If Seattle?s favorite son is Bill Gates, then its overlooked and often ignored second son is Neil Rammage. Despite being the third wealthiest man in the entire world (behind Bill, of course), despite giving people such technological advances as smart houses that can be controlled through a downloadable app on a mobile phone, the world?s most efficient and least expensive electric car, and solar-powered digital cameras, cell phones, laptops, and tablet computers that continued to work even at night or cloudy days, no one knew Neil Rammage?s name. Sometimes he thought that if he wasn?t sitting on $50 billion of personal wealth, the fact that Bill Gates is a household name might bother him. But then, if Neil Rammage hadn?t mad that initial investment, no one would know Bill Gates? name either.
Rammage was quite used to be somewhat anonymous, in spite of his vast wealth. He could still drive to his local Starbucks and order a cup and sit and linger with it over the Wall Street Journal without people trying to pitch ideas to him with the hope of having it presented at the next gathering of Rammage, Inc, the think tank to which Rammage lent his time, his name, and his money. His daughter, his only child, had been public schooled and had traveled by bus, rather than going to some fancy-pants private school in a chauffeured limo. He lived a relatively normal life and he was glad of it. No security goons running patrols around his home on Bainbridge Island or his office in downtown Seattle, no bodyguards following his family around day and night. No possibility of a disgruntled ex-employee selling Rammage family secrets to US Weekly or People magazine. His privacy was sacrosanct. Just the way he liked it.
All of this might have explained his extreme reluctance to have a guard on his daughter. The local police recommended it. Neil refused. The FBI strongly encouraged it. Neil didn?t think it was necessary. But what about the threatening emails Jenni had been receiving for the past three months? The ones that always ended with "You've got what I want"? Pranks from Jenni?s friends. And the obvious surveillance photos left in her car, her mailbox, her desk at work? The work of a bored paparazzi. And the phone calls late at night? Wrong number or a pervert with too much time on his hands. Plus, everyone knew the girl was afraid of her own shadow; it was entirely possible that she had blown everything out of proportion. Besides, he had kidnap insurance and the number of the best retrieval team in the country on speed dial?just in case. So until there was an actual specific threat from a credible source, Neil Rammage and his family would live just as they always had. Normally. Without security teams dogging their every step.
Jenni, on the other hand, gladly accepted the FBI and local police?s offers of security and armed agents stepping up patrols around her house. The emails, phone calls, and photos had been directed at her after all. Her father wasn?t being stalked by some nut job who wanted? And there was the rub. No one knew what the man wanted. Or the woman, though FBI profilers pegged the individual as a white male, age 30-45, with a history of possessiveness and bad break-ups, possibly involving restraining orders. The threats had been vaguely worded and non-specific. They had alluded to the fact that he wanted something Jenni knew or had in her possession or had seen, and he was watching her, just waiting for the perfect moment to take it.
Since Jenni worked as her father?s assistant, she was privy to all kinds of top secret, classified projects Rammage Inc, worked on for DARPA, the DoD, NASA, US military, and even the NSA and CIA. The amount of classified information Jenni had access to or which crossed her desk on a daily basis was staggering. If an enemy state or terrorist cell ever got their hands on any of it, the entire world would be at risk.
Privately, the FBI?s Special Agent In Charge of the Rammage case, Warren Thurston, was relieved when Jenni accepted the offer of extra protection. The girl reminded him a little of his daughter and he knew he would jump at the chance to have armed officers around her if he found himself in the same position in which Neil Rammage was in now. Thurston thought it was criminal how little regard Rammage had for his daughter?s life. The man was far more concerned with keeping up the appearance of normalcy and clinging to what little privacy he had remaining that with protecting his daughter?s life.
Rammage was quite used to be somewhat anonymous, in spite of his vast wealth. He could still drive to his local Starbucks and order a cup and sit and linger with it over the Wall Street Journal without people trying to pitch ideas to him with the hope of having it presented at the next gathering of Rammage, Inc, the think tank to which Rammage lent his time, his name, and his money. His daughter, his only child, had been public schooled and had traveled by bus, rather than going to some fancy-pants private school in a chauffeured limo. He lived a relatively normal life and he was glad of it. No security goons running patrols around his home on Bainbridge Island or his office in downtown Seattle, no bodyguards following his family around day and night. No possibility of a disgruntled ex-employee selling Rammage family secrets to US Weekly or People magazine. His privacy was sacrosanct. Just the way he liked it.
All of this might have explained his extreme reluctance to have a guard on his daughter. The local police recommended it. Neil refused. The FBI strongly encouraged it. Neil didn?t think it was necessary. But what about the threatening emails Jenni had been receiving for the past three months? The ones that always ended with "You've got what I want"? Pranks from Jenni?s friends. And the obvious surveillance photos left in her car, her mailbox, her desk at work? The work of a bored paparazzi. And the phone calls late at night? Wrong number or a pervert with too much time on his hands. Plus, everyone knew the girl was afraid of her own shadow; it was entirely possible that she had blown everything out of proportion. Besides, he had kidnap insurance and the number of the best retrieval team in the country on speed dial?just in case. So until there was an actual specific threat from a credible source, Neil Rammage and his family would live just as they always had. Normally. Without security teams dogging their every step.
Jenni, on the other hand, gladly accepted the FBI and local police?s offers of security and armed agents stepping up patrols around her house. The emails, phone calls, and photos had been directed at her after all. Her father wasn?t being stalked by some nut job who wanted? And there was the rub. No one knew what the man wanted. Or the woman, though FBI profilers pegged the individual as a white male, age 30-45, with a history of possessiveness and bad break-ups, possibly involving restraining orders. The threats had been vaguely worded and non-specific. They had alluded to the fact that he wanted something Jenni knew or had in her possession or had seen, and he was watching her, just waiting for the perfect moment to take it.
Since Jenni worked as her father?s assistant, she was privy to all kinds of top secret, classified projects Rammage Inc, worked on for DARPA, the DoD, NASA, US military, and even the NSA and CIA. The amount of classified information Jenni had access to or which crossed her desk on a daily basis was staggering. If an enemy state or terrorist cell ever got their hands on any of it, the entire world would be at risk.
Privately, the FBI?s Special Agent In Charge of the Rammage case, Warren Thurston, was relieved when Jenni accepted the offer of extra protection. The girl reminded him a little of his daughter and he knew he would jump at the chance to have armed officers around her if he found himself in the same position in which Neil Rammage was in now. Thurston thought it was criminal how little regard Rammage had for his daughter?s life. The man was far more concerned with keeping up the appearance of normalcy and clinging to what little privacy he had remaining that with protecting his daughter?s life.