The CleanSweep Conspiracy by Chuck Waldron

asked as if he were conducting an interview — in a way he was — but he was simply curious at that point. He wanted to fill in some of the “why” of Tanner’s story.
    “It’s always been about computers. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had a love affair with computer technology. I was finishing my doctorate in computer science when they targeted me.” Tanner took a few moments then, smiling and musing over some memory of a happier time.
    “Where was I? Oh yeah, going to work for the devil. It was toward the end of my third month working for Enseûrtech, and an e - mail popped up on my monitor from Claussen’s PA, his personal assistant. The e - mail was a demand disguised as an invitation. I was expected to make my appearance to give a kneel - before - the - king performance before the almighty Charles Claussen on the following afternoon. I knew that declining such an invitation was not an option.” Tanner smiled, remembering the story.
    “The subway wasn’t crowded that day. When I got to Claussen’s building, the guard at the security desk recognized me and called me by name as I walked through the door. I was flattered, I admit.”
    Matt watched Tanner take a long swallow of the scotch and brush a hand back through his hair. It didn’t help. Spikes of unruly hair refused to get in line.
    “I got on the elevator, and it stopped on the penthouse floor. Sitting behind the foyer’s single desk as I exited the elevator was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her dark eyes drew me to her like magnets. Her features were perfect. I heard her speak my name in a low voice, as if I were in a dream — she had a slight accent that was utterly beguiling. I remember that I started repeating my wife’s name over and over in my head: Ann … Ann … Ann. The magic that gorgeous creature was weaving vanished in the instant I reminded myself about Ann.” Tanner laughed at the memory, and Matt laughed along with him, to be polite.
    “You’re going to ask me about my first impression of him, eh?”
    Matt nodded.
    “He was not behind a desk, as you might expect. There wasn’t even a desk in his office. It was furnished like a museum, with elegant Victorian furniture. Clearly they weren’t reproductions. But two full walls and part of a third were nothing but floor - to - ceiling glass, giving the impression we were jutting out over the lake. The view from the top of the world can be awe - inspiring, and I was dutifully awed and inspired that day.
    “Charles Claussen was impeccably dressed, and for some reason I noticed his shoes. He was wearing a pair of loafers. I have no idea why his shoes seemed important at the time. They looked Italian, or like some exclusive European brand. I guessed they cost more than two months’ mortgage on my new town house. I remember wondering if he was amused when he caught me staring at his shoes.
    “When I first entered, he didn’t seem to acknowledge I was there. He was sitting on a sofa. Eventually he stood up, as if he had just seen that someone new was in the room. He offered me his hand in one smooth motion, a manner suggesting friendship. He didn’t beat around the bush. He asked me if I would be the one who would help him take Enseûrtech to the next level. There was no question in my mind that I was being interrogated. Sure, Claussen made it seem like a casual conversation with his hail - fellow - well - met manner. He asked questions and listened to my answers, nodding whenever it was called for. Then, abruptly, he stood and led me to the door. I knew my audience with the wizard was over. He was tired of my presence. He told me he wanted me to meet with his head of security, a woman named Angela Vaughn. We shook hands — all very formal — and suddenly I was left standing in the reception area, listening to the door close behind me.
    “I was puzzled by the interview, wondering why it was so lacking in detail. I finally decided he had merely wanted to see me for