“What’s this?” she asked.
“I was hoping you’d tell me.” I kept my tone of voice measured and professional. “This article appeared on an anti-secrecy website called Project Transparrior. It’s on some self-appointed mission to expose the secret world of governments. The idea, as I understand it, is to force them to be more transparent. This website releases memos and records from whistleblowers, as well as intercepts from governmental and private sources.”
Marisa squinted her eyes and started to ask a question, but stopped before uttering any words.
When I sensed that she was not going to speak, I said, “This article about Benton Dynamics is public now, if you know where to look. Project Transparrior published information about a research project called the Remora Shadow. You’ve heard about it, right?”
“No,” she said plainly. “Except you mentioned it last Friday on the docks. You know, after you met with Benton’s attorneys. This article says it’s an underwater drone that tracks submarines and latches onto them without being detected. Wow. A stealth submersible drone. Never seen anything like this before.”
A flush of heat rose up the back of my neck. “Never? But you were in research and development there.”
“Yeah, but Benton Dynamics always has a lot of projects going on. More than you can imagine. This wasn’t mine. I’ve never heard of it.”
I breathed in deeply and then exhaled. “Look again, please. Are you sure?”
She again flipped through the printout that Glenn had downloaded off Project Transparrior, but more quickly this time. “No, sorry.”
“It’s a Benton Dynamics project, right?”
“Well,” she said, “the article says so, but that’s it. First time I’ve seen it. Is this what the lawsuit is about?”
“Apparently. At least I think so. Marisa, how would you or anyone else at Benton learn about projects in other divisions?”
“Wouldn’t, unless someone broke procedure.”
I asked, “Is someone in your position able to access data from other research projects?”
“No,” she replied. “We’ve got to go through a series of protocols to see what other divisions are working on. I had access to mine, but not others … not without special permission.”
“So what would you have to do?”
She leaned forward in her chair with both of her arms on the table. “Clearance from senior management. Passwords. A biometric hand-pad to get in the system. Record logs of anyone reviewing the files. You need a good reason to get into another department’s work. Otherwise, no access.”
“Does senior management have access to all files?”
“Well,” she said, “I’m not sure. Never asked. I suppose so, being senior management and all.”
“Your supervisor, Richard Kostas, was a vice president, right?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Sat on the board.”
I considered telling Marisa how I had spent the weekend investigating the final hours of Richard Kostas’s life. Ever since the Chester County Sheriff called me out to the murder scene, I had tried to piece together what happened. Kostas apparently had passed confidential files to someone. The Project Transparrior website was the most likely recipient, but the facts did not yet establish this. Marisa defended Richard Kostas during her initial consultation. She probably would not believe that Kostas stole files, unless of course she already knew. Marisa’s role remained uncertain. For now, I kept what I had learned about her dead boss to myself.
“You’re not suggesting Richard was involved with any of this?” she asked. The gears in her head must have been turning while I questioned her.
“Well,” I said, “hard to say. He’s named a defendant. I’m still trying to figure it out. He’s connected, but I’m not sure how.”
She shook her head. “Not Richard. I knew him. Worked with him. They have this all wrong.”
“If you’ve been sued by mistake, any idea why?”
“None,” she replied firmly.
“But Benton Dynamics thinks you’re involved.”
“I’m not. Please believe me, Mr. Seagraves.”
“I do, and I’ll do my best to defend you. If we can get to the truth, we’ll win this case, but I need your help. Tell me more about Richard Kostas.”
Marisa leaned back in her chair and squinted at me over reading glasses. “He was my supervisor. He oversaw my work and the rest of our division. Missile design, launchers, cost estimates, strategic planning.” She slid the article from Project Transparrior across the conference table back to me. “And I’ve no clue what this Remora Shadow thing is.” She said the words “Remora Shadow” with slow deliberation, as if they were unfamiliar to her.
“You’re certain?” I asked.
She crossed her arms. “One hundred percent.”
“This may be a strange question, Marisa, but I have to ask. Did you have any enemies at Benton Dynamics?”
“No,” she scoffed. “Nothing like that.”
I placed the pen alongside my legal pad and stretched my fingers and wrists. “I just don’t get it. Maybe we should look at this case from a different angle.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tell me how you, well, not you, Marisa. Tell me how anyone at your former employer would go about stealing confidential files?”
She shrugged. “No idea.”
“Think about it a bit. If someone walked out of your headquarters with research and development plans, how would they do it?”
“I told you, Mr. Seagraves, I didn’t take any files.”
“I know, and I believe you, but if I can figure out how someone could’ve stolen the files, it might help.”
“Sorry,” she replied blandly.
“Just a hypothetical. You can’t come up with anything?”
“Honestly, Mr. Seagraves, it’s starting to feel like you’re trying to get me to admit to something I didn’t do.”
“No, that’s not it at all. I just need to know how any Benton employee could’ve done what you’re accused of, even though you’ve been clear. You didn’t do it. But in theory, how could someone download files and walk out of a corporate headquarters with ironclad security?”
In the stillness of the conference room, Marisa’s eyes scanned the bookshelves with numbered law books bound in burgundy and
