by Darin Gibby
Still, if anyone could give her advice about whether to trust an elusive start-up company, especially when it involved giving up a lucrative legal practice, it would be Perry. She reached for her phone, then stopped herself. Running the scenario again through her mind, she realized the situation was ludicrous. Perry’s questions would be like the cross-examination from hell. She knew nothing about Quinn’s company—WTG. What kind of name was that? She thought for a few seconds. Water-to-gas? That’s it! She had to admit, the jingle had a nice ring to it.
She typed the acronym into her computer. Up popped a list of possibilities, including the phrase way to go, and a telecommunications company in Maryland. Nothing related to running a car on water.
Red flags sprang everywhere. Here was a company that nobody had ever heard of, but yet had secured millions, maybe even billions, in investment dollars. The technology was touted by Quinn’s team as being more significant than atomic energy, yet she had not even a scintilla of proof of its existence. Even worse, such an invention did appear to violate the laws of thermodynamics because the amount of energy needed to remove the hydrogen from water appeared to be greater than what could be generated by running the hydrogen through a fuel cell. Quinn was claiming just the opposite, that he could extract hydrogen from water using less energy than he could produce using the hydrogen as fuel source.
Yet the problem was that she, too, had dreamed of this kind of discovery. That’s what Hindy was all about. While Hindy required a tank filled with compressed hydrogen to run the fuel cell and produce the electricity needed to operate the motors, the whole idea behind Hindy was to attract some promising start-up company that might be able to deliver on the concept of hydrogen that could be produced on-demand, thus eliminating the need for a tank of compressed hydrogen and an array of solar panels. Was Quinn trying to tell her she could make her dream come true? The fact that she’d been threatened meant there had to be something to Quinn’s claim.
Janice, Addy’s paralegal, was probably her closest friend, if she could even call it a friendship. Addy wondered if Janice’s loyalty was nothing more than a vain hope on Janice’s part that Addy could mentor her into law school. Addy knew if she asked Janice for advice, her offer from WTG would soon get back to Perry and the other partners.
Then there was Quinn. What was it about him that made her want to give up her all-too-secure life? Was it him, or his dream, or her dream?
Her biggest concern was why Quinn wanted her to form her own firm. It would be so simple to make WTG a client of Wyckoff & Schechter. They had the resources to take WTG where it needed to go. Something didn’t ring true. Why would any company make such a huge legal investment, setting her up with a brand new, fully-staffed law firm? The offer bordered on the bizarre.
Everything told her to run far away from Quinn and WTG, if the company even existed.
Still, she’d always believed someday, somebody would find a way to get hydrogen out of water economically. If Quinn really had discovered a way, it could be worth billions. Paying for the creation of a law firm to protect that idea would seem like a pittance.
But why me?
Addy noted the time stamped on the lower corner of her computer screen. It was the middle of the night in California. Janice would be in bed.
Okay, enough back and forth. What would I do if this were the usual new client? I’d have Janice check them out, Addy thought. If there was a paralegal who knew how to dig into the technology sector, it was Janice. More important, Janice had access to proprietary databases and knew how to quickly eliminate superfluous information. Addy quickly tapped out an email, along with a plea that Janice keep the request confidential. In just a few hours she’d have every publicly available document on Quinn and his baby, WTG.
10
ADDY WAS SCURRYING through the hotel lobby, late for a meeting with her Japanese colleagues, when she caught a glimpse of Quinn’s familiar athletic figure approaching.
“You have a minute?” Quinn asked.
“You’ve been waiting for me.”
“Yes, but I’m not stalking you.”
“First the internet, now in my hotel lobby. What’s the logical conclusion?”
“It’s nothing like that.”
“It’s not? What is it like, then?”
“Can we take a walk?”
“I’ve got a meeting with some Japanese attorneys.”
“When?”
“In thirty minutes at the Conference Center.”
“Good, I’ll drive you there. We can talk on the way.”
Addy relaxed her arms. “I’d better not be late.”
Quinn motioned to the window and snapped his fingers. A black limousine appeared on the street, and Quinn escorted her inside. The leather seats were immediately cool to the touch, and goose bumps popped up on Addy’s bare arms.
“You can turn down the air conditioning,” Quinn told the driver, taking off his suit jacket and draping it around Addy’s shoulders. He loosened his tie and undid his top button. “I’m not into this formal stuff.”
They drove through the side streets near the hotel, winding through the rows of corrugated steel hovels where the vast majority of the city’s population lived.
“I still don’t understand why you can’t use Wyckoff,” Addy said before Quinn could even begin. “I’d keep everything confidential. And if you’re talking about filing all over the world, you are going to need a big firm. A small shop just can’t meet your needs.”
Quinn rolled up his sleeves. “Hear me out. I’m going to tell you what we’ve invented, then you’ll understand. But before I do, you’ve got to promise me you won’t tell a soul, even if you decide not to join us. Do I have your word?”
“Of course. The rules of legal ethics require me to keep everything confidential between us, even if I don’t take you on as a client.”
