“I agree,” Javadi offered. “Myatlev’s approach makes sense to me.”
“He’s got my support as well. It’s just a good business decision, that’s all,” Shah said.
“Then we’re set?” Singh asked.
“Yes,” Myatlev confirmed. “Mr. Helms, you have your orders.”
Helms nodded and left the room without delay.
“One thing bothers me,” Sadiq said. “You had the opportunity to gain access to the devices, and you forfeited that in favor of some software deal and stealing a database? Why?” Sadiq asked. “Just think of what you could have done with the devices! Load them with C4, detonate all of them at the same time in a majestic attack of unprecedented greatness and effectiveness, and kill millions! How could you not see that opportunity, Myatlev? How could you give up access to the devices?”
“I never said I gave that up. Yes, we also control the devices, and at some point in the future, the plan will include them. I promise you will be satisfied, Mr. Sadiq.”
...68
...Wednesday, August 10, 10:03AM Local Time (UTC+5:30 hours)
...ERamSys Headquarters
...New Delhi, India
Alex opened the main entrance door, bracing for the temperature shock from the intense air conditioning. On her way to the elevator a lovely receptionist greeted her with a charming smile. She found harder and harder to see value in her presence in the New Delhi office of ERamSys, but she couldn’t leave either. This is where the secret lied. This is where she could uncover the conspiracy, or at least a solid lead to it. Yet, her entire plan to rattle their cages had proven very ineffective. Every day she had been more demanding, more insisting, yet she had gained access to precisely nothing. She had been almost rude sometimes, provoking Bal and his team, and had gotten nothing but passive aggressive bullshit, more PowerPoint presentations on the benefits of India outsourcing and the high quality of their work, and more lies. In short, she had made zero progress. Even Scott and Brent, the other two DCBI representatives onsite, had been unable to offer any useful advice. They were performing their work well, without any hindrances. But then again, their work did not touch the actual code. That simple fact, in itself, was a clue.
Then she changed tactics. She had approached the issue indirectly, trying to engage in conversations with the smokers on the roof, but everyone turned suspiciously silent at any mention of the code. She had found a sort of a friend in Priya, but even she wouldn’t disclose anything, or couldn’t. Her laptop continued to operate on a network completely isolated from the development environment, and any attempt she made to gain access to the rest of the network raised Bal immediately, no matter what time of day she attempted to penetrate their security. He even showed up immediately if she spent any extent of time behind one of the developers on the floor when they were working, or when she chatted with any of them. She was effectively locked out, and Bal seemed to be on premises 24/7, needing no sleep.
She looked across the software development floor, wondering what else she could try. While evaluating her options, she let her eyes wander. She continued to be surprised at the differences between genders in India. Men dressed almost like Americans, in shirts and slacks, sometimes wearing suits and ties. Women had preserved the traditional attire almost intact, opting for one of the two main styles, the sari, with its ample draping of colorful, shiny fabric, and the shalwar kameez, with its pajama-like pants that had to be very comfortable to wear in the brutal heat. Since she had landed in Delhi, she had learned to appreciate the local clothing wisdom, especially their strict preference for cotton fabrics. In the humid heat, cotton kept her cooler and drier than any Western polyester fiber mix. Smart. Women here were very smart, she had observed, focused more on practical things, while their men were absorbed by their immense egos and illusions of superiority. One time, she had asked Priya why such intelligent, apt women resigned themselves to allow these men to treat them like they were inferior beings, many times like servants. Priya had been confused by the question at first, but then she had said it was their custom, the way they had been raised. They loved their culture and their men as they were. They knew no other way.
Alex opened the door to her office and sat down in