EOTU by D. R. SMITH (summer books .txt) 📕

For more than one reason.

“The superior man understands what is right; the inferior man understands what will sell.”

                                                                                                                           -   Confucius

            August 3… one year earlier.

Kurt Lehman stood facing out the window of his office on the 30th floor of the Lehman-Coburn Building in lower Manhattan. His lawyer was expected at any moment. 'How deep was all of this going to go?' he asked himself. He questioned in his mind if it were possible that he would lose everything he had spent his entire life working toward. The unique idea he and his partner had spawned was born in Frankfurt as a legitimate and prosperous business venture. Come up with something no one else has ever made before, produce that product, sell it for a profit, bank the money, sleep at night. Simple enough. What made me change that process, he thought.

His eyes diverted to the street below. He watched as cars, buses, and trucks squeezed their way between buildings and each other. People crowding the sidewalks, scurrying like ants to their appointed destinations to do their appointed tasks. How many of them, he mused, knew what he had done? How many of them had DONE what he had done? Ever so tiny steps away from normalcy brings us to a point far from where we started. From where we originally wanted to go, he continued to ponder. And we wake up one sunny day staring in the mirror at someone we're unfamiliar with. He looked up and refocused on his own reflection in the window. Eyes looking into eyes for the first time in decades. Who am I, he thought.

Now looking past his reflection, he gazed out at the entire cityscape before him with a broader perspective and thought about the disaster he had bought his way into. With his hands dangling on the edges of his pant pockets, Kurt pondered what his life could've been...might have been... had he and Dieter Coburn not discovered their programming process that changed microchip data load capacity. He allowed himself to lean forward pressing his forehead against the cool glass.

“I am going to miss all of this”, he said out loud, his voice amplified by how close he was to the window.

Lehman had become one of those industry moguls in an industry not highly recognized by the public. KleinTek Inc was now indisputably the largest manufacturer of micro-technologies. Nearly every complex electronic device in the world today had some type of KleinTek circuitry, motherboard, or microchip in it. From cell phones to watches, laptops to jumbo jet guidance systems... KleinTek had crunched nearly every already existing technology down to its tiniest limit. What started out 15 years ago in a small office space in Germany, was now housed in over 35 buildings located in 20 cities around the world. Naturally, most of the production had by now been outsourced to China and only the assembly of final units was taking place outside China's borders. In spite of the repositioning of manufacturing, KleinTek still employed nearly 95,000 people worldwide and could claim to support another 15k to 17k personal household incomes through peripheral businesses. KleinTek's customer base was continually broadening as well and included some very unlikely clientele. But it wasn't until the U.S. Government joined the ranks of KleinTek customers that the troubles began. 

In an unfortunate twist of fate, KleinTek's development of micro technology in the area of ultra-high definition silicon photo pixilation, unknowingly connected them to a U.S./China conflict involving pictures taken of a highly classified secure area in Beijing. The unusually clear and sharply detailed photos taken from a U.S. Spy satellite were traced to the technology that China's Hangzhou Hikvision Digital Technology Company was manufacturing for KleinTek. This was, of course, covered in Hikvision's business contract with KleinTek which clearly stated that nothing they produce for KleinTek could be “used in or in assistance to the U.S. Government in the areas of external and/or international surveillance”. This demand was obviously sustained on both sides of the ocean. So it only made matters worse when the U.S. came out accusing KleinTek of allowing Chinese technology to be integrated into top secret military and CIA surveillance processes and equipment. This arose when the photos from 90 miles above Beijing somehow made it into the hands of the Chinese government. The logical conclusion was that this 'integration of technologies' was creating a security breach and if proven to be done with prior knowledge of its security issue, could constitute treason. The question had now become... were the 'unknowingly' and 'unintentional' parts truthful.

The overall take for KleinTek in these deals was upwards of $35 billion which made it hard to pass up regardless of the unforeseen consequences. Sure, Kurt knew he was beginning to swim in deep and muddy waters. But where there's no risk, there's no gain. Those risks had paid off financially. But the 'muddy waters' had started to swirl, thicken, and form a whirlpool that Kurt and KleinTek were caught in. Dieter Coburn had sold his half of the company to Kurt three years earlier and had stated that ‘he wasn't in agreement with the direction the company was headed’. Hence the whole thing was Kurt Lehman's to enjoy and to face. The visit from Lehman's lawyer was hopefully going to shed some light on the entire scenario... including those possible 'consequences'.