“Good. So we were talking about the Manhattan project at dinner.”
Addy nodded.
“This is kind of like that. No, we haven’t built another Oakville, Tennessee, but the idea is the same. Even the Germans knew about enriching uranium to build an atomic bomb, but nobody was able to do it until FDR channeled the resources to actually do it.”
“But we’re not talking atomic energy here.”
“No, but extracting hydrogen from water is nothing new. The concept has been around for a long time. It’s all about how to do it economically. If it takes more energy to get the hydrogen out of water than you can get putting the hydrogen through a fuel cell, why bother?”
“Exactly.”
“What I’ve discovered is a catalyst that reduces the amount of energy needed to break the hydrogen-oxygen bond. With this catalyst, you save so much energy in the disassociation process that it is now economical to take ordinary water, remove the hydrogen, and run it through a fuel cell to power your car, or any other small energy need.”
Addy raised her eyebrows. People had been searching for this type of catalyst for a long time. “Is there a catch?”
“Yes and no.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s wicked hard to make the catalyst.”
“Like how hard? Like enriching uranium was in 1945?”
“Sort of. Yes, it has taken us hundreds of millions of dollars to produce just a small amount of this catalyst, but now that we’ve figured it out, we’re confident we can reduce our costs.”
“What, from a hundred million dollars a gallon to a million a gallon? That still makes the current cost of gasoline quite the bargain.”
“I like your sarcasm,” Quinn said. “We have the catalyst. We know how to make it. It’s just a matter of time before the price is comparable with gasoline. Who knows, it may even be less expensive. Pick up a packet of catalyst in the grocery store, fill your tank with distilled water and pour in the powder. No more combustion engines. Nor more drilling for oil. No more pollution. No more greenhouse gases. No more interest in the Middle East. Addy, we’re going to c
hange the world. The world culture as we know it won’t exist a decade from now.”
The goose bumps again rushed down Addy’s arms, but it wasn’t from the temperature. The ramifications of eliminating fossil fuels were almost unfathomable.
“Do you have to mine the catalyst?” Addy probed.
“Yes, there is some mining, and a refinement process.”
“And where are the mines?”
“That I can’t tell you.”
“But aren’t you just moving the problem from one location to another. I mean are you going to blow up a mountain instead of sucking oil out of the ground? And aren’t we going to be fighting over the mines, just like we do with barren sand in Saudi Arabia?”
“Yes and no.”
“There you go again.”
“The mineral we use is typically found in mountainous regions, but it’s everywhere. There is more than enough in the States alone to power cars for centuries.”
“Greenpeace?”
“They’ll throw a fit, but there is a way to mine the stuff without disturbing the environment.”
“Like strip mining for coal?”
“Nothing like that. And some of the mountain ranges aren’t too appealing anyway.”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
“It’s land nobody wants, for the most part. We’ve already secured leases and the mineral rights. We’re set for large-scale production.”
“Harmful byproducts from the reaction in the fuel cell?” Addy asked.
“Perfectly safe, and even if there are any emissions, they are an order of magnitude less than with a combustion engine.”
Addy’s right leg was bouncing. She steadied herself.
“That still doesn’t say why you need me instead of Wyckoff.”
“Two reasons. Like I said, we don’t want the secret out until our patent applications are published, which would be eighteen months from filing, if I have my facts straight.”
“That’s right. Every patent office in the world will post your application online a year and a half after you file.”
“Until then, we need to keep down the number of people who know about the catalyst and the process for refining it. The biggest problem with large law firms is it’s impossible for them to keep a secret. We have reason to believe that big oil already knows about our operations. Do you know how much they would pay to bribe one of your paralegals or secretaries to steal documents?”
“But even if I went with you, I’d need to bring my paralegal. She does all my filings.”
“We’d need to change that. You’ll need to be the one to process all the documents.”
“I’m sure you could find other people as qualified as I am to do an electronic filing.”
“Perhaps, but that leads to my second reason for needing you. I’m about the most paranoid person in the world.”
“No you’re not. Every inventor thinks the world is out to steal his idea.”
“That’s because they’re right. I filed a few test cases, applications with bogus technology, just to see what would happen. I used two of the most prestigious law firms in the US”
“And?”
“The US government slapped them both with secrecy orders.”
Addy flipped Quinn’s jacket off her shoulders. “What?”
It had actually happened to her once. She filed for a ceramic-based material that arguably could be used for body armor. The Department of Defense screened the case and handed down a secrecy order, requiring the information contained in the patent application remain secret until cleared by the DOE. It took her two years and a call to her senator’s office to get it removed.
“I need a creative patent attorney to figure out how to get my applications through the Patent Office without the Defense Department meddling with them. Investors don’t like it when the US government tries to suppress their patent applications.”
“If they take your idea, they have to pay you for it. It’s in our Constitution.”
“Perhaps, but I’m not a US citizen. And just the idea that the government is on the verge of taking such a course of action is enough for my investors to get skittish and walk.”
“I understand.”
