Welcome to Golden, Chapter 5

When the alarm went off an hour earlier than usual, Billy considered silencing it and going back to sleep. He'd had a restless night with the previous day's events troubling his thoughts. At one point in the night, he'd gotten up and downed a shot of whiskey, but that didn't do its usual magic — he still tossed and turned. Finally, he found sleep, but the alarm clock woke him too soon. He lay there in bed, thinking about what Jenny had said. Obviously, she was keeping something from him, which led him to believe that the congressional investigation had been going on for some time and that the Foundation was closer to being shut down than he had ever imagined. While he knew his future was set — he’d already been offered jobs, one a professorship — it didn’t change the fact that he was vested in Golden and the McKenzies.

The scope of the troubles Golden was facing didn't bother him as much as the fact that Jenny felt she had to hide it from him. After storming out of the warehouse, Billy had calmed down and pretty much forgiven her for what she was doing. Everyone had a job to do and Jenny did hers well. If she didn't tell something to Billy, then there probably was a good reason to do so. But what did annoy him was the seizure of patient files. What was the motivation behind that? What were in the investigators after?

He rolled out of bed and got on the treadmill for a half-hour. He generally abhorred exercise, but he had one of the most sedentary jobs out there. Golden's long-term residents, despite physical therapy at least twice a day, still ended up with atrophied bodies — something he wished to avoid.

After a quick breakfast of toast and coffee, Billy headed into the office. He normally didn’t show up until about nine, but he wanted to get in early to face what was probably going to be a stressful day. He wasn't scheduled to go into Golden, but he had a lot of other things that needed to be done, including finishing the paperwork he walked out on the day before.

It was a beautiful Southwestern morning that greeted him outside of his modest apartment. His neighborhood wasn't the best in town, but he liked the little triplex he lived in behind a country and western bar near the fairgrounds. Friends gave him a hard time about living in such a place when he could afford much better, but he found that no one bothered him there. The area was less annoying than where most of the engineers lived by the university. The hipster aura near UNM felt insincere as though everyone were trying to out-cool everyone else. He liked the grittiness of his neighborhood with its multiple languages and the feeling you could easily be stabbed. Sure, there might be a drunk sleeping off a wild night in his front yard, and Manny the Homeless Guy always seemed to be hanging out in the neighborhood looking for aluminum cans, but it gave the area character. He'd never had his truck broken into or vandalized. Of course, not many people thought there was much to a thirty-year-old Ford pickup that smelled as if it had a gas leak.

He climbed behind the wheel and headed into work, a twenty-minute journey if he took surface streets and fifteen if he hopped on the freeway. This morning was definitely a surface street day and he cruised past the early-morning hookers walking down Central, then made his way north on Louisiana Boulevard past the malls. The Golden warehouse wasn't a secret — many people knew what went on inside — but its mission seemed contrary to those of its neighbors in the industrial neighborhood near the freeway. Most of the nearby warehouses were distribution centers for building materials and a block over was a sheet metal fabrication business. There also were several appliance parts stores and tile stores. In the evening, the neighborhood was a ghost town, but during the day there was the constant din of large trucks and blue collar work. It wasn't the kind of place you would find a bunch of egghead engineers, but there they were.

A lot of those engineers, as well as the medical staff, constantly complained about the Golden warehouse. The notion most had of a technology company was that it should look like a college campus, with grass and young people on bicycles. Instead, Golden's workers had to deal with a drafty building that was too cold no matter if it was summer or winter. There were few windows in the building and few amenities. There was a myth among the two hundred or so employees that eventually a new campus would be built that was a real world mirror of what they created within the computers.

The current warehouse, despite its industrial past, was a perfect location that could easily be secured. After checking in at the guard shack and swiping his card key at the front entrance, Billy made his way to his office, which at one time must have been a janitor's closet. His office was pretty bare; a desk and two filing cabinets shared space with a standard issue desk chair. There was a phone, but Billy wasn't sure it even worked — he'd never used it to make a call and no one ever called him there. He used his cell for all communications. As he entered, there was a youngish man in an expensive suit sitting at his desk; the senator's lackey. Billy had met him before several times and the man always smelled of expensive cologne and ambition. His nails were perfectly trimmed and his haircut cost much more than the $10.99 Billy spent at Supercuts.

“Ah, Dr. Watson, I've been waiting for you,” the fellow said. Billy did all he could to keep from sneering.

“Good,” Billy said, putting his bag on the desk. “Did you make coffee? Office rules are that the first one in has to make coffee.”

