Joseph Finder - Power Play

"I could transfer funds out of one of our accounts from a laptop at Starbucks," Slattery said wearily, taking off his glasses and running a hand over his forehead. He closed his eyes and pushed against them with a thumb and forefinger, as if trying to massage a headache away.

"You're kidding," Lummis said.

"No, unfortunately, I'm not," said Slattery.

"Hold on a second," Kevin Bross said. "Are you telling me that any lunatic could just put a gun to your head and empty the company's treasury? We don't have any security procedures in place? I don't believe it."

There was something about Bross's tone-he sounded incredulous, but in an exaggerated way-that made me suspicious. Then there was the look of irritation that Slattery gave him in response. Bross, I realized, already knew the answer. He gave a quick, furtive glance at Bodine, seemed to be performing for him. Bodine's eyes were open, but the lids were drooping.

"It's more complicated than that," Slattery said.

"Yes or no?" Bross demanded. "Do we or don't we have at least some kind of security measures?"

"Ron," said Cheryl, "you don't need to get into this. It's beside the point."

"Well, I want to hear it," said Bross. "It's very much the point."

"Don't even dignify that, Ron," Cheryl said.

"The fact is," Slattery said, "the bank's computers don't know if they're talking to a computer inside Hammond headquarters in L.A. or at a laptop in a Starbucks or some old Macintosh in a fishing lodge in British Columbia."

"How is that possible?" said Bross.

"Well, it's-anytime you log on to our system from outside the headquarters building, you're creating a virtual tunnel into what's called the VPN-the Hammond virtual private network. All the bank computers see is a Hammond IP address. An outbound gateway. For all the bank knows, it's getting a message from my office on the thirty-third floor on Wilshire Boulevard."

"Can we move on, please?" said Cheryl. "This is irrelevant."

"Even when we're talking about a hundred million dollars?" Barlow said.

"Doesn't make a difference how much," said Slattery. "It's just a little more elaborate."

"Ron," Cheryl said, "enough."

But Slattery kept going. "For large, sensitive transactions the bank requires two authorized users to make the request. Then on top of that, there's dual-factor authentication."

"Which is?" Barlow said.

"Forget it," said Cheryl. "We're not making any transfer."

"Sounds to me," Hank Bodine suddenly said, "like you're trying to shut him up. I want to hear this."

Cheryl just shook her head, furious. She did seem to want to keep Slattery from talking.

"You enter a user name and password as usual," Slattery said, "but you also have to use a secure ID token. Which generates random, one-time passwords-six-digit numbers-every sixty seconds. You take the number off the token and enter it on the website."

"So, if we don't have one of those doohickeys with us, we can't do the transfer," Barlow said. "Simple as that. I'm sure you don't carry one around with you, right?"

"It's on my key ring, upstairs in my room," Slattery said. "But Russell's probably got it by now."

"These fellas aren't going to know what it is," Barlow said.

Slattery shrugged. "If they know what they're doing, they will. The bank logo's printed right on there."

"Anyone else have a token like that?" asked Barlow. "I don't."

"Just the ones who have signing authority."

"Signing authority," Barlow repeated.

"The ability to authorize a financial transaction greater than, I think, fifty million dollars. Authorized users."

Cheryl turned slowly to Ron Slattery. "I don't believe I have such a token," she said.

"That's because you don't need to dirty your hands with all that financial…plumbing work. It's just for the guys like me who have to, you know, roll up our sleeves and do the operational stuff."

"Such as?"

He hesitated. "You know, the corporate officers who're involved directly with the finances."

"'Authorized users,' as you put it."

"Basically, yes. Officers who have signing authority at that level." Slattery was starting to sound evasive.

But Cheryl was unrelenting. "Such as? Who has the signing authority at that level? Besides me, I mean."

Slattery gave a tiny shake of his head, as if silently cuing her to stop asking.

"What are you telling me?" she said.

"I mean-well, actually, you don't."

"I don't what?" Cheryl said.

"Don't have signing authority," Slattery said. "Not at that level. Not for a one-off cash transaction of that magnitude, anyway."

Cheryl's cheeks immediately flushed. She pursed her lips. "I see. Then who does?"

"I do, of course," Slattery said. "And the Treasurer. The General Counsel, and the Controller. Latimer, Grogan, and Danziger."

"And Hank, I assume."

He nodded.

"Anyone else?"

"No."

"I see," Cheryl said.

"Did I just hear what I thought I heard?" Bross said, his mouth gaping. "You actually don't even have the power to stop us from wiring out the funds, do you? Since you don't have the power to authorize it."

Cheryl looked at him for several seconds, her nostrils flaring. "Perhaps not. But I'm the CEO of this company, Bross. And if I hear any more of your insubordination, you're going to be cleaning out your office."

"If any of us survive," Barlow said.

"We're not wiring a hundred million dollars to these criminals," Cheryl said. "It's as simple as that. Whether or not I have the technical authority to sign off on a payment of that size, the fact remains: I will not allow it."

"Cheryl, please," said Slattery. "We all know what he's going to do if we refuse. Please."

"Once we give in to this extortion, it'll never stop," she said. "I'm sorry."

"You know," Barlow said, "I don't think you have the power to stop us. Am I right, Ron?"

Slattery glanced anxiously from Cheryl to Barlow, then back again.

Cheryl examined the rope around her wrists. "Ron," she said in a warning tone, without looking up.

"Cheryl," Slattery said. "I-" Then he met Barlow's hard gaze, his raisin eyes. "Yes," he said. "Basically that's right."

Still studying the rope, Cheryl said softly, "I expect more than that from you, Ron. I expect your complete support."

Slattery turned to her, but she didn't look up. "I'm-I'm sorry, Cheryl. Forgive me. But this is just-this happens to be the one case where we disagree. We really have no choice but to give the guy the money he wants. But-"

"That's enough, Ron," Cheryl said, cutting him off. You could almost see the icicles hanging down from her words. "You've made yourself clear."

I saw the tears in Ali's eyes and felt the bad wolf start to stir.

Correct me if I'm wrong, Cheryl," Kevin Bross said, "but aren't you the reason we don't have a choice?"

Cheryl gave Bross a quick, cutting glance, then looked away. "I think we're done with this discussion," she said.

"We've just begun," Bross said. "Tell them, Ron. Tell them about the security measures you were pushing for. Which Cheryl turned down."

Slattery's sallow complexion immediately colored, but he said nothing.

"Oh, really," Cheryl said.

"Ron?" Bross prompted.

Slattery blinked rapidly, remained silent.

"Go ahead, Slattery," Hank Bodine said. "Let's hear it."

Slattery looked first at Bodine, then at Cheryl, and he said, "It's just that-I had my team draw up a plan to implement much stronger security on the company's website. I was concerned about, you know, hackers from Lithuania or Ukraine being able to get in and do all kinds of damage. Or steal code and blackmail us. This kind of thing happens to U.S. companies all the time now."

"Are we seriously going to rehash all of this now?" Cheryl said. "This is neither the time nor the place-"