Chapter 7

Darren stepped into Marcia’s cubicle. “I just met with Kyle,” he said. “He can work with the reporting specifications we provided. I made sure he understood they’re preliminary. I also discussed hosting options. I think we agree we want it hosted on our hardware.”

“Thanks for running with this,” she replied. “I’ve been up to here with day-to-day problems. Rebecca will be out on vacation next week and I’m her designatee.”

“Can you break away for our meeting with Jim?”

“Shit, that had sipped my mind. Yeah-- I’ll need to move a call.”

“We can swing by the hotel and pick up our parcels.”

Marcia manipulated her keyboard. “Okay, let’s go.” She picked up her purse and they headed for the parking structure.

She drove to the hotel and Darren retrieved the two cases and a cardboard box from the establishment’s secure storage. She released the trunk latch and he dropped the items into her trunk.

Marcia drove to an office building. They approached a receptionist who led them into Jim Young’s private office. A medium-built white-haired man in white shirt and tie greeted them.

“Marcia, Darren, good to see you,” he said. “What brings you here?”

“We spent Saturday clearing Rob’s belongings from my condo,” Marcia said. “Rob’s parents agreed to take it off our hands. We ran across a few things that we weren’t sure about.”

Darren popped open the small case. “I know one stipulation on the restraining order is he can’t possess firearms,” Darren said. He opened the large case. “We didn’t think it would be prudent to hand these over to his parents as they might too easily fall into the wrong hands.”

“Hmm...” Jim mused. “They probably should go to his folks along with his other personal property. If the Alford plea goes through, Rob will be a convicted felon and prohibited from possessing these for life. Even so, he should be given the opportunity to dispose of them gainfully. I think I’ll pass these along to his attorney for appropriate disposal.”

“There’s something else.” Darren opened the cardboard box.

“Well, well,” Jim said. “This is a horse of a different color.”

“We thought Rob was making unauthorized AR-15 receivers,” Darren explained, “so we called the authorities and were told these are eighty percent blanks.”

“That’s what they are,” Jim replied. “As such they’re non-functional, which makes their possession perfectly legal for anyone, even a convicted felon.”

“The officer said gun hobbyists work these up to build DIY firearms. I had no idea that sort of thing is legal.”

“It is, and I believe it’s a loophole in the gun laws,” Jim replied. “They are legal for personal use. Assuming he’s not otherwise prohibited from owning firearms, anyone can convert a blank receiver into a functional one. He also can order the rest of the parts -- barrel, upper receiver, stock and so on to assemble a working AR-15. It’s known in the trade as a ghost gun -- because it’s untraceable. You can find websites that sell these along with drill bits, jigs, stencils and detailed instructions on how to finish them.”

“Rob is a machinist,” Marcia said. “He would have the know-how to complete one of these.”

“He certainly would,” Jim replied. “A completed, functional receiver can be of significant value on the black market. I think it more likely that Rob bought these at a gun show or similar and may have been finishing them and selling them.”

“And, that would be illegal,” Marcia remarked.

“It certainly would be. Like I said, purchasing and possessing these is perfectly legal and proving Rob has been modifying and selling these will be difficult.”

“What would one of these blanks cost?” Darren asked. “And, what would a finished one fetch?”

“On the web they go for between one and two hundred,” Jim replied. “They probably could be had for less at a gun show or swap meet. A finished ghost rifle could fetch a thousand from the right buyer.”

“That much?”

“There are those willing to pay that much for an untraceable assault rifle.”

“That’s quite a markup,” Darren mused.

“Indeed,” the lawyer replied. “I think I’ll pass this along to the district attorney. There have been a few ghost AR-15s confiscated from crime scenes lately. If there is a way to trace the receivers in those guns to this batch of blanks -- then, Rob might find himself in considerably hotter water than he’s already in.”

Darren sat in the passenger seat as Marcia headed back to the Westmar building.

“What do you think of what Jim said about those blanks?” she asked him.

“I can understand why some hobbyist would want one to take on the challenge of building his own rifle. I don’t understand why anyone would need a half dozen, unless it’s to finish them and sell them.”

“So that explains what Rob was doing while I was working long hours and weekends,” she said. “He had a little side business of his own.”

Marcia pulled into the Westmar parking structure and parked in her assigned stall. Darren accompanied her to the elevator and to the twelfth floor.

Freddie approached Darren. “I’d like a word in private,” he said.

“Sure...”

“Excuse us, Marcia,” Freddie said. Darren followed him into the Blue Room. Freddie closed the door. “Darren -- I wanted to tell you how impressed we are with how you took over this project and led it to completion.”

“It’s not done yet,” Darren replied. “You know the saying about many slips twixt cup and lip.”

