Hailey grinned, showing that she understood what I wanted to prove. If I could develop an alibi for Marisa, we had an outside chance of winning this case.
The judge said, “Mr. Seagraves, the court is waiting.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” I replied. “I’m ready to proceed.”
My cross-examination of Steve Gunther continued for a while, both to gain information and to stall for time. I further probed his investigation methods, highlighting his lack of experience with the computers at Benton Dynamics. My questions were winding down, but perhaps I had raised some doubt about the theft of the plans for the Remora Shadow. Still, I needed more. The hearing depended on Hailey’s success at reaching an alibi witness among Marisa’s former co-workers.
At the conclusion of my inquiry, Judge Arnetti said, “Mr. Nielsen, redirect?”
My opponent asked a dozen questions to buttress Gunther’s forensic computer skills and his conclusions. Nielsen frowned, not appearing fully confident at the end of his redirect. His associate, Charlayne O’Malley, shook her head minutely. I must have scored a few points against his witnesses. Nielsen had provided the court enough evidence to rule against my client, and I figured he would rest his case. Now, I would have to call Marisa to the stand and pray that opposing counsel would not chop her to shreds during cross-examination.
“Mr. Nielsen,” Judge Arnetti said. “Any more witnesses?”
“Yes, one more,” Nielsen replied slowly, seemingly ensnared in an internal debate. “If it pleases the court, Benton Dynamics calls Oscar Yoshida.”
The bailiff brought a lean man with short, salt-and-pepper hair into the courtroom. As he approached the stand, the witness had a determined jaw and a hesitant gait, like a soldier heading to the front lines of an uncertain battlefield. His scowling face, dark business suit, and navy-blue tie added to his serious demeanor. A deputy administered the oath, and Mr. Yoshida stated his name and address on the record before sitting down.
Nielsen started his direct examination with questions about Yoshida’s former job as the Chief of Cybersecurity at Benton Dynamics. My opponent must have known that I would hit these points on cross, so he broached the subject of Yoshida’s termination early in his questions.
Nielsen asked, “Is it fair to say that you were fired?”
“Yes,” the witness replied sourly.
“And my office asked you to be available to testify and issued a subpoena for you to appear today.”
“Yes, but a subpoena wasn’t necessary. I lost my job over all this, so I’m willing to testify and help make sure justice is done.”
Just a few weeks ago, Benton Dynamics had marched Oscar Yoshida out the front door for failing to prevent the theft of confidential files. Yoshida had largely been out of the picture in this case, so I had not seriously considered his possible motive before now. He had a reason to kill Richard Kostas, the man responsible for his professional disgrace and the loss of his career. He would not have any love for Marisa Dupree, either.
Nielsen casually asked a few background questions that caught my attention. “And before you worked for Benton Dynamics, where were you employed?”
“The Federal Bureau of Investigation,” answered Yoshida.
“For how long?”
“Well, a good while. I became interested in an FBI career after 9-11. Graduated from Quantico in 2003.”
Nielsen asked, “Did your work for the FBI offer you any experience that would’ve been useful to my client?”
“I can’t get into details, but I’m allowed to say that I worked at FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C. in counterintelligence. That’s about it.”
Then it dawned on me. Oscar Yoshida graduated in the same class as FBI Special Agent Matt Wolanski. Later, they worked together in the same division hunting spies. They must have known each other. Now the Remora Shadow was gradually starting to make sense, but not entirely.
Nielsen went over the main points about the missing research files that Steve Gunther had already described, except this time Nielsen’s witness had discovered the thefts firsthand. As I listened for inconsistencies in the testimony of Gunther and Yoshida, I tried to piece together how a secure facility could have fallen victim to a data breach, if it actually had at all.
My opponent asked what Cybersecurity had done when it first learned of the unauthorized search in the database. Yoshida replied that his team followed established procedures. They limited access to parts of the central processing unit and notified the Board of Directors. Then they tried to trace the source of the downloads and set traps in case someone tried again.
“When’d you discover all this and take those steps?” Nielsen asked.
“The first week of this month. Early October,” replied Yoshida. “But soon after that, I was terminated.”
“Were you able to trace the source?”
“Not fast enough,” the fired Chief of Cybersecurity said. “Not with the in-house crew. Whoever did this knew how to hide, but it was only a matter of time. We needed an outside forensics team.”
My opponent had not gotten far into his questioning when the door to the courtroom opened behind us with a deep, groaning creek. I turned around, as did Nielsen and most of the spectators in the gallery. Hailey entered the room with a grave look of confusion across her face. She had not been gone long enough to locate Marisa’s co-workers and bring them to the hearing to testify. Hailey would have barely had enough time to walk to the law office, turn around, and return here. She held something in her hand. When she came down the center aisle and arrived at the railing, she opened her fingers. From my time at the National Security Agency, I instantly recognized what she was holding.
The titanium casing. The long trapezoidal shape. The three bold letters “KEL” next to the oversized connector. A KEL drive rested atop her palm.
Nielsen reached for the device, but I snatched it from Hailey.
“That’s ours,”
