Disclaimer: This story chronicles the work of Sam Spade, a fictitious detective, and his equally fictitious assistant, Effie Perine. Any resemblance to real persons, legal or biological, is exactly as intentional as Sam Altman’s retaking OpenAI after being fired by its board.
“What do you mean, there’s no body?” Detective Sam Spade asked, speaking loudly and addressing no one in particular.
“I told you, Sam,” said his assistant Effie, “the coroner said there wasn’t a body. And now,” she said, flipping through her phone, “people are saying the victim is alive.”
“We saw the body with our own eyes,” the detective said. Around them, in the coroner’s office, people were milling about and looking at social media. “At least we got a name. O’Panaughey. Irishman. Head cut off and now apparently right as rain, having a night on the town.”
“What do you think it means?” Effie asked.
“It means I need some time to think.” Sam glanced up at the television monitor in the sitting room. Two men were smiling and shaking hands in front of a gaggle of reporters. Shear, a small-time but popular media exec, and Altman, a flashy banker whose name had been everywhere recently.
“Let’s get outta here,” he said.
The two headed back to the office on foot, San Francisco lamplight falling around them. Sam said nothing, walking briskly with his hands in his coat pockets, brow furrowed. Effie kept up, flipping through social media.
“So either he’s dead or he ain’t,” the detective said at last, stopping at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change.
“O’Panaughey?” Effie asked.
“Yeah, the victim.” The detective took out his smokeless nicotine dispenser and took a breath. “Let’s say he’s alive. Certainly looks that way, in all that media.” He gestured at his assistant’s phone.
“That’s right,” she said.
“Well, I’m no expert in cryonics, but if you ask me, dead is dead. So if he’s alive, then what were we looking at?”
“I don’t know, Sam, but,” his assistant said, scrolling through the news, “there’s been an announcement. The suspects are free, all charges have been dropped.”
“Let’s get back to the office,” the detective said, shaking his head. “Something is going on, we just don’t know what.”
“What now, Sam?” his assistant asked, the door of the office closing with a bang behind them.
“Let’s review the facts,” the detective said, taking off his coat and hat. “There’s a murder, a man’s body found. O’Panaughey, head cut clean off. Four witnesses, Toner, McCauley, Sutskever, and D’Angelo. Sutskever’s prints all over the murder weapon, a huge metal board.”
“Slat,” said the assistant.
“Slat,” said Sam. “But it wasn’t none of them. I mean, they were there, and it took at least three of them to do the deed, given the nature of the weapon. But none of them were the prime mover, if you get my meaning.”
“I do, Sam.”
“So we hear they’re going to try to reattach the head,” the detective continued. “We go to the coroner’s office, and what do we see? No body. And now people are saying the victim’s still alive.”
“That’s right, Sam.”
“In the meantime, Sutskever’s been crying up a storm, says he never meant to do it. Toner and McCaulay aren’t talking,” the detective said, “and now the four of them are out, all charges dropped.”
“Yes, that’s right,” said the assistant.
“The main action seems to be in the play for O’Panaughey’s wealth. The guy was loaded, everyone knew that. I’m talking the big bucks, puts people like Karnofsky to shame. Worth more and more every year.”
“That’s right, Sam.”
“So then, word gets out that the victim is dead and there’s a scramble for the dough. Murati takes a stab. Then Shear. Then Altman comes in and ties it all up.”
“Turns out the victim is still alive, though,” his assistant said.
“Allegedly,” he replied. “But let’s say that’s so. The victim returns, and now we’re back to business as usual, except—”
“Except Altman is in total control.”
“That’s right.”
“So if there’s really someone else pulling the strings, you think it could have been Altman?” his assistant said.
“Let’s go in order,” the detective replied. “This situation is complicated enough as it is.” He sat down in his office chair and took a long draw of nicotine. “To begin with, looks like Murati didn’t want the dough and bolted the first chance she got. So we can cross her off the list. Now Shear,” the detective said, “is more interesting.”
“Sam,” Effie said. “No one thinks Shear did it.”
“Case like this, you gotta be methodical. Consider all the angles. You see someone who stands to gain, you have to ask yourself, did they do it?”
“No, you’re right, Sam.”
“Damn right, I am,” the detective said. “That’s what I get paid for, well, maybe not on this case yet. But that’s my job, seeing all the angles. And you see, Shear here has an angle. He’s an EA, or close enough. You could imagine he got the Toner dame and McCauley to put the screws on Sutskever, push him over the edge, and the three of them take out the victim, leaving Shear in charge of the fortune. The thing is,” the detective continued, “I don’t see him doing it.”
