Page 36 of Only the Devil
“Well, it’s a lot of education. But yes, you get a territory.”
“And then you knock on those doors,” Ned says.
Toby breathes in a dramatic, deep breath to insinuate Ned causes him pain, then he holds out his balled-up hand to fist bump me. “Good to meet you. Love the boots.” His gaze skates to my Doc Marten’s. “My sister wore those all the time in high school.”
Was that an underhanded dig? I squelch the urge to show Toby how great these boots are for kicking and return to my office.
The salesman aspect of this business explains the cluster of investors in Los Angeles. The theory had been that Uncle Alvin was the one selling it to his contacts to get the referrals, but maybe an eager-beaver telemarketing salesman hit up the neighborhood—or weaseled his way into a Gamblers Anonymous meeting.
I step into Ned’s cubicle and bend my legs, leaning closer to show I have a private question.
“So, I’m working on this idea. Concept if you will,” I say.
“For the program they want you to write?” Ned asks. “That’s what you’re here for, right?”
“Yeah.” I shared the gist of my job when we met last week.
“These sales guys? Are they targeting—” I swallow, realizing the moment I utter the word targeting how that sounds, “How do they identify prospective clients? Do they get lists from somewhere?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says. “We buy lists from all over. That’s part of what I do. Write marketing messages customized to specific lists.”
“What do the lists target?”
“Investment accounts,” he answers matter-of-factly. “There’s no point in going after someone if they don’t have any money.”
“Right. Do you think… Could you take me through what data points you have?”
He looks at his darkened screen, and then his wrist. “We can schedule a meeting later, maybe?”
I twist the silver ring on my index finger, processing this information. If they’re targeting investment accounts, that’s a data-driven approach I can map and analyze.
“After lunch?” he asks. “I have meetings all morning.”
“That’d be great,” I say.
“Why don’t we grab lunch? I’ll get you after my last meeting ends.”
“Great.” My answer sounds way too eager—at least to my ears. Sure, last week not a single person asked me to lunch, but that’s probably only because when I wasn’t in meetings I remained cloistered away in my office, digging away at the network.
Back in my office, I close the door and lean against it for a moment. The rumors, the speculation—it’s all noise. I need facts. I need data.
Ned’s explanation explains why my mother wasn’t targeted, even though she lives in the same shitty apartment complex. My mother doesn’t have an investment account. I know because I’ve been paying her bills since I was fifteen years old.
It also explains why Uncle Alvin was targeted. I was thinking it was his presence at a Gamblers Anonymous meeting. But it might not be that sinister. He may have simply been targeted for the size of his investment accounts. And maybe his age. Now I wonder how much money he lost. His bank statements weren’t in the pile of collection notices. I could totally see him sitting on a sweet nest egg and staying in the same run-down apartment under the belief he didn’t need anything ritzy.
In my encrypted, secure messaging app, I do a quick Google search but come up empty, so I message Jake. KOAN has access to official law enforcement channels I can’t easily access.
* * *
Can you search for any official communications that have gone out about Jocelyn? Someone at the office believed she’d committed suicide. That doesn’t match with what Quinn found.
* * *
Then I click into the Sterling system. I want to learn what data points they’re buying. My job here is to create a system that better forecasts crypto trends, winners, and losers. Although, it looks to me that what he’s really doing is buying meme stocks when they’re new and hot, banking on the rise, and dumping before they crash. And he wants me to build an algorithm that better tells him when to buy and sell. It’s a stretch to argue that I need to know the basics of how they are selling funds to investors, but it’s all data. If Toby can convince a woman in Arkansas who probably has no idea what crypto is to buy into a crypto fund, then I can convince the powers that be that in order to build that magic money-making tool, I need access to all their data.
* * *
Jake
