by Susan Wolfe
“I did,” she nodded. “Helped a lot. In fact, we’ve had drinks twice now down at the Saloon.” Which she considered literally true and compassionately misleading.
“No kidding. Fantastic. Maybe you can run interference between him and the Western Analytics lawyer. Thanks for the outline, guys. I think I’m ready.”
“You have a minute on another subject?” she asked.
“I do. Thanks, Quan. See you later.” Quan closed the door behind him, and Ken’s eyes rested on her with friendly concern. “What’s up? You look tired. Your workload too much?”
She probably did look tired from being folded up like an accordion again all night. “I’m fine, Ken. Thanks. I had two quick things I wanted to talk to you about. The first is Glen Terkes. Did you notice how he relaxed that day when you told him your issue was in the Boston office?”
“No. Did he really?”
“I think he did. If I’m right, that means there’s something worse outside of Boston that we don’t know about yet. We just might keep our eyes open.”
His eyes dutifully opened wider. “No kidding. I hope to God you’re wrong, Georgia, but thanks for the heads up.”
“The second thing is an idea I had for the patent case.” Her voice suddenly sounded like it had caught down in her throat somewhere.
“Let’s hear it,” he invited, fully attentive. Okay, she thought. Here goes.
“Well, I think there’s a huge chance we won’t get the ’401 patent in time to use it in the lawsuit.”
“Completely agree. Probably too late already, though we have to keep trying.”
“Well, I saw an article in the Wall Street Journal about the International Trade Commission. I just wondered if we could bring a separate lawsuit there.”
“International Trade Commission. The people who do import regulations?”
“Absolutely. But they also have their own judges, and a U.S. company can start a whole separate lawsuit with them if a foreign company is stealing their intellectual property. You can stop the foreign company from selling its software here in the U.S.” She knew she was talking too fast. “Does SAP create its software in Germany?”
He raised his eyebrows, considering. “I presume so, at least part of it.”
“Well, if SAP’s product violates our new patent, maybe we could stop them from selling it here.”
“I think I’ve heard of these lawsuits, but they’re pretty rare, aren’t they? Can they be based on patents?”
“I think they can. I printed these pages from the ITC web site, and each lawsuit lists either ‘no patent’ or else a patent number. See?” Ken took the papers from her, and looked where she was pointing, while she rushed ahead. “The good thing is that the cases move really fast, and the preliminary injunction can be done in a couple of weeks. Maybe we could leapfrog the whole patent case.” There it was, she thought. ITC: Ingenious Tricky Countersuit?
Ken brushed a hand across his military-cut red hair as he looked through the pages.
“Georgia, I have no idea if this will work. I do think it’s the first new idea we’ve had in a while, and I’ll call the Banyon lawyers today. Any news on the patent?”
“Jim Prizine is sitting on a wooden bench outside the office of the person with the official seal, but he hasn’t been allowed to speak to her. He says from a distance she looks dumb, bureaucratic and arrogant.”
“Great. Let’s just hope he can charm her into giving us that seal. One day left before discovery cutoff. Thanks, Georgia.”
At least he hadn’t said it was ridiculous, Georgia thought as she headed back to her cube. He had listened respectfully, exactly the way he always did, and he was going to ask the Banyon lawyers. The way he listened made all those hours seem worth it, whether her idea panned out or not.
He wasn’t going to deal with Archibald, though, and Zack was right. The guy was a whole new Marx Brother, and they were only funny in movies.
Of course, it was hard to deal with problem employees, especially if you were a nice person like Ken. Even her father had waited too long with no-good Robbie, which accounted for his current misfortune.
Was that why she saw this more clearly than Ken did? It seemed obvious that letting an overconfident person do stupid stuff day after endless day would eventually bring the whole company down around their heads. This doofus was Robbie all over again, and somebody needed to stop him before it was too late.
As she rounded the corner and glanced into the empty break room, her vision from the night down at the Saloon resurfaced in breathtaking clarity. Archie Undone. Could she pull it off? Maybe, if she was willing to use her special talents again. Probably, if she could get Archie to trust her enough.
