“What will his stock be worth at the opening of your IPO?”
“About a million and a half dollars, but who knows? It could double that day.”
“How much was he being paid?”
“He started at seventy-five thousand. He was making half a million when he resigned.”
Herbie’s secretary walked in and handed him the contract.
“I’ve got the contract,” Herbie said, leafing through it. “I remember this one. His attorney asked for some minor changes that you agreed to, but if he leaves the company, he has to give you three months’ notice, and if he leaves during that time and you continue to pay him, he can’t work for anyone else. He also has a non-disclosure clause that prevents him from divulging any of your proprietary information to a new employer. How do you pay him?”
“All salaries are electronically transferred to employees’ bank accounts.”
“Then continue to pay him, to hold up your end of the contract. I’ll write to his lawyer and ask him to remind his client of his contractual obligations and to go and see you immediately. I think we should also start trying to locate him now.”
“Do you know someone who can do that?” Mark asked.
“I do,” Herbie said, “someone very good. I have to divulge to you that I have a personal relationship with this woman.”
“I’m not troubled by that,” Mark said.
“All right, I need you to e-mail me his original employment application and any letters of recommendation you received.”
“It wasn’t much of an application at that time, but you revised it, and I asked everybody to complete the new form, so I’ll send you both.”
“Was he married?”
“No, but he had a girlfriend who seemed to be living with him.”
“Her name?”
“Jasmine. I can’t remember a last name.”
“Okay, shoot me the information I asked for, and I’ll get the investigator on it right now. She may need to get in touch with you. Her name is Harp O’Connor, and don’t call her Harpie or Harpo.”
“Thanks, Herb.”
“Glad to be of help. I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear something.” Herbie hung up and dialed Harp’s cell number.
“Speak to me, Herb,” she said.
“I’ve got you a skip tracer job for a very important client. Can you start right now?”
“I’ll have to make a few calls, but I can start in half an hour. Give me the rundown.”
Herbie described his conversation with Mark Hayes. “I’ll e-mail you his employment application, any letters of recommendation, his contract, and the name and address of his attorney.”
“What do you want me to do when I find him?”
Herbie liked it that she said, “when,” and not “if.” “If he’s in town, I want to see him, face-to-face, at the earliest possible moment. If he’s in Silicon Valley or anywhere else, I’ll send you to talk with him. At the very least, I want to talk to him on the phone.”
“Gotcha. As soon as I make my calls and get his documents, I’ll hit the pavement. See you tonight?”
They had seen each other nearly every night since they had met, and she had slept at his apartment most of them. “You may be too busy,” he said. “We’ll talk. Bye.”
“Bye.”
They both hung up. Now, Herbie thought, I’m going to find out whether she’s as good as she says she is.
23
Harp O’Connor looked through the two employment applications Jimmy Chang had filled out, one on joining the company, another two years later, when the document was expanded. The first told her little, except his current address. She would start with that, but first she read the later document.
This listed his parents’ names and addresses, in two different California towns, San Mateo and San Rafael, both in the San Francisco area. It also listed his previous employers, but she didn’t reckon they would have any idea where he was, and she didn’t think that his parents were likely to rat him out; they would be a last resort. She phoned Chang’s attorney’s office, got the man on the phone, and requested Chang’s current location and phone number. She was stonewalled, so she took a cab downtown to Chang’s most recent address. She found a six-story apartment building with an “Apartment for Rent” sign outside. A man was standing on the doorstep, looking at his wristwatch.
Harp paid the cab and walked up the steps. “Good morning,” she said.
“Hi. You here to see the apartment?”
“Sure,” she said.
“Are you with John Trefford?”
“No, but I’m interested in the apartment.”
“Well, he’s late, so I’ll show it to you.” He unlocked the street-level door and they stepped inside and took the rickety elevator to the top floor. Some paint cans and folded drop cloths and a ladder were in the hallway outside the door.
“The painters will come back for that stuff,” the man said. “They just finished yesterday.” He opened the door for her, and they stepped inside. It was a very nice two-bedroom apartment with high ceilings, windows overlooking a planted garden, and a good kitchen. It was devoid of any evidence of the previous occupant. Even the wastebaskets were empty. The man told her the rent.
Harp sighed. “Too rich for my budget,” she said, “but thanks for showing it to me.”
“Maybe you’ve got a friend who’s looking for a place?”
“I’ll think about that.” She accepted the man’s card. “Say, did Jimmy Chang live here?”
“Yeah, that was the guy.”
“He’s a pal of mine. Do you know where he moved?”
“Nope. I just got an e-mail saying he was moving out at the end of his lease. That was three, four days ago.”
“Where did you send his security deposit?”
The man produced a notebook. “To his mother, in San Mateo, California.”
Harp already had that address. “Thanks again,” she said, and took the elevator down. A young man was waiting on the front stoop. “He’s up on the sixth floor,” she said, holding the door open for him. She looked around the front of the building for trash bags, but none were in sight.
Harp walked slowly down the block, checking out the shops along the way, until she came to a small but invitingly decorated restaurant. It was getting on toward lunchtime, so she went in and took a seat at the bar. She ordered a club sandwich and a beer, and watched faces as the place started to fill up.
The bartender sidled over. “You new in the neighborhood?”
“Yeah,” Harp replied. “I just looked at an apartment a few doors down.”
“I’ll bet that was Jimmy Chang’s place,” he said.
“That’s how I heard about it,” she said. “I got an e-mail from Jimmy.”
“You know Jimmy?”
“Yeah, we went out a few times a while back. You know where he moved to?”
“Out of the neighborhood,” the bartender said.
“How far outside the neighborhood?”
“About three thousand miles.”
“Ah, West Coast. Silicon Valley?”
“How’d you guess?”
“That’s where those computer geeks go, isn’t it?”
“It sure is. Jimmy said he doubled his salary.”
“No kidding? He was pulling down half a million at the old place-what’s it called?”
“High Cotton Ideas. They’re so damned hot, I’m surprised he walked.”
“Who would pay Jimmy a million a year?”
“He told me,” the bartender said, staring at the ceiling. “It’ll come to me in a minute.” Then he looked at Harp. “Hey, why do you want to know?”
Harp laughed. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not carrying his baby.”
The bartender laughed. “Yeah, Jasmine wouldn’t like that.”
“Yeah, she’s the new girlfriend, isn’t she?”
“Right.”
“What’s her last name?”
“Shaz something or other-something like Shazam.”
“Did you think of where he’s working?”
“I got it: TIT.”
“What?”
“Technology Investment Team. They’re whatchacallit… venture capitalists?”
“Right.”
“A name like that should have been easier to remember. They’re where that big college is.”