“You’re creative. We know that. I figure you can find a strategy to get them through the Patent Office unscathed. By using an unknown law firm, we figure our chances are better. And there won’t be any conflict issues in case one of your firm’s big clients claims to have invented the same thing.”
Addy sighed. Quinn was right on all fronts. He was far more savvy about legal matters than she had surmised. And on the technology side—if what he said was true—he was an absolute mastermind. Somehow, he inherently knew how to push her buttons. Beside him, she could feel his body heat, and she felt herself sinking into his side.
Quinn took up his jacket and motioned the driver. They turned the corner and pulled in front of the Conference Center.
“I really do need to have an answer by the end of the banquet tomorrow evening. I can’t wait any longer to get my applications filed.”
Addy turned to face him. “I still have so many questions.”
“But I just told you my secret. What else is there to tell?”
“The most important thing. I don’t know about you, about how you got involved in this. Why did you give up your dream to be an Olympian?”
“Oh, that wasn’t my dream. It was my father’s dream. I didn’t want any part of it.”
Addy folded her arms and sank back into the plush seat. “Explain.”
“Did I like fencing? I’d say it was just okay, but it wasn’t my passion. I know so many kids grow up with a dream of being a famous athlete, and for a while, so did I. But as the years wore on, the glamour wore off. I didn’t have any kind of life. I’d get up at four in the morning, go to practice and sweat for three hours. From there, we’d go straight to school, then back to the gym again for workouts after school. Every weekend I was on a plane or in a car traveling to some match.”
“I suppose that’s what it takes to be the best in the world,” Addy said.
“Don’t think I’m a quitter. I would have kept up with it if that had been my dream, but it wasn’t. My father was a famous fencer. He’s now a referee for most of the big matches. I finally realized I was doing it for him, but I didn’t really enjoy it. When high school was over, I had scholarships to all kinds of universities in Korea, but I wanted to go to school in America. I’d been there many times for fencing meets and loved everything about it. I loved the culture, the food, the entertainment. And I loved chemistry, so I decided that I wanted to give up fencing and get a chemistry degree in the States. Eventually I want to become an American citizen.”
“And your father, what does he think of all this?”
“You need to understand Korean tradition. To disobey my father’s wishes was to dishonor the family. When I told him, he said our family would be disgraced if I quit fencing, and if that was my decision, I was not welcome in his home.”
“But you quit anyway.”
“I did. Believe it or not, I got an academic scholarship to the School of Mines in Colorado. But even with the scholarship, I had to take a job on the campus grounds crew, shoveling snow at five in the morning, to make it through.”
“That’s impressive. Did your father ever have a change of heart?”
“No, not a chance. I’ve been on my own since high school. I guess you could say my invention is an attempt to redeem myself.”
“You don’t owe them anything.”
“In Korea, it’s not that easy. Besides, I want to prove I can really do it. And when I do, when we make our grand announcement, I’m confident I can restore my family’s honor. And what about you? Does your father approve of you trotting around in a car that sports a hydrogen-filled balloon?”
Addy looked out the window. She didn’t want to discuss her family situation, although she suspected Quinn probably knew about the divorce, since it was p
ublic record.
“My father passed away last year, but we hadn’t spoken for over a decade. He wasn’t my real father anyway. You probably already know I was born here in Vietnam and was brought to America by an adoption agency. When I was only two, my father left the family, and my mother struggled to raise me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This I didn’t know. Are you close to your mother?”
Addy bit her lip while wondering how much she should reveal about her dysfunctional family. “My mother had a breakdown when my father abandoned her. She turned to drugs, and has had an addiction problem ever since. I’ve pretty much been on my own since day one. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Quinn smiled softly. “I’m sorry. I guess we’re more alike than either of us wants to admit. We both have fathers who have abandoned us, and in our own way, we’re trying to prove them wrong, prove we can really make something of ourselves without them. We’re both thinking this is going to take away the pain, but we both know that somehow it won’t.”
Addy reached for the door. “I think we should get going. I’ll have an answer for you before I leave.”
11
HINDY AND THE seared balloon were housed in the vehicular forensics lab, a building akin to an oversized garage that housed a bullet-ridden 4x4 and a Lamborghini confiscated during a drug raid. Agent Long was leaning over a lab table, studying the ballistics report. Speckled on the seared balloon, they found trace chemicals from the flare: potassium nitrate, charcoal, and sulfur. It was too generic to tie to a specific flare gun or even a manufacturer.
“Fred,” Long said to an investigator dressed in a lab coat. “Any theories on why this guy took out the blimp?”
“It’s a giant mystery. At first we thought this Addy person was driving some kind of top secret car that some Muslim faction didn’t want to interfere with oil consumption, but that’s clearly not to the case.”
“What do you mean? It looks terrorist-driven to me.”
“Perhaps, but this car is nothing special. The blimp was all for show. The car’s got a set of off-the-shelf electric motors and a fuel cell you can purchase from half a dozen companies. Runs on compressed hydrogen. Pretty standard stuff.”