The cleanest approach, she knew from her father, was to complete your scam and get out before the mark ever got his bearings. Which of course wasn’t always possible. So he also taught that when you need time to prepare your gambit, you should give the mark preliminary opportunities to confirm your reliability, so that he has confidence in you when you spring your trap.
But wait. She paused on the carpet a few cubes down from her own. This was exactly what she’d turned her back on forever. Wasn’t it? She’d gone to years of trouble to get her paralegal degree and extract herself from a life of conning people. Of course, that was conning people for profit. Was this different? She resumed walking.
Her con artist training had been put to excellent use once already, getting that no-account Holly Foxx off the payroll. And so efficiently, compared to more traditional methods of dealing with a problem employee. Archibald Moss posed a way bigger threat to the company than Holly Foxx had, so the benefit would be a lot greater. Unfortunately, so was the risk. She turned into her cube.
Not a great time to be taking risks of any kind with Katie-Ann coming, but of course there was also risk in doing nothing. Or was there? Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe somebody else would step up and solve the problem. She sighed. Probably wouldn’t hurt to prepare, just in case. Suddenly she missed her father terribly.
On Wednesday afternoon she watched her time carefully, and at 5:45 she was in her Subaru, waiting just outside the back exit. Sure enough, at five before six Prim Lucy’s bright red Mini Cooper with black racing stripes pulled out onto the street. Georgia followed it for fifteen minutes, watched it turn into the underground lot of an apartment building. The building had external stairs, and she ducked down below the window in her driver’s seat to watch without being noticed.
A few moments later Lucy appeared on the stairs and climbed to the third floor, where she used a key to let herself in. Georgia waited five long minutes, then jumped from her car and walked briskly up the same stairs until she could read the number on the door through which Lucy had disappeared. She hurried to her car and sped back to the office.
She didn’t get to the Saloon until 10:30 that night, and at first she thought Archibald had gone home. When she scanned the room more slowly, she spotted him at a table at the far end. No wonder she’d missed him. A curly-haired woman in her thirties had her arm around Archie’s nonexistent neck. Really? How could any sentient being voluntarily touch this guy? Well, Gramma Griffin always said that every pot has its lid. In any case, Georgia obviously wasn’t going to be building any rapport with Archie tonight. The woman was even sort of good looking. In fact, she looked a little bit like that actress, what was her name? Salma Hayak.
Salma Hayak. Wait, was this that woman Nikki had talked about? The one who liked to ‘dust it up’ with her boyfriend? Maybe that explained it. Maybe she’d pretend to like anybody to get her boyfriend jealous. Whatever the explanation, this could be a great way to build trust with Archie. She hurried over behind the woman so that Archibald was facing her, and waved to get his attention. He ignored her completely.
“Excuse me, Archie, could I talk to you for a minute?”
Archie’s face was spread in a wide, dreamy grin as his eyes stared into Salma’s. “Not a good time, Georgia. Maybe you could, you
know, take a number?”
“I’m afraid it’s kind of urgent.”
“Can you believe it?” he said to the woman, holding her gaze as he disentangled himself reluctantly from her arm. “I’m in such demand all of a sudden. Don’t go anywhere, now.” He slid off his stool and followed Georgia into the thick part of the crowd. “What’re you, jealous? This better be good.”
“It is good, in a bad sort of way. That woman you’re with? I think she’s trouble.”
“What’re you talking about? She totally hot, and she thinks I’m fascinating.”
“Yeah. She’s also got a mean husband.”
“What husband? She sure doesn’t act like she has a husband.”
“Maybe he isn’t here. Could be a boyfriend. But anyway, I’ve heard about her, and she definitely has one. Sort of a physical type who shows up and shoves people.”
“No way. You sure it’s the same woman?”
“No,” she admitted. “It looks like her, though. Does she have a Latina accent?”
“Oh, yeah. Very sexy.”