“Nonetheless, you brought it to a place where we can see the final result is within grasp. I was telling Kirk that you’ve shown us that we need someone who can bridge the business and technical sides. We’ve also spoken to Ray MacNeil about this.”

“What does Ray say?”

“Oh, he agrees with us. We want to create a position we call Business Systems Specialist -- someone who can translate business needs into information technology requirements.”

“I think that’s a smart thing to do,” Darren replied. “If you’d like some help recruiting someone...”

“We’d like to offer that position to you, Darren,” Freddie said. “We’d offer you a salary of a hundred eighty thousand a year, plus a twenty thousand signing bonus.”

“I ... I’m flattered,” Darren replied. “It’s a generous offer. How did you come up with that figure?”

“We derived it from your fee,” Freddie replied, “after deducting what we believe are reasonable expenses and overhead, and annualizing it. Then we added another fifty thousand. We like you, and we like the work you do.”

“I thought this sort of role is what Marcia is being groomed for.”

“We’re very fond of Marcia,” Freddie said. “She’s bright, talented and dedicated -- but she’s too green. We feel she needs some guidance and seasoning. In our minds she would report to you as her manager and mentor.”

“Instead of reporting to Rebecca?”

“We think reporting to you would benefit her growth better.”

“Umm ... Freddie ... Marcia and I are ... involved ... romantically.”

“Oh ... I had no idea.”

“I don’t how Kirk feels about...”

“Well, it does indeed present a difficulty. Kirk doesn’t want to get involved in his associate’s private lives ... however, he draws the line when it comes to romantic involvements with clients or subordinates.”

“I agree,” Darren replied. “I think intramural relationships are fraught with danger.”

“So, I think we understand our terms,” Freddie said. “This is something you and Marcia would need to work out. We don’t need an answer right away. Take some time to think it over.”

“Next week I’m flying to Pittsburgh for some ... personal business,” Darren said. “It will give me some time to consider your offer.”

“Yes, you can give us an answer when you return.” Freddie stood and offered his hand. “I hope you’ll be joining us, Darren. Oh, by the way ... Please keep this conversation under your hat until the details are finalized.”

“I certainly will,” Darren replied. “Discretion is my middle name.”

Darren drove his Ford Explorer towing a small U-Haul trailer into Marcia’s condo complex and parked along the curb near her unit. He headed toward her front door and was about to open it with the keys she had given him when it swung open and she greeted him. He scanned her up and down -- she wore pair of running shorts and a white sleeveless blouse, the tails of which she had rolled and tied above her navel. Through the fabric he could discern a hot pink bra. She threw her arms around him and they kissed. “I missed you so much,” she said.

“I was only gone a week,” he replied.

“The new bed was delivered. Want to see it?”

“Sure.”

She led him upstairs and to the master bedroom. “Wow -- that’s nice ... sleigh bed.”

“King sized, too,” she said.

“You painted the walls. It’s a pretty lavender.”

“It’s my favorite color. I went with a shade that’s subtle and not in-your-face. Do you like it?”

“I do. We’d better get that trailer unloaded so I can turn it in.”

“Right -- and before we get complaints from the condo association.”

Darren opened the doors on the trailer. “What all is in here?” she asked.

“Well, mainly office stuff and my clothes. I agreed to let Stephanie keep all the furniture. We can stash all this in the spare bedroom until I have a chance to sort it out. I’ve started the process of relocating my business here. I’ll need to find an inexpensive office to rent that’s not too far from here.”

“You said you could run your business from anywhere,” Marcia said. “How about using the spare room as an office?”

“I thought you wanted a guest room,” he replied.

“It could serve dual duty. For the number of guests we’d have, it doesn’t make sense for a dedicated guest room. I thought maybe we could install a Murphy bed that we could fold down when we have overnight company. Otherwise, it could be your office.”

“Worth considering,” he mused. “I told you about my office assistant. I really don’t want to let Beverly go -- she’s been with me from the start and her husband is unwell. We decided to let her try working from her home in Pittsburgh while I work here.”

“Using the spare room would save you rent,” she remarked.

“Yeah, it sure would.”

Darren began carrying boxes into Marcia’s condo and up the stairs to the spare room. “I’ll have plenty of time to get this set up as I wind down the Walnut Street project,” he said, “and ramp up the next one.”

“I can start organizing your side of the closet,” she replied. “We’ll probably need to buy hangers, though.”

“We have all day tomorrow to work out those logistics.” Darren carried the last box to the spare room.” Since today I’m officially moving in, I wanted to celebrate. Let’s make reservations for dinner -- your choice and the sky’s the limit. Any place you want to go?”

“I’ve heard Leon’s is nice,” she said.

“Then let’s make reservations at Leons. I’ll take this trailer back so I won’t be charged another day for it. Umm ... Where should I park?”

