Daniel Palmer - Helpless

“Aaron being among the best,” Cortland interjected. “Carnegie Mellon undergrad. CalTech for a PhD in computer science.”

“Believe me,” Aaron said, “I’m not even the best on staff.”

“Impressive,” Marvin said. “It surprises me that you tech types went into PR. I’d have thought you’d be building some whiz-bang dot-com business or something.”

“Well, this business is whiz-bang, Mr. Pressman,” Donovan said. “Our mission is to protect the brand. To do that, we’ve developed highly sophisticated real-time search engines that scour every corner of the Internet for mention of our clients. From there, we have tools that can weigh the importance of the messages based on a proprietary social scale we’ve developed.”

“Social scale?”

“We first understand who communicated the message, then quantify and rank their influence using a set of custom algorithms.”

“Impressive,” Marvin said. “You can tell if a reputation attack is something that can be ignored or something to be addressed based on this rating?”

Donovan nodded. “Precisely.”

“How does all this measuring and monitoring translate into results for your clients?”

“Do you recall the Baby Natural crisis?” Cortland asked.

Marvin nodded. “Sure. A disgruntled employee started spreading rumors online that the food was contaminated. He made up fictitious stories about babies getting sick. Created a bunch of online personas that weren’t real to make it look like the issue was serious and widespread.”

“Well said,” Donovan commended. “And, of course, all lies. Thanks to our technology, we knew the scam was happening before anybody at Baby Natural did. But the public isn’t always willing to believe a company, even if the claims against it are false.”

“So I don’t get it. How did you help? The damage was done. Word got out, and I’m sure sales were lost.”

“Actually, the opposite happened. Sales jumped from the publicity that the story generated. The only reason you heard about the incident is because we wanted you to hear about it. We tracked down the scammer before too many people had a chance to read his posts. Then we controlled all communication about the incident to the general public. Baby Natural came across as the victim. They had the full support of the FDA. The post-incident PR campaign projected a company that was transparent to the consumers and highly responsive.”

“And got a whole lot of publicity,” Marvin concurred. “Well done.”

“This is the future, Marvin,” Cortland broke in. “And we believe reputation management cuts across all businesses and all borders. And you’re also correct in assuming that in some cases, we treat individuals of certain wealth and prominence as business entities unto themselves.”

“And also men like Frank Delacroix, for instance,” Marvin said in response. “Or is it Frank Dee?”

Cortland and Donavan returned Marvin’s friendly smile with stony expressions.

“Let’s do this,” Cortland said as he rose from his chair. “I have a conference call in a few minutes. I suggest we set up an in-person meeting between Aaron and your client. I’m sure after your client learns of all our capabilities, he’ll be quite pleased with our services.”

“Would Mr. Delacroix be willing to give you a reference?” Marvin asked Cortland. “You said yourself that the public often is reticent to trust the word of a company.”

This time Cortland smiled, though Marvin could see that his congeniality was forced. “If we had a client by that name,” Cortland said in a humorless voice, “I’m certain that he would.” Cortland headed for the conference room door but stopped after Marvin called his name.

“I did a little homework before our meeting,” Marvin said. “After all, my reputation reflects every recommendation that I make.”

“Oh?”

“Do you know Roland Boyd? He’s an investor and venture capitalist type. Lives up my way. In the sticks, as you city folk like to call it.”

Cortland took two steps toward Marvin and stopped. His expression turned grim. “What’s your point, Mr. Pressman?”

“Well, he appears to have taken advantage of your failure. I mean, you’re the reputation guardians. Just thought you guys were good at it, is all.”

“We are good,” Cortland said.

“But your client, PrimaMed, suffered a terrible PR setback from the recent arrest of James Mann on child pornography, did they not?”

“You’ve obviously read the stories,” Cortland said.

“Yeah, I read them. A lot of the stories I read were posted before the guy got arrested. There was talk on a bunch of pretty influential blogs and message boards about Mann’s pending doom. Some anonymous poster claimed he had inside information that Mann was going down. Can you imagine that?”

“Well, rumors are what make the Web go round.”

“And rumors also affect company stock price. Early news of his arrest sent the PrimaMed stock into a bit of a tailspin.”

“I don’t know the specifics,” Cortland said.

“I bet someone made some money off that,” Marvin continued.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, if someone shorted a bunch of shares of PrimaMed stock, they’d be pretty darn lucky. The stock dropped to twenty on those reports alone, went down to eleven after Mann’s arrest.”

“Well, someone was lucky, if that’s the case.”

“Or someone—maybe your pal Roland Boyd, even—knew to short the stock because he knew James Mann was going to be attacked.”

“If that were the case,” Cortland said, “perhaps this Mr. Boyd had some association with the employee charged. You seem quite the investigative sort. Have you explored that connection?”

“To be honest, Simon, I have a hard time looking anywhere but at you.”

“Are you suggesting that we attacked the reputation of a client who entrusted us to guard it?”

“Just asking the question.”

“That would be insider trading, and it would put us out of business.”

“Well,” Marvin said with a conciliatory nod of his head, “I guess when you put it that way, it does sound pretty outlandish.”

Somebody was home at the Boyds’ house. It was six o’clock in the evening. Lights were on inside the home, and that cherry red Mustang was parked in the driveway.

Rainy had left an earlier message for Sergeant Brendan Murphy, explaining her intentions. This was his jurisdiction and his case to run. But Rainy had done enough of the courtesy protocol to begin investigating on her own. This interview would be FBI exclusive. Rainy rang the doorbell. Carter kept to one side of the landing. Twice now, Rainy had brought Carter into the field with her. She needed his expertise to gather potential evidence from Mitchell Boyd’s computers. Carter seemed to welcome the break from life inside the Lair.

Mitchell Boyd opened the door. He gave Rainy the same arrogant smile as Tanner Farnsworth had.

Rainy showed Mitchell her ID. “Do you have a few minutes to chat?” she asked.

“What about?” said Mitchell.

“Lindsey Wells, for starters.”

“She’s missing,” Mitchell said.

“Yes, I know that.”

“Then what’s there to talk about?”

“Do you know where she is?”

“No. Do you?”

“When did you see her last?”

Mitchell shrugged. “I don’t really hang with her. I don’t know. School, I guess.”

“Is Tanner around?”

“Tanner who?”

“Your friend Tanner Farnsworth.”

“Haven’t seen him.”

“Would you tell me if you had?”

“Sure. Why not? Am I a suspect or something?”

“You tell me.”