“I’m sure it is. Her boyfriend thinks so, too.”
“Nah, you’ve got . . .” and at that instant the red leather doors swung inward to reveal a stocky man with tattoos on his muscled forearms, who surveyed the room, marched over to the curly-haired woman and said something in a low, growly voice. She turned away dismissively as he pointed to Archie’s drink and asked a question. He scanned the crowded, dimly lit room and asked the question louder. Archie ducked behind Georgia, his back to the table. Georgia saw the guy lift the woman onto her feet by her arm and move her toward the door, his hand so high up inside her armpit that her shoulder was squeezed against her ear. They disappeared through the swinging doors.
“Holy shit!” Archibald muttered. “Guess she does have a boyfriend. Has he seen me?”
Could something this wonderful possibly happen? “No. They’re gone.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
He peeked fearfully at the now-vacant table and then stood up. “You were right.”
“Yeah. I thought I might be.” She coughed to keep from laughing at his terrified expression.
“Thanks for getting me outta that. I had no idea.”
“Glad I could help. But now you lost your female companionship.”
“True, but I kept my teeth. And my dignity. Let’s sit somewhere far from that dangerous table to celebrate.”
Manna from heaven, Daddy, she thought as she followed Archibald to his customary seat at the bar. She really had saved Archie’s bacon, and he knew it. Ha! In fact, ha-ha! She still hoped she’d never need to use her special talents to curb Archie the Anarchist, but it was satisfying to have a plan shaping up, just in case.
Burt Plowfield’s admin was away from her desk, and his office was empty. At least it seemed empty. As she turned to go, she heard a cough. Turning back, she saw that Burt was actually behind his monitor with the lights off, his beige shirt blending perfectly with the wall behind him. Weird. When this guy didn’t have a woman to fight with, he was a regular polar bear in a snowstorm.
“Oh, hi,” she called, waving from the doorway. “You have a minute to sign some things?”
“Happy to. Come in.”
“Your office is so big I didn’t see you at first. Are those your boxing gloves?” Simpering for a purpose wasn’t actually simpering, she reassured herself.
“Absolutely. I was the first-ranked boxer on the Caltech team for two years.”
“Wow. I didn’t know you had a degree from Caltech.” She explained the documents, then looked around as he began signing. The only photo on his desk was a snapshot of a stout, middle-aged woman glaring sternly at the camera with her arms akimbo across the front of her battle-gray suit. Wife? Mother? Whoever it was, why exactly would that be a favorite photo?
She pointed to two large wall photos of sand formations in beige frames. “Fabulous photographs. You been there?”
He kept signing. “I took those photographs.” He didn’t seem to notice she was laying it on a little thick.
“They’re beautiful. I have a cousin back home who loves to take nature photographs. There’s a lot of art to it, isn’t there?”
There was silence for a moment except for the scratching of the pen.
“I’ve enjoyed learning a little bit about acquiring companies,” Georgia ventured. “It’s an important part of the business, isn’t it? Must be hard to identify the right companies to acquire. Is that what you do?”
He didn’t look up. “Part of what I do. You have to be an expert in the technology, and a jack of all trades in everything else. No point in acquiring a company with great technology if you’re stuck with a business model that won’t let you make money with it.”
“I’m sure that’s right. I’ll bet there’s a lot of different things you have to look out for. All signed? Now, I have you as ‘Executive Vice President’ here on the signature line. That’s right, isn’t it? Really? You know, I just assumed that with your importance to the company . . . That’s okay, just cross out the ‘Executive’ and initial it. Anyway, I’m so interested in your part of the business and all, if you ever need help with something, just let me know.”
“I’m afraid what we do is a little bit sophisticated for you.”
“Oh, of course, and I’d never want to be in the way. Just keep me in mind in case, okay?”
She escaped into the hallway and pumped her forefinger toward her open mouth a couple of times in a gagging gesture.
