and two, three feet wide. Heavy, though. If a shoebox can hold over two hundred thousand dollars worth of chips, you might be right about the truck. Let’s make certain; I’ll do the math.”

  “Never mind the math. I’m visualizing it in my head.”

  He ignored me, humming as he thought. “Let me see, if the average size of a shoebox is….” Here his voice faded, but came back strong a second later. “That would have to be roughly two-hundred and sixty-three boxes. The lot could probably be held in a little over six-hundred cubic feet, or a seventy-five square foot area.”

  “You’re giving me a headache, Richard.”

  He continued to ignore me, and banged on his keyboard. “If you packed the boxes tightly enough and put the tester along side, almost any U-Haul trailer should do it.”

  “Noted. What’s the address of this house?”