“Of course I didn't make coffee,” Jordan said, a slight snarl had formed on his lips. “I'm here, as an officer of the United States Congress, to assure you cooperate in our investigation; in which you hand over all files pertaining to the thirty-three current patients, the one hundred fourteen past patients and any potential patients who have participated or are considered to participate in the Golden Project.”

Billy silently sat down at in the chair across from his own desk, making a mental note to replace it with something a little more comfortable.

“Why?” Billy asked, not moving to help.

“I'm sure I don't have to remind you that as a representative of the U.S. Congress, I am not required to tell you about the nature of our investigation. Normally, I would inform you to file an Open Records request, but I will warn you that will take years, and you still won't find out why.”

“You don't have to be an asshole about it,” Billy said while standing. He reached in his pocket and tossed Jordan the key to the filing cabinets. “Is there anything you need from me, or am I required to watch you violate the rights of our patients?”

Jordan held out his hand as if expecting Billy to give him something. When he didn’t respond, Jordan cleared his throat. “I’ll need the computer file storage devices you keep in your pocket Dr. Watson.”

Billy jammed his hand into his pocket and pulled out two thumb drives containing back-up copies of all his files and placed them silently in Jordan’s hand.

Jordan pocketed the drives and smirked at Billy. He went to the filing cabinets and unlocked the first and efficiently pulled out a handful of manila folders, some thick, others not so much. Each contained the background information on the people in Golden, the ones who were next in line to get in and those who had been rejected, of which there were quite a few. Billy had been through each one after a committee of five psychiatrists, three foundation board members and two government representatives chose who got to go in and who did not. He wasn't part of the selection process, but Billy used the information contained in the files to familiarize himself with his patients. After a patient entered Golden, he rarely looked at the files again. Most of the relevant information from them were in the reports he handed into Health and Human Services, there were many copies of those floating around. Names were not used in those files, but Billy knew who they were. There also was an electronic copy of the files Jordan was now pawing through somewhere in a database. Billy was determined to look through those copies once he left the office and logged into one of the work stations in the warehouse.

“You see this as a violation of your rights,” Jordan said as he took the files and placed them in boxes. “But who is to say that it might be you who is violating the rights of everyday Americans? I'll tell you, it is Congress, and as you can see the courts tend to agree with me. Not you. Now, if you excuse me, I have work to do and your presence here is not required. However, I do have some questions for you. Please make yourself available when I am ready.”

“And if I don't?”

“Then I'll have an officer of the court find you and escort you off the premises to a nice office in the federal building downtown. In addition, I'll have you arrested for obstructing an officer. Think you can understand that?”

Billy's stomach knotted and he felt bile creep up his throat. He knew his face was turning red with a seething anger, but he forced himself to breathe and relax. A million snide comments ran through his mind, top most were a string of profanities, but he knew that would not help Golden, Jenny or Fred. He shook his head slightly in mock amazement and walked from his own office. He went looking for Jenny to apologize for his anger of the night before and rant about his current anger. Where were Golden's lawyers in all this?

She wasn't in her office, so Billy headed to the control room to talk with Ollie. The control room looked more like something from an old Cold War movie, with giant computer screens of data taking up every inch of space on the walls, especially toward the front. There were rows of people working at computer stations, just like they were readying a moon shot. At the main control desk behind everyone else sat Oliver Wendell Holmes, the head engineer for Golden. He was the man watching everything the computers did. Well, he didn't watch them, but he made sure everyone else was doing their job. When Billy walked in, Ollie was busy talking with one of his engineers, a young fellow with a straight-brimmed hat and blond hair fighting its way to get out that Billy had seen only a time or two before. The young engineer looked like he belonged more at a skate park than behind a computer, but there was no telling. It wasn't a tense conversation, but Ollie was speaking with an authority that told everyone within earshot that he would not tolerate slacking on that day.

“Listen Smith,” Ollie said to his engineer, “I know you’ve only been here a couple of weeks, but let me make this perfectly clear, I want you to go through the base code on the suits for visitors. If you find a glitch, I want you let me know before you try a repair.” The engineer nodded slightly and quickly left, knowing that this wasn't an arguing kind of day. Ollie went back to his desktop, ignoring Billy, who was standing behind him.

Billy was scared of Ollie, but not because he was black. The computer engineer was large — football player large. It wasn't a fat kind of big either — Ollie Holmes was a mixed martial arts fighter when he wasn't at work behind all his computer monitors. He was friendly enough, but treated Billy more like a big name director treats his starlet. In short, Billy didn't feel that he was accorded the kind of respect that he thought he deserved, but was too scared to say anything about it.

