“Mr. Seagraves, the court is waiting,” Judge Arnetti said.
“Yes, Your Honor. I have a single question.”
Only one theory made any sense. Chalk marks showed where Richard Kostas dropped off stolen data and picked up cash and instructions. His calendar proved that he had been stealing files from Benton Dynamics for months. After Yoshida’s cybersecurity team had notified the Board of Directors of a possible breach, Kostas would have felt the noose tightening around his neck. Then Marisa Dupree’s KEL drive went missing. Within days, someone murdered Kostas with cyanide and dumped his body in the Chesapeake Bay. The article on the Project Transparrior website revealed a secret drone called the Remora Shadow, but the descriptions of its stealth technology defied the laws of physics.
For years before either of them had set foot in Bridgeford, Oscar Yoshida and Matt Wolanski had worked together at the FBI tracking down foreign spies. Now they were together again, sitting in this courtroom as Benton Dynamics tried to locate its missing KEL drive and determine which files were stolen. Someone had planted that KEL drive at my law office, so I would take the fall. Then the true purpose of the unmarked speed cameras all over Chester County suddenly became apparent.
Yoshida sat stoically in the witness stand, waiting for my question. The time had come to take a risk.
I said to Yoshida. “There is no Remora Shadow. Nothing on that KEL drive is real. Is it?”
His eyes widened. “You violated the court’s order. You’ve accessed the files. The only way you’d know that …”
“Objection!” Nielsen snapped in a voice like a chisel against granite. “Your Honor, counsel has flagrantly disregarded your order …”
“But I didn’t,” I said plainly.
Judge Arnetti raised her hand. Her face reddened as she coiled back in her chair like a copperhead ready to strike. “I will handle this, Mr. Nielsen. Now you listen to me, Mr. Seagraves. My order was clear. No one was to view or otherwise access the confidential data of Benton Dynamics.”
“Your Honor …” I tried to explain, but she waved me off.
Judge Arnetti continued icily, “Mr. Seagraves, you will address the court when I’m finished. I faxed the temporary restraining order to you to ensure you received it. No one was to view or otherwise use the files on that drive, including to prepare for this hearing. Now it shows up at your law office. Based on your questions, it appears that you know what’s on it. That’s simply not acceptable.”
The courtroom was silent, and I knew better than to speak until the judge had finished. She had not.
“Mr. Seagraves, this state allows a maximum sentence of one hundred eighty days incarceration for contempt of court. My time on this bench has taught me that when emotions are running high, bad decisions follow. For that reason, the court will take a one hour recess for our lunch break. When we are back in session, Mr. Seagraves will be afforded exactly two minutes to explain himself and show cause why this court should not hold him in contempt.”
27
“All rise,” the bailiff announced in a commanding voice.
Judge Arnetti grimaced and descended from the bench. Everyone in the courtroom stood quietly until she returned to chambers and closed the door with a clack that echoed off the plaster walls.
Marisa leaned toward me and asked what had just happened and why the judge was angry. Shaking my head, I explained that I was not completely sure, but the judge and opposing counsel suspected that I had the KEL drive the entire time. I assured her that was not true. Marisa drew back and squinted, studying my face with uncertain eyes. She claimed that she needed to visit the restroom and left. Even my own client doubted me. With alternating waves of dread and depression washing through me, I sat down alone at the trial table.
All I had done was discover the truth about the Remora Shadow. By proving the underwater drone was a fraud, I had put myself in jeopardy – not only with the judge, but perhaps in other ways I could only surmise. Some people in this courtroom must have known that I was close to exposing them.
Most importantly, I had to convince Judge Arnetti and E.J. Nielsen that I had not concealed the KEL drive and that Marisa was wrongfully charged. I was almost out of time to connect the final pieces of the puzzle. The judge would call the case again in less than an hour and possibly sanction me, all because my paralegal walked into court with the missing KEL drive. I had previously been inside the county lockup, but only for clients. Not as the accused. If I failed to act fast, handcuffs on my wrists and the clank of iron bars might be how my afternoon would start.
Grabbing my new phone from my suit jacket, I typed the phrase “in quiet lagoons, devils dwell” into a search engine. As the results began to download, E.J. Nielsen approached my trial table and hovered over me.
“Bryce, were you out of your mind?” he snapped in a bitter stage whisper. “What’d you think you were doing? Do you have any idea …?”
Holding up my palm, I cut him off. “E.J., you’ve got it all wrong. Everybody does. I never had that KEL drive. Think about it. Even if I did, I couldn’t have done anything with it. Not without the right computer equipment to open files. And the password, which I didn’t have either.”
“Your client knew the password,” he sneered.
“Look, Benton Dynamics will run diagnostics and see that I didn’t access it. This’ll all make sense soon, so just give me some time, okay? I’ve never seen that KEL drive before, except just now in court.”
My opponent glared at me and shook his head, letting me know this was far from over. He turned abruptly and walked