Kurt had just pulled his custom-made unbranded cell phone out of his pocket to check the time when the rap on the door pierced the silence of the office. Lehman touched an icon on his phone labeled 'security' which revealed several other icons. He touched the one titled 'OD'... office door. The lock clicked and the door then slid into the wall.

Harold Backman strolled onto the carpeted office floor with an attaché in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He was finishing up an apparent conversation with Sarina, Kurt Lehman's personal assistant, as he walked in.

“Yeah... they will do that, those little buggers! Well thanks anyway Sarina. Appreciate it.” His last word was literally sliced off as the door slid out and latched closed. He silently strolled across the room circling the couch and landing in his usual spot. Harold Backman was one of those people who could wear a $20,000 Armani suit and still come off looking sleazy. With his gray hair poorly colorized to near black and slicked back in a pseudo Michael Douglas fashion, Harold had achieved more of a car salesman persona than that of a movie star or even a lawyer. His clean shaven squared off facial features still allowed him to deny his 53-year-old maturity and would, by most women's standards, garner a second look. The only thing working against him was his undeniably slouchy way of carrying himself and his annoyingly screechy voice that ultimately rubbed anyone he met, wrong. But alas, when one is driving a $150,000 customized Porsche, regardless of one's appearance or personality, one will score. And Harold did have beautiful women around him continually.

Once he was settled into the cushiony Haute House furniture piece, he leaned comfortably back with one hand on his crossed leg knee and the other arm stretched along the top edge of the sectional. He was clearly wearing a less than enthusiastic expression on his chiseled face and was in fact looking directly into Kurt's eyes while ever so slightly shaking his head. He released a puffed cheek breath. Kurt broke the eye contact and stepped to the mini bar near the south window. The sound of ice clinking into a glass followed by the unscrewing of a cap and liquid cracking the cubes as it poured, ricocheted off the wall and window.

“A morning libation Harold?” Kurt offered up still facing the city outside. He lifted his own glass to his lips and took a sip of the 30-year-old Glengoyne Scotch.

“Well... I'm not exactly in a celebratory mood boss and besides.... it's only 9:30”, Harold responded tilting his watch towards him. “But you might want to make yours a double, Bud”

“I'm not amused Mr. Backman.” Kurt said dryly still facing away from Harold.

“I'm not trying to be funny Kurt. You've got some serious shit coming at you” Harold said with an almost sarcastic tone. By this time Lehman had settled into his desk chair and had propped his crossed feet up on the edge of the glass desktop. He held his drink out towards Harold in a toast-like manner.

“Alright... then go ahead and paint the shitty picture Mr. Backman” he said preparing to hear the worst.

“Will you please cut with the 'Mr. Backman' crap. Remember...I'm on your side, Kurt” Harold snapped. He was flipping open a laptop drawn from the leather case. After tapping a few keys, he nodded towards Lehman's computer monitor positioned on the desktop.

“OK... what you're looking at on your screen right there is a copy of your phone call records dating back to the time the meetings with Hikvision were taking place” Harold offered in his best business law voice. “Obviously these records are simply proof that these phone calls took place and have no content to display. Hikvision, on the other hand, is claiming that on the phone conversation that lasted …” He paused while he searched for the call in question among the long list of dates and times “... ok, wait... there it is... 23 minutes and 18 seconds on the 19th of November, that you stated … quote, you would not have a problem with an unaltered prototype of the XO54101 Version 3.9 chip being present in the new photo cartridge that was going to be sold to the Pentagon, close quote”

“Doesn't that incriminate them as well? I don't understand why they'd...?” Kurt attempted to point out but was cut off by Backman holding a hand up.

“Hold on... let me finish. They then claim that they quote, said NO, we don't want to go there. That would cause dangerous friction between our two governments, close quote” Harold said. “That's what they say they said... and they claim to have a recording of it” When Harold stopped speaking, he looked Kurt over carefully to gauge his response.

“If they can in the least way prove that you knew about this whole thing before OR after it all came down, you're toast pal” Harold reminded Kurt. “We're talking treason bud. Serious shit.”

Kurt was caught in a hypnotic stare at the ice and remaining whiskey he was spinning around inside the glass he was holding. He wasn't smiling but at the same time he was not projecting any particular concern on his face. His thoughts had drifted back to a visit he made to Haiti in January of the previous year. It was publicized as a ‘ten years later’ humanitarian follow up to the earthquake and cholera epidemic that had devastated the tiny nation. Although