“I can feel you breathing on me, Dr. Watson,” Ollie said, not taking his attention from what he was doing. “Is there something you want?”

“Nothing, really. Uh … did you need anything from me in regards to the glitches?” Ollie finally looked up at Billy.

“I've got a man in Golden right now trying to get a first-hand look at them. Third guy I've had in this week, but the only one who reports these things are you. Maybe you can explain that one? Did you know I have to pay those guys overtime to go in there and give them three days sick leave after they get back?”

Billy wrinkled his brow and chose to ignore Ollie's accusation.

“Have you had them talk to Fred?”

“Yeah,” Ollie said. “It's the only thing that makes me think that something may actually be wrong. The old man scares my guys when they go in with his shouting and threats. He thinks it's hi-lar-i-ous. Crazy old bat.”

And then the conversation died. Billy had considered not telling Ollie about his Elvis sightings in Golden, but decided it might be important. The large man was already dubious of Billy's claims and this wouldn't help things. Billy always tried to be friendly with everyone in the control room, especially Ollie, but all he got for it was awkward pauses and abrupt conversations. He wasn't sure if it were him that Ollie didn't like, but Fred reassured him that despite his brusque manner Ollie liked the young doctor.

“Um … well,” Billy said as Ollie walked away from him. “There is something, I think you should know. I'm not quite sure how to explain this. Uh …” Ollie went about his business of checking monitors and tapping commands into a keyboard. Billy wasn't sure the big engineer was listening.

“Well … it's like this,” he continued. Ollie looked up from what he was doing, glaring at Billy as if the next words out the doctor's mouth were going to be the stupidest thing he had ever heard.

“Just say it, Dr. Watson.” Ollie was curt.

“When I'm in Golden, I feel like I'm being watched. Even when I'm alone in my office, I get the feeling someone is watching my every move. I can't quantify it in manner, it's just a feeling. Plus … I'm not sure if you guys had something to do with this … there seems to be an Elvis Seegee in there sort of acting like he's inspecting the place.” Billy was not able to maintain eye contact with Ollie.

“And you think this is caused by my equipment?” Ollie blithely went back to his work, disregarding Billy's admission

“I don't know what causes it,” Billy said, angry at himself and at Ollie. That anger found an edge in his voice. “But it's an anomaly within Golden and I'm supposed to tell you about them. Correct? I'm just doing my job. Do with it what you will.”

He took a deep breath and walked out before Ollie could respond. Escaping the awkwardness of the control room he headed to Glenda's office in IT to fill out his reports. Normally pleasant, she wasn't happy to see him and gave him grief for leaving so quickly the previous day, but eventually he found himself at a computer terminal typing up notes and saving them to Glenda who would file them with the proper government agencies. It took several hours and several cups of coffee, but he made it through. Not having anything else to do, he went round to look for Jenny. Again, she wasn't in her office but her secretary offered to reach her on her cell phone.

It was close to lunch time and Billy had gone back to the computer in Glenda's office to do a little research and go over some patient notes. He discovered that the digital copies of the patient files that Jordan was going through had been removed. He hadn't spent much time looking before a government guy came and escorted him to his own office.

“Dr. Watson, please have a seat,” Jordan said as Billy entered the room. It was much more crowded in there now. Not only was Jenny there, but also two of the Foundation's lawyers and what appeared to be a government attorney. Billy was shown to the uncomfortable chair in which he sat earlier and Jordan was behind his desk.

“This is just an informal interview, not a deposition,” Jordan said while pushing the record button of a small digital recording device. “We are simply seeking information on the day to day operations of the Golden Project.”

Jordan identified everyone in the room for the recording. Billy had hoped Jenny or one of the lawyers would say something and he was surprised no one had briefed him on what was going to happen. He looked to Jenny and when their eyes met, he could get nothing from them. Billy felt he had nothing to hide, but he didn't like the way things were playing out and felt no urge to help Jordan or his senator boss.

Jordan asked Billy about his background and how he came to be chosen for the Golden Project, easy questions that anyone with a computer and internet connection could find. Billy was then asked to explain what he did when he was in Golden, which took more time to accomplish with several interruptions by Jordan so that Billy could explain terminology. Billy was starting to relax a little, thinking that if this is what the questions amounted to, then he would be fine.

“I'd like ask you a few questions about some of the residents of Golden,” Jordan said.

“Patients,” Billy said leaning forward in his chair, “Golden doesn't exist except in a computer program. The people hooked into these machines are patients, not residents.”

