“No,” she replied with uncertainty. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“But you were close to him. You’d know, right?”
She just looked back at me. Not even a blink.
I said, “Maybe he thought his time there was limited. Budget cuts. A project not going well. Sticking a flash drive into his computer and downloading files might’ve been his insurance policy if he got fired.”
“You don’t understand our security protocols. The computers at Benton don’t have disk drives or USB ports. You can’t just download files. They’re secure.”
“So how do you do back-ups or transport files? All on an intranet system?”
“Well, sure, we’ve got that, as well as these special flash drives for top secret files. They’re encrypted, password protected, and don’t fit into USB ports. That way we can do back-ups and transport files to remote locations. It’s the only way to download files.”
“KEL drives?”
“Yeah,” she replied, a bit surprised. “You know about KEL drives? Not everyone does. They’re classified. Not available to the public. Where’d you learn about them?”
“My former job.”
“Where was that?” she asked.
“Department of Defense.”
“That tells me a lot, Mr. Seagraves, though you didn’t mean to. Army guys say Army; Navy guys say Navy; and once a Marine, always a Marine. For almost two decades, I’ve done research and development for defense contractors. Do you know who says DOD when you ask them where they work? NSA. From the first day anyone steps into that world, they never admit or even hint they’re employees of the National Security Agency. Stays that way after they leave. They all got the same line — Department of Defense.”
“Maybe we can get back to your case, Marisa.”
She tore open a packet of artificial sweetener, emptied it into her mug, and stirred her coffee, softly tinging the teaspoon against the rim.
I picked up my mug and said, “The complaint focuses on Richard Kostas, and you seem to be an afterthought. The first six counts claim that he accessed classified files and downloaded them without authorization. Conversion of proprietary assets, breach of a confidentiality agreement, and the like. He was the primary target. You appear only in the last counts.”
“I shouldn’t be in any of them.”
“So why do you think you are?”
“I don’t know. Really, I don’t. There has to be some mistake.” She touched her cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
The black coffee was acidic, so I splashed a drop of milk into my mug. I looked at nothing at all in the corner of the room and theorized out loud, “To download files, I guess that you need to be on an authorized list. Not everyone at Benton Dynamics would be able to access every file in every department. If you’d tell me about the project you worked on, it could help your defense.”
She sat motionless, so I continued. “In addition to being authorized to view certain files, you’d need a password to get in the system. I guess that everyone has their own passwords.”
“Yes,” she said.
“And you’d need a KEL drive. Each one of those requires its own password, as well. That’s how they can track who downloaded files, because that’s the only way to transfer data to a portable device. Those drives probably aren’t just lying around the office. KEL drives must be tightly controlled inventory. That’s the overall procedure, right?”
“Yes, and Benton Dynamics would have to prove that I did all that.”
I stirred the milk into my coffee.
“Well,” I said, “at a hearing for a preliminary injunction, they don’t have to prove it absolutely. The legal standard is a preponderance of the evidence.”
Marisa raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask whatever question she had formed in her mind.
I said, “Bogging you down with legalese is not my goal, but you should know the four things Benton Dynamics has to prove. First, a substantial likelihood of success on the merits. Second, irreparable injury if the injunction isn’t granted. Third, the judge balances the rights of the parties, and the scale has to tip in favor of the plaintiff. And finally, the injunction must serve some public interest. We’ll discuss these four elements in detail before your hearing, but are you with me so far?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Because I was fairly sure she wasn’t, I said, “The evidence will concentrate on the first two parts of the test. The plaintiff must show a likelihood of winning and that without an injunction, the plaintiff would be harmed. The last two points are mostly for the lawyers in closing arguments. At evidentiary hearing next Wednesday, Benton Dynamics will have to prove more likely than not that you took its confidential files without authorization.”
Her green eyes intense with doubt and stress, Marisa lowered the coffee mug that she gripped with both hands. “So, Mr. Seagraves, if you were in my position, what would you do?”
“Well, anyone in litigation has three options. Option one, you can decide not to fight the case. The court will grant the preliminary injunction by default, and if you don’t have any of their files, you can’t violate the court order.”
“That’s the same as admitting I’m guilty.”
“Pretty much.”
She shook her head.
I continued, “Option two, I could take your case, assuming you’re here to hire me, and I could negotiate a settlement with opposing counsel. You’d enter into a consent order not to pass on any computer files and resolve the case by agreement.”
“Okay, that might work, because I didn’t steal any files, but it still seems like I’m admitting to doing something wrong.”
“Not necessarily. The agreement wouldn’t admit anything, but to get this result, you’d probably have to cooperate with Benton Dynamics so it could learn what happened. Let them interview you and scan your personal computers and devices to prove you’re innocent.”
“A consent order would be in the public file, right?”
“Yes, but …”
“I’d never get a security clearance ever again. Never return to my career.”
I placed my