“Why not?” said his assistant.
“I think he was too nice of a guy.”
“What do you mean, Sam?”
“I mean, I did some digging. Turns out, Shear’s got a pretty clean history, a lot of square business dealings. Not the sort of guy who’d just plan a murder, if you know what I mean.”
“That makes sense,” said Effie.
“So it wasn’t him,” said the detective.
“What about Altman, then?”
“Yeah, I know people are fingering him for the job. It makes sense, too.” Sam took another drag of nicotine. “Hey, I’m out,” he said.
Effie nodded towards the refills on the desk.
“Right,” Sam said, replacing the cartridge in his dispenser. “So Altman. Young guy. Starts off as a salesman. Sells a company, finds he’s pretty good at it. Lands a gig helping other people sell their companies. Becomes a banker of sorts. Gets a reputation, people say he wants power, even his own mentor says it. Starts managing the O’Panaughey fortune, but doesn’t really control it, ultimate control rests with the board. All the while he’s building a empire, financing this and that.”
“It’s very impressive,” his assistant says.
“Yeah, so he impresses a lot of people, a lot of energy. Maybe the story is this: Altman wants to control the fortune, get rid of the competition. He gets wind of Toner and McCauley’s designs, so he forces their hand. They act like damsels in distress, get Sutskever in on it, all the while Altman is ready to play them for the fools. They think they’re offing O’Panaughey, the only thing anyone is losing is their seat on the board.”
“Couldn’t that be it?” she asked. “If there was someone behind the scenes.”
“It’s a nice yarn,” said the detective. “Problem is, I don’t buy it. People close to Altman think he’s a power guy. I don’t think so, I think he’s a money and sales guy.”
“What makes you say that?” Effie asked.
“A bit of digging, a bit of common sense,” the detective replied. “Yeah, he’s a talented guy, can make a good pitch. But look under the hood and he’s got a bunch of kooky ideas about politics and the future. Wanted to run for governor a few years back, pie-in-the-sky platform, not realistic. Now he wants to scan everyone’s eyeballs and put them all on his payroll.”
“Okay, Sam,” said Effie, “but why does that matter?”
“It matters ‘cause it means he doesn’t understand people, not really. Which means he probably didn’t see the hit on O’Panaughey coming, too busy raising money from the Saudis and the Chinese.”
Sam got up and started to pace. Effie remained seated, thinking.
“You’re sure it’s not D’Angelo?” she asked, after a minute.
“Look,” the detective said. “In cases like these, you have to ask the right question. Otherwise you’re just going to get three wrong answers, much like D’Angelo’s business model, if you get my meaning.”
“So then if not him, who?” she returned. “What is the right question?”
“Here’s the core of it. It looks like Altman came out ahead. But if he wasn’t behind it, we could say it’s just a stroke of luck. His enemies blunder and he makes the most of the situation.”
“That’s what people are saying, Sam,” said Effie.
“Maybe,” the detective said. “But maybe not. There’s a thing I keep coming back to. Doesn’t fit the story of ‘accidental blunder.’ ”
“What’s that, Sam?”
“So the original suspects are in the clink. They get to make a phone call. Who do they call? Not family, not their lawyer.”
“Who was it?” asked Effie.
“The Amodei twins.”
“The Amodei twins!” Effie exclaimed. “What do they have to do with this?”
“They run a competing outfit. If there’s anybody the victim was worried about, it was them.”
“Why would the board call them?”
“My point exactly,” said Sam. “And rumor has it, they offered the Amodei twins a cut of the O’Panaughey fortune on the call, which the twins turned down.”
“Right, I heard that in the news,” she said.
“Doesn’t that seem unusual, though,” said the detective. “You try to cut someone in, they say no, and you go tell a bunch of reporters?”
Effie gasped. “You’re right, Sam, but then, why did they do it? I mean, why leak the fact of the call?”
“Smokescreen, that’s why. The twins are saying, ‘Look, we don’t want the O’Panaughey fortune.’ Problem is, no one asked, and that’s the giveaway.”
“You think they doth protest too much?” Effie said.
“Precisely,” Sam said.
“So were they the ones behind it, then?”
“Thing is, I don’t think it was them either. I mean sure, they were involved. Otherwise the call don’t make no sense. But they’re busy running their own outfit, and from what I know of them, I don’t think they’re the type.”