Billy was proud of himself for correcting Jordan. He had been in the habit of calling them residents himself, it reminded people working on the Golden Project that these were people, not an antiseptic “patient.” For government purposes — where the language used in reports could be scrutinized by a court somewhere down the line, establishing definitions was important. Patients had more rights to privacy than residents might.

“Patients,” Jordan said, “right. Dr. Watson, how are patients chosen for Golden?”

Billy went through the long process, telling the recorder how candidates were picked, how he had no control over who was allowed into the program and who wasn't. His job was to assure the patients mental health needs were monitored and treated.

“Do you ever disagree with the decisions made by the committee about who is let in?”

“I have the utmost confidence in their decisions,” Billy said.

“Has there ever been any problems with a res … excuse me, patient, who was placed into the program?”

“What do you mean by problem?”

“Has there ever been anyone who, it turned out, did not fit into the program? Couldn't get along in Golden?”

Billy wasn't sure what Jordan was fishing for. If he'd read the files, he would have already known the answer was yes. Several residents had trouble in Golden. The first one that came to Billy's mind was Martha Easley, who literally went insane a week after entering the program.

Billy looked to the Foundation lawyers and Jenny for guidance and found only blank stares.

“Of course there's been patients who didn't adjust well to Golden,” Billy said, his early confidence waning.

“And still you have 'the utmost' confidence in the committee's decisions?” Billy didn't answer, he could almost feel what was coming next and Jordan didn't disappoint. The government agent pulled a sheet of paper from out of a folder.

“Please correct me if these are your words from a letter to the committee dated nearly a year ago after the death of … uh … Martha Easley. I quote from this letter, 'Dear Dr. Giles, as the lead psychiatrist for the Golden Project I feel it is necessary to point out some of the failures of your committee's selection process in regards to Ms. Easley.' These are your words, Dr. Watson?”

Billy nodded.

“Let the record show that Dr. Watson nodded in the affirmative. Now, Dr. Watson, in this letter you go on to criticize the committee's decision in granting Ms. Easley access into Golden, arguing that a more thorough background check on her would have caught her mental issues. Is this correct, Dr. Watson? Were these your words?”

“Yes,” Billy said.

“So are you still willing to say you have confidence in the committee's decisions?” Jordan leaned back and smirked, proud of the way he had sprung his trap.

“I do,” Billy said. “Listen, you may be able to make something appear to be different than what it is, but the truth is that we are working with ground-breaking techniques in several different fields of medicine, computer science and engineering. There will always be some amount of professional disagreement. That's how we learn about these things, Mr. Jordan. We're scientists, we go about learning by questioning every hypothesis. And when it comes to the mind, there are no pat answers, but we still strive to learn. So yes, I depend upon the selection committee and I disagree with them sometimes. But it is things like the Martha Easley incident that help us learn, help us from keeping it from happening again.”

Jordan never lost the smug look on his face, as if he was a hunter who set a successful trap. Billy didn't understand his confidence, but he suspected Jordan knew something that Billy and the rest of the Foundation didn't. It was unsettling and made Billy even more suspicious.

“Dr. Watson,” Jordan continued, “as someone who serves as doctor to these patients, you have a unique insight into how Golden is working and whether the selection process is getting the ideal candidates. What would you change with the selection process?”

Before Billy could say anything, Jenny and the Foundation's two lawyers were on their feet. “Objection!” one screamed a little louder than necessary. The other lawyer was a bit less excited.

“This line of questioning is purely speculative,” the lawyer said. “While Dr. Watson does have some insight into the selection process, he is by no means an expert on these matters and any answer he gives would be purely subjective.”

Now it seemed like his own attorneys were calling him an idiot and Billy's temper flared for an instant. He looked to Jenny, whose eyes told him to stay calm. Jordan smirked in self-knowledge. “This isn't a formal hearing, but if you would rather Dr. Watson answer these questions before a Congressional committee, that can be arranged. It's your choice.”

Silence fell over the room and Billy wished he had a glass of water to moisten his dry mouth. The Foundation attorneys and Jenny huddled in close, obviously excluding him. After a few whispered comments, they stood and faced Jordan.

“If Dr. Watson answers your questions, can we get a guarantee he will not be called to testify before Congress?” Jenny asked. Jordan shook his head, there was no way he was going to give up that privilege.

“I cannot guarantee that,” he said. “Dr. Watson is an important witness in the operation of Golden. I will, however, grant full immunity to any possible charges.”

Jenny's face flushed with the inference that there was criminal activity within the Golden Project, but through clenched teeth she hissed, “very well,” and sat down. Everyone returned to their seats and stared at Billy. It took a moment to realize they were waiting for his answer.

