could decipher the meanings of some of them, like “document date” and “author,” but others, like “req loc ref,” were gibberish to me.
“This isn’t running on the Internet, is it?” I asked.
“No way,” Coe answered, looking aghast. “It’s running on an intranet we’ve set up. That’s like a private Internet.” Vetter clicked a button labeled “Search,” and almost instantly the results appeared in the form of a list.
“See,” Vetter pointed at the screen. “We got 124 items in all. We show the first twenty on this list. We can pick one and read the abstract.” He highlighted an item and clicked another button. A new window opened, displaying a couple of paragraphs of text. “Or, we can see the original.” He clicked another button and another window opened, this one containing the image of a document on MWB letterhead. It looked like a letter to a client.
“And if we want, we can then go and find any other documents that reference this same client,” Coe said. Vetter demonstrated. The engine came back with 568 items, the first twenty of which were displayed on the screen.
“And if you need to find everything written by a particular person?” I asked.
“No problem,” Vetter said, and he showed me.
“And for all of the items in the database, you keep track of where each one was found?” I asked.
“Yep,” Coe answered. We were all quiet for a while.
“And you also use the system to keep track of who has requested which documents?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah. Everything gets logged—including who made a request, the date they made it, what they asked for, what we sent them in return, and when we sent it,” Coe said.
“What about searches like the ones you just ran?”
“Online queries? Those get logged too—‘everything’ means everything,” Coe said.
“Can you search for documents based on who has accessed them?” Vetter and Coe looked at each other for a while. Finally, Coe spoke.
“If you mean finding every document that, for example, Special Agent John Doe has requested—sure, that’s easy. Like I said, if someone asks us to send something, we record who, what, where, and when on the system, and we can query on those things. If you mean finding everything that, say, I’ve accessed online, that’s doable too, but not as easy. And not everybody could do it. It would mean searching through the log files, and this search engine doesn’t look in those.”
Vetter had swiveled around to look at me with the beginnings of curiosity. He drummed his fingers slowly on the desk, waiting for more questions and wondering. But before I could ask anything else, Neary suggested that we let them get back to work. He got up and thanked them and headed for the door.
Chapter Eight
“Too many questions?” I asked, when we were back in the hallway. Neary nodded.
“Vetter’s antennas were starting to wiggle,” he said.
“Sorry. I liked that system, though. Seems like it could tell me a lot about what I’m interested in. Documents written by Nassouli, documents found in his office, everyone who’s asked to see them.”
“We’ll get there, don’t worry. Besides, I can answer some of those questions, without any system,” Neary said. “You want all the documents found in Nassouli’s office? It’s a real short list. Nothing, not a scrap of paper—not unless you count a yellow sticky pad and a box of tissues.” I must have looked puzzled.
“We think he had himself a little shredding party before he hit the road,” Neary explained. “Some of the other execs did the same, and it didn’t make Shelly and her crew very happy when they figured it out. Speaking of which, you want to know who’s been asking for Nassouli’s documents? The feds will top that list. Until a few months ago, they were all over anything that had to do with him. They got copies of everything he wrote or was copied on or that made reference to him.”
“And what happened a few months
“This isn’t running on the Internet, is it?” I asked.
“No way,” Coe answered, looking aghast. “It’s running on an intranet we’ve set up. That’s like a private Internet.” Vetter clicked a button labeled “Search,” and almost instantly the results appeared in the form of a list.
“See,” Vetter pointed at the screen. “We got 124 items in all. We show the first twenty on this list. We can pick one and read the abstract.” He highlighted an item and clicked another button. A new window opened, displaying a couple of paragraphs of text. “Or, we can see the original.” He clicked another button and another window opened, this one containing the image of a document on MWB letterhead. It looked like a letter to a client.
“And if we want, we can then go and find any other documents that reference this same client,” Coe said. Vetter demonstrated. The engine came back with 568 items, the first twenty of which were displayed on the screen.
“And if you need to find everything written by a particular person?” I asked.
“No problem,” Vetter said, and he showed me.
“And for all of the items in the database, you keep track of where each one was found?” I asked.
“Yep,” Coe answered. We were all quiet for a while.
“And you also use the system to keep track of who has requested which documents?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah. Everything gets logged—including who made a request, the date they made it, what they asked for, what we sent them in return, and when we sent it,” Coe said.
“What about searches like the ones you just ran?”
“Online queries? Those get logged too—‘everything’ means everything,” Coe said.
“Can you search for documents based on who has accessed them?” Vetter and Coe looked at each other for a while. Finally, Coe spoke.
“If you mean finding every document that, for example, Special Agent John Doe has requested—sure, that’s easy. Like I said, if someone asks us to send something, we record who, what, where, and when on the system, and we can query on those things. If you mean finding everything that, say, I’ve accessed online, that’s doable too, but not as easy. And not everybody could do it. It would mean searching through the log files, and this search engine doesn’t look in those.”
Vetter had swiveled around to look at me with the beginnings of curiosity. He drummed his fingers slowly on the desk, waiting for more questions and wondering. But before I could ask anything else, Neary suggested that we let them get back to work. He got up and thanked them and headed for the door.
Chapter Eight
“Too many questions?” I asked, when we were back in the hallway. Neary nodded.
“Vetter’s antennas were starting to wiggle,” he said.
“Sorry. I liked that system, though. Seems like it could tell me a lot about what I’m interested in. Documents written by Nassouli, documents found in his office, everyone who’s asked to see them.”
“We’ll get there, don’t worry. Besides, I can answer some of those questions, without any system,” Neary said. “You want all the documents found in Nassouli’s office? It’s a real short list. Nothing, not a scrap of paper—not unless you count a yellow sticky pad and a box of tissues.” I must have looked puzzled.
“We think he had himself a little shredding party before he hit the road,” Neary explained. “Some of the other execs did the same, and it didn’t make Shelly and her crew very happy when they figured it out. Speaking of which, you want to know who’s been asking for Nassouli’s documents? The feds will top that list. Until a few months ago, they were all over anything that had to do with him. They got copies of everything he wrote or was copied on or that made reference to him.”
“And what happened a few months
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