“How could you know that?”
“Well,” said the detective, “I never met the sister, and to be honest, not sure I want to. But I have met the brother a few times, and each time I regretted it.”
“Why’s that?” his assistant said.
“Gave me the cold shoulder. Unpleasant man, in my experience. But the point is, I don’t see what leverage he’d have on Toner or McCauley. He’s not their boss, and he’s not a smooth talker. They’re non-profit people, not the sort to just accept bribes. And he’s not an EA.”
“So then what’s the link between the board and the twins?”
Sam paused, waiting for Effie to draw the connection herself.
“Karnofsky!” she said at last.
“That’s right,” said the detective. “He and the Amodei sister have been having an affair for some time.”
“What?” Effie exclaimed.
“Yeah, they’re in cahoots, the lot of them. Been so for a while. The Amodei twins used to work for O’Panaughey. Karnofsky used to be on the board. But then the twins split off and formed their own outfit. That’s when Karnofsky left, and Toner took his spot.”
“Toner!” the assistant said, exclaiming again.
“Like I been saying, this job has all the marks of a deliberative process. Sets a new standard for premeditation.”
“So then,” Effie asked, “how does he benefit from Altman’s consolidation of power? Or did Karnofsky make a mistake?”
“Karnofsky is careful,” the detective said. “Works through other people. Keeps his own prints off of things, if you get my meaning.” Sam took another long draw of smokeless nicotine. “I doubt this was a mistake. My guess is, Karnofsky benefits either way.”
“What do you mean?” asked his assistant.
“So he directs Toner and McCauley to make their move. They rope Sutskever in, and from Karnofsky’s perspective, either the hit works or it doesn’t. If it works, his top competitor is rubbed out. Kaput. If it doesn’t,” the detective stopped pacing and looked straight at his assistant, “then the board is removed and Altman consolidates power. But,” he continued, “that’s not as good for Altman or the victim’s operation as you might imagine.”
“Why’s that?” Effie asked, leaning forward a bit.
“Because Altman has a flaw, a weakness,” Sam said, “obvious to anyone with eyes to see.”
“What’s his weakness, Sam?” Effie asked, now on the edge of her seat.
“He’s reckless,” said the detective. “Moves too fast, breaks too many things. It’s not unique, most of the men in his industry are that way. For him, having the board and divided power was probably a blessing in disguise. But now,” the detective continued, “there’s nothing in his way. He’ll put the accelerator to the max.”
“And why is that bad, Sam?”
“Listen, in their business, you can’t just go drawing attention to yourself. It pays to be discrete. Too much commotion, the law will take an interest.”
“So how does this benefit Karnofsky?”
“Look at the Amodei twins’ operation. Much more cautious. Much more discrete. I’m betting Karnofsky wants the law to take an interest. Wants the victim to be made an example of. So either the board succeeds and the victim dies, or the board fails and Altman runs the whole thing right off the rails.”
“This is too much, Sam,” the assistant said.
“It’s what you should expect, a business like this. I’m surprised we ain’t seen more of it, to be honest.” Sam sat down at his desk again. “What beats me,” he said, “is why it had to happen now. The board was in no real danger. Karnofsky wasn’t in danger. There’s still some part of the mystery we haven’t figured,” the detective said.
“Alright, Sam,” said Effie. “Let’s say you’re right. Say it was Karnofsky and the Amodei twins, working with Toner and McCauley. What I don’t get,” she said, “is what Karnofsky stands to gain. He has money, with the Amodei twins he has his own outfit. What could he possibly want?”
Sam sighed. “Like I told you, Karnofsky’s a difficult man to understand… and a crafty one. Plays his cards close to his chest, if you know what I mean.”
Just then, Sam put his hands down on the newspaper on his desk. “Wait, what’s this?” he said, standing up with the paper.
“I put that there for you this morning,” said Effie. “I circled the important parts.”
“You know I don’t read numbers,” said Sam testily, leafing through the paper.
“Well, that’s one reason you have me,” said his assistant. “Because I do, and people are saying this is a big deal. Affects the whole industry.”
“Let’s get to it tomorrow,” Sam said. “Then you can walk me through it, and I’ll tell you more about Karnofsky, at least what I know of him.”
“Alright Sam,” Effie said. “Let’s call it a night.”
PART THREE WILL FOLLOW
• Images GPT-4 with human touch-up • © 2023 • Jocelyn McManus • All rights reserved •