“Um … well. I think the current process to choose patients is the best possible way to do it,” Billy said. “You have to understand, Mr. Jordan, that our candidates usually are not cognizant enough to answer questions or submit to a full psychiatric background check. The committee has to rely upon information gleaned from medical records and family history and interviews to determine ideal candidates. It's my understanding that only half of 1 percent of the candidates are deemed qualified.”

“And have you encountered any patients who were not suitable for Golden? Who probably shouldn't have been there?”

“Of course,” Billy said. “But that doesn't mean the process for choosing patients for the project is invalid. A small percentage aren't suited for Golden. And of the one hundred fourteen people who have been patients, only one has had to be removed.”

“Easley?”

“Yes. We generally don't like to pull people out of Golden except in extreme cases. The shock to their bodies, we believe, is too difficult. Plus, there's a feeling that it would be inhumane.”

Billy was making a pointed argument at Jordan, but the government man didn't indicate whether it made a difference to him or not. He was looking for something else.

“So you believe the screening process is sufficient?”

“Yes.”

Jordan looked down to his notepad and made several marks. Billy was pretty good at reading writing upside down — a skill he picked up in college from therapy sessions all students were required to attend — but Jordan was pretty good at blocking his view.

“You may leave now,” Jordan said, “but be prepared to give testimony in Washington in several weeks. I'm sure the committee will be interested in some of your answers.”

Billy looked to Jenny who motioned with her head for him to leave the office. She didn't look very happy even though Billy felt like he had nailed the interview. He left the room and wandered down to the canteen to get a cup of coffee, going over in his mind the odd line of questioning. He chose a remote table and fiddled with his drink. His phone buzzed in his pocket; Jenny sent him a text telling him to stay where he was, that she would join him soon.

He hadn't thought much about lawyers, but Billy was fascinated by the little game in which he had just taken part. Jordan was obviously up to something, but there was no telling what. Maybe the Foundation attorneys knew what was going on, and that they tried to make him look like an unimportant member of the Golden Project for a reason.

When Jenny arrived, the answers weren't any less puzzling.

“You shouldn't have been so accommodating to him,” she told Billy as she sat with her own cup of coffee.

“I hardly think I accommodated him. I did everything to defend Golden.”

She laid a hand on his and smiled. “I know,” she said. “But that may not be what we need. The attorneys seem to think that there might be something in our files that implicate our selection process. We suspect they'll be looking closely at the process in which your own grandmother — and my father — were chosen to be part of the project. It may look like you were quieted on your criticism of the selection process by allowing your grandmother into Golden. With your testimony — the letter and what you said afterwards — it could sure sound like conspiracy.”

Billy took a sip of his coffee noticing that Jenny hadn't removed her hand. It felt warm and nice, and he had to keep his mind from wandering to romantic thoughts. She probably was only trying to comfort him. He squeezed it slightly to let her know she could let go, but she didn't.

“She went through the screening process like everyone else,” Billy whispered. “There weren't any special favors handed out to me, you know that.”

Jenny didn't say anything, she just smiled slightly and shrugged. “I don't have anything to do with the selection process, but we don't know what was on the minds of the committee members. They all know you and, with a few exceptions, all like you. Look, we don't even know if that's what Jordan's after. It could only be a small part of his investigation, and would certainly not be enough to shut Golden down.”

Billy didn't know what to say, he knew she was lying. It pointed to larger problems and he didn't even want to think about the implications. If there was evidence of fraud, though, it would be in the files the government just seized.

“Don't we have a copy of those files? Can't we just comb through them and find out what he's got?”

“We don't,” she said. “They seized all copies before we could take a close look. We didn't even know that's what he would come after. Do you remember anything in them that would raise any red flags?”

He thought, but there was nothing. He'd looked at them only once for each patient, transferring any relevant information for his job to his own notes. Billy shook his head and offered what he could. “I'll look through my personal notes and see if there is anything.”

Without a beat, Jenny removed her hand and said, “Don't tell Dad about any of this. Or any of the other patients for that matter.”

She stood and moved away without saying anything to Billy and began verbalizing her own mental list.

“I've got to catch the attorney before he leaves the building, come up with a plan of action and take care of the HR files that Joan got to me earlier, and of course I have to talk to the board president …”

As she left the room without so much as a goodbye, Billy took some comfort in Jenny being herself, even if she was stressing out over Golden. Billy told himself not to read too much into Jenny's quick exit and he went over his own mental list of things that needed to be done, which included going through the paperwork he had on his grandmother to see if it implicated him in anything illegal.