Sinsation (Book Two)

64

The main office is a sanctuary from the drama. A wooden masterpiece carved into the heart of the castle. Every inch of the room, from the high-beamed ceilings to the polished mahogany walls, is aged beyond centuries. Although it's a new property of mine, there's a symbol of hope within its ancient roots. It has persevered over hundreds of years ... so can I.

I prepare for a long night in front of an 80 inch super computer.

The fire on Aldoia is a stain on my conscience, one I can't scrub clean until I've uncovered every last thread of corruption. Every Strygent employee will be investigated. No exceptions. No excuses. I label the consequences of not attending as termination from their position. The video conference is immediate, since there are thousands, I can't chat with them all, so groups of 100 will suffice. I involve every title, from operations to blue collar, even custodians and lunch aids.

One by one, faces appear on the monitor, filling the grid of 100 in lightening speed.

"As many of you are aware, there was an incident on Aldoia—an incident that has cost us trust. Every Strygent subordinate is under scrutiny." I scan their faces, noting nervous flickers in their eyes, some fidget in their seats. They know this isn't a routine check-in. "Effective immediately, everyone will face thorough investigation. Any mention of this process infringes the NDA and will result in detainment."

A few employees shift uncomfortably, but none dare to speak.

In the hours that follow, I delve deep into their lives, prying into every work email, tracking every mile driven in company cars, scrutinizing every transaction in their bank accounts. No detail is too small, no connection too trivial. I cross-reference their communications, compare expenses, and analyze whereabouts with the precision of a surgeon. Every suspicious interaction, every unexplained expense, is flagged for further interrogation. The sheer scope is extremely invasive, but I press on, determined to rip out any trace of betrayal.

By 6 am, I have NASA's President on conference. Phone based since the official has a far more demanding job title. Johnson Cowell is on the floor while talking, the mummers of employees and machinery are audible.

"The failure to report the fire until it was too late is inexcusable. My conclusion is that there's a leak."

"Mr. Harrison, I understand your frustration. I want to assure you that we're taking this situation very seriously. The breach of our satellites is something we've never encountered on this scale. Every one went offline for nearly an hour. We believed it to be a glitch in the system and worked to reboot it as quickly as possible." Cowell's tone is heavy with embarrassment.

"An hour?? An hour is an eternity in a situation like this. You should've reported the outage immediately. Waiting this long is suspicious—trying to fix it quietly—only allowed the fire to spread unchecked."

Cowell exhales, clearly struggling with the weight of the situation. "You're right...and I take full responsibility for the hiccup. We should have communicated, but we were caught off guard. It was an unprecedented malfunction. We decided to deal with it privately."

"Do you always leave your clients out of the loop?" I interject, my tone unyielding. "I'm not interested in excuses, I need the culprit."

"What makes you think there's a culprit?"

"I received a cryptic message from an anonymous source." I best not mention the mafia, that will scare him away from our business deal.

"Interesting..." He mumbles lowly. "Please allow me to pinpoint the transmission as apologies. I'm committed to exposing this breach. This is not our typical client service, please forgive the mishap." Cowell's voice softens. "My deepest condolences for the Aldoia tragedy."