The Crooks and Dirt Team (Ken, Quan, Andrea, Burt and Georgia) were waiting in the boardroom for Roy, who had allotted 30 minutes to hear about the issues with Futuresoft. Roy was already ten minutes late, and Ken was reviewing the agenda with the group. “Okay, and then Andrea will handle the open source, and then . . .”
“Andrea,” Burt interrupted, “when you present that, if you could just try not to be irrational . . .”
Andrea laughed merrily. “Oh, well, I could try not to be irrational, Burt, but you know how women are.”
Roy descended on them through the connecting door to his office, and assumed his boxer’s stance at the head of the table. “Okay. Let’s do this efficiently. Who’s in charge here?”
“There are three issues we want to brief you on, Roy,” Ken said. “I’d like to start with the most difficult one, something Quan found on Friday up in Seattle.”
Roy managed to further elevate his chronically skeptical eyebrows. “And?”
Ken took 10 minutes to describe what they had found, during which Roy relinquished his boxer’s stance and sat down. “From a legal perspective,” Ken concluded, “this is a very serious problem that would have to be cleaned up before we could acquire the company.”
“Why’s that?” Roy asked, waving a hand in the air. “Everybody does this stuff.”
Ken kept his expression pleasantly neutral. “Well, I’m not sure I want to comment on that, except to tell you it isn’t much of a defense if you end up in court. If we buy the company knowing about its theft of Cordova intellectual property, it’s like buying a TV off the back of a truck in an alley. That isn’t just a civil issue, it’s a crime.”
“What does their CEO say?”
“Oh, they haven’t asked him,” Burt explained. “These guys saw this stuff—or think they saw it—and decided they’d be judge and jury.” Aggressive, in his passive way, thought Georgia. Must be confident of where Roy was going to come out on this.
“Well,” Ken said, “That’s not really the point. No matter what the CEO says, those documents exist and they aren’t going to disappear. You have to think about how this would play out in a trial, even a civil trial. First of all, let’s assume Cordova is unhappy about our acquisition of Futuresoft.”
“They’re going to be miserable.” Roy’s wolfish grin was actually more frightening than his scowl. “We’re going to annihilate them in the financial reporting space.”
“Great. But then
they find out about their prototype being in our hands, and see the chance to give us a real black eye. I think they’ll just flat-out sue us. Wouldn’t you?”
Roy shrugged. “How would they ever find out about it?”
“The same way everybody always finds this stuff out. A disgruntled Futuresoft employee goes and tells them about it, either trying to make trouble or trying to get a job after we lay him off in the acquisition. Of course, there’s another way the U.S. Attorney would have to find out about this, that you and I can discuss privately.”
The U.S. attorney? What was that about? Roy didn’t respond, but his grin wavered.
“Now,” Ken continued, leaning forward and focusing intently on Roy. “Imagine Cordova’s lawsuit. These documents are all they need to get a huge civil action going and get the attention of the U.S. Attorney. How would the Futuresoft CEO go about offering his innocent explanation, assuming he has one?” Ken lifted his hands and opened them wide above the table. “Answer: We’d spend two years waiting for him to get the chance to present it in court, while our reputation gets dragged through the mud in the marketplace.” He dropped his hands back onto the table. “So I didn’t ask the CEO, Roy, because there isn’t anything he can say that solves the problem.”
Roy waved his hand dismissively. “So tell them to clean it up.”
“The only way they can clean it up is to go to Cordova, disclose what they did and get a release.”
“They’re obviously not going to do that,” Roy snapped, glaring at Ken over the rims of his narrow oval glasses. “They’d be putting their heads in a noose.”
“They might do it if they know it’s the only way to do the acquisition.”
“We’re doing the acquisition,” Roy declared. “We need this company to hit our growth plan.”
“Oh, that’s what I told them,” Burt spoke up helpfully. “Instead of thinking up reasons not to do the deal, it would be refreshing if they’d actually help us get it done.”
“Evidently I need to get it done,” Roy said with a burdened sigh. “Get their CEO in here tomorrow. I want the investment bankers, too, in person. Then I’ll decide what to do.” He disappeared through the door to his office.