“I have an assigned carport,” Marcia replied. “It’s in the middle of the condo complex -- it has my unit number on it. You can park there. I prefer to park by my unit, especially if I’m working late and coming home after dark. I don’t like walking that distance late at night.”

Marcia modeled her outfit for him. “What do you think?”

“Your little black dress from the conference. You look stunning.”

“You look like a yacht captain in those gray slacks and navy blazer.”

“Right -- all I need is a cap and a cravat.”

Darren sat in the passenger seat as Marcia drove across town. She pulled into a lot adjacent to a white stucco building in a Mediterranean style. “Leon’s is a gourmet Italian restaurant,” she said as she parked.

“Have you been here?” he asked.

“No, but some in the office recommend it highly.”

Holding hands they approached the hostess’s podium. “Darren Small,” he said. “We have reservations -- a party of two.”

“This way, please.” She led them to a table in a corner.

Darren held Marcia’s chair as she sat. “You were getting looks,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “I hate it when men gawk at me. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I hate it when men gawk at me, too.”

“Silly -- I meant when they gawk at me.”

“They can look all they want,” he replied, “so long as they don’t try to touch.” He opened his menu. “It looks like their menu is prix fixe.”

“I see that ... a four-course meal. Since it’s prix fixe, I’m going with the lobster.”

“Excellent choice. Maybe I’ll go with the pheasant.”

“How can you eat a pheasant?” she asked. “They’re so pretty.”

“It’s not one I knew personally. I’ll order a bottle of their house special prosecco. It’s bubbly like Champagne.”

“I’ll make an exception tonight.”

Their server arrived and Darren placed the order.

“I have some news,” she said.

“So do I, but you go first.”

“I had my initial divorce hearing. Since Rob is in custody, they brought him in wearing an orange jail jumpsuit and in shackles. He didn’t speak with me or even look at me. His lawyer stated that he’ll agree to everything Jim wrote as stipulations. It was over in about five minutes. I told Jim that I want to revert to my maiden name. Frank was there.”

“Rob’s dad?”

“Yes, and he approached me and apologized on behalf of his son.”

“That was a decent gesture,” Darren remarked. “So, what’s the next step?”

“Now we’re in a one hundred twenty day waiting period.”

“I went through something similar in Pittsburgh and now Stephanie and I are in a ninety day waiting period.”

“There’s more,” she said. “Rob had his court hearing on his Alford plea. It was accepted by the judge, including the proposed sentencing.”

“Good -- that’s behind us.”

“There’s even more. Jim told me this wasn’t for public consumption, so keep it to yourself.” She lowered her voice. “At about the same time as his hearing, the Feds got a search warrant and searched Rob’s truck, which has been impounded since his arrest on the bail violation. They found another receiver, but this one was finished and operational. They also have a ghost gun confiscated from a gang member with a receiver very similar to the one they found in Rob’s truck.”

“So, Jim’s assessment was correct.”

“Indeed. Rob’s family pleaded with him to cooperate, and he decided to turn -- to help the feds track down the criminals possessing these guns. He admitted to finishing four of the blanks we found.”

“That leaves three in circulation,” Darren mused.

“Rob claims he didn’t know what he was doing was wrong, and he had no idea what the finished goods were used for.”

“Do you believe that?” Darren asked.

“Rob’s not that stupid or gullible,” she replied. “He’s still looking at serious charges and won’t be heading to work-release any time soon. I’m sure there’s going to be more to come. Jim is doing his best to keep my name and the firm from any adverse publicity.”

“So, we stay tuned.”

“Right,” she said. “What’s your news?”

“I told you about Stephanie and the divorce, and about Beverly working from home. The other news is ... Do you remember Freddie taking me aside after our meeting with Jim?”

“Yeah ... What was that about?”

“Freddie offered me a job at the firm. He said Kirk and Ray have approved it. It was a very generous offer.”

Marcia’s eyes widened and she smiled broadly. “That’s good news, Darren. Really good.”

“It’s a new position they’re creating -- Business Systems Specialist. I’d report to Freddie.”

“Freddie looks shifty but he’s really a very good boss,” Marcia remarked. “Darren -- you’d be crazy not to accept this job.”

“There’s more ... I’d be responsible for bridging the business side and the technical side, for developing requirements and making sure systems solutions fit the business needs.”

“I ... I thought that’s what I was hired to do,” she replied.

“It was and it is. They’re very fond of you, Marcia. Freddie told me so. You have talent, and that’s not something you can train -- it’s intrinsic. You do lack experience.”

“I’ve learned so much from you already,” she said.

“You have, indeed, but there’s more for you to learn. Freddie’s idea would be that you report to me. I’d serve as your manager and mentor.”

The color drained from her face. “But ... Kirk won’t allow our sort of a relationship between a manager and a direct report,” she said. “That’s one thing he hammers home all the time -- no romantic involvement between associates and clients or direct reports.”