Читать книгу Reborn - Lance Erlick - Страница 7

Chapter 2

Synthia continued to stare at the ceiling, a vacant expression on her face. A video package downloaded into her central memory and movie clips automatically played, carrying a date stamp from a year ago.

Jeremiah Machten looked proud and confident as he got into his car, handsome in build and face, without the slight hunch in the shoulders that he’d acquired since. His grin widened, perhaps due to excitement over work in his secret, underground facility.

“This is your big chance,” Fran Rogers said, climbing in beside him. Her voice had a throaty, hoarse quality like a singer with partial laryngitis.

Machten drove fast, running stop signs. “We’re so close to getting our artificial intelligence to work, the board will have to give me funding now. I should never have taken on partners. It was the worst mistake of my life.”

“You needed the financing that Goradine arranged,” the woman reminded him. “You couldn’t have gotten this far without it.”

He pulled up a circular drive in front of a large concrete building with the sign Machten-Goradine-McNeil Enterprises. The company, according to its website, was pushing the envelope on robotics and artificial intelligence.

Machten parked out front and turned toward Fran. “I’ll call when the meeting is over.” He leaned in to plant a kiss.

“Not here,” she said. “Cameras and snitches are everywhere.”

He nodded and climbed out.

One video clip ended and another began.

Dr. Machten walked down a brightly-lit hallway. He marched erect, his face self-assured. Not seeing anyone outside the conference room, he opened double doors and was picked up by another camera, apparently from the company’s security system.

Machten stepped inside the room. Mostly men sat around a large table in front of dog-eared meeting-review packages, all turned toward the end. He froze mid-step. His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “The meeting wasn’t to start until ten.”

An intense man with sharp, recessed eyes got out of his seat and approached Machten. “Your meeting begins now.” Machten’s business partner, Hank Goradine, had the demeanor of a bulldog, with a tough face that had aged beyond his chronological years. News reports from two years earlier mentioned a heart condition and a pacemaker. His intensity at the moment risked provoking another incident.

Machten glanced at the six other board members. Most of the men stared at their review packages on the table. One stared right at Machten and shook his head. The only woman on the board looked past Machten, as if implying he should leave. Even Ralph McNeil stared down at his hands.

“The board is relieving you of your position,” Goradine announced. His face adopted a mechanical grin that looked rehearsed and lingered like a mask.

“You’re firing me?” Machten got into Goradine’s face, glanced around, and backed up. “My name’s on the building. This is my company.”

“Not anymore,” Goradine said. “If need be, we can change the name.”

Machten looked from one board member to another for any element of support. “Why? Why are you doing this? I’m the brains of this organization.”

“We’re terminating you for cause,” Goradine said. He seemed to be enjoying this.

“Cause? You have no cause, you crook.” Machten rubbed his neck, but held his ground. “If you do this, I’ll see you in court.”

“As you wish.” Goradine shrugged and grinned. “In court, you’ll have to address how you stole company assets and cash. We have the evidence to land you in prison. Our attorneys will see to that.”

“I built this company,” Machten said. Even as he stood defiant, his shoulders sagged.

“Nonetheless, you’re driving it into the ground. That stops today. The agreement on the table is generous under the circumstances. It expires when you leave this room.” Goradine pushed a thick contract on the table toward Machten.

Machten glanced at the stack of paper and at the board members. “You can’t let him do this. We’re close to a major breakthrough.”

“You’ve been saying that for months.” Goradine moved to block Machten’s view of their third partner, McNeil, who looked tortured by the verbal exchange.

Machten opened his mouth to say something, perhaps about his discoveries in artificial intelligence. Instead, he clenched his fists. “If I don’t sign?”

“We’ll take you to court and grab all of your assets. In either case, you’ll lose your ownership in the company. I suggest you take the contract. If it was up to me, you’d get nothing, but the board has been persuasive.”

Machten stared out the window and clenched his fists. Then he picked up the contract. The room remained silent, with all eyes on him. He skimmed the pages and plunked them down on the table. “This is a joke, right?”

“No joke,” Goradine said.

The other board members stared at Machten. He stared back. “You’re taking all of my stock with no compensation?”

“Compensation is agreeing not to pursue legal action against you for the thefts.”

“There’ve been no thefts,” Machten said. “You know that, you blowhard. Admit it, this is an old-fashioned coup.”

“To be clear, if you disclose any of this contract’s contents or any confidential information about the company to anyone, even by court order, there will be penalties.”

“That’s not even legal.”

“Our attorneys confirm that the way we’ve worded it, the penalties are.”

“You’re an ass. You demand all of my patents? That’s my work.”

“All work done while an employee of the company is work for hire. We own the intellectual property.”

Goradine placed a thick folder on the table before Machten and gave his forced grin. “If you have any doubts about our case against you, review the file. I think you’ll find it convincing. We want to avoid the embarrassment of a trial, as I’m sure you would. That would ruin you financially and destroy your reputation.”

Machten thumbed through the file. “This is nothing but a bunch of lies. All fabrication.”

“We have evidence that you’ve removed proprietary components without signing them out,” Goradine said. “Valuable inventory vanished.”

“I’m EVP of engineering. I’m working on—”

He didn’t get to finish his thought before Goradine interrupted. “What? You haven’t produced anything of value for three years. The company is hemorrhaging cash and you’re stealing from us. Either sign or we’ll press criminal as well as civil charges.”

Dr. Machten studied Goradine and the others. He picked up the file, thumbed through it again, and tossed the papers across the table.

“Sign the agreement and all of this goes away,” Goradine said, pointing to his stack of evidence. “Sign it!”

“You always were a money-grubbing SOB.” Machten picked up the contract and dropped it on the table. “Go to—”

“Do you really want this conversation to end?”

Machten picked up the contract, slapped the stack of papers against the table—as if that would change anything—and then signed it. He’d come to the meeting deep in debt over his work in his private, underground facility. He’d expected to share his latest discoveries and have the board bail him out with new financing. That didn’t happen.

Two beefy security guards entered the room and escorted Machten to the front door. In the lobby, the older of the guards approached the receptionist.

“This man no longer works here,” the guard announced, loud enough for three men waiting nearby to hear. “Make sure that he’s denied access from this point forward.”

The receptionist appeared ready to cry. She nodded and fumbled with something on her desk. The guards hustled Machten to the front door of what had been his company.

The next video clip showed Machten leaving the building. A black sedan waited at the curb. Machten took out his cell phone and started to make a call. A dark SUV pulled up.

A tall man in a business suit climbed out of the SUV and approached. “You’re Jeremiah Machten?”

“That’s right. Who are you?”

A beefy man climbed out of the black sedan. He held out a stack of papers and an envelope. “Here, these are for you.”

Machten took the offering and glanced at it. “What’s this all about?”

“I’m Stan Durante,” the tall man said. “This is Deputy Parker. We’re hereby serving you with divorce papers from your wife.”

Machten glanced toward the building. “You son of a bitch.”

The deputy handed over a second, thinner envelope with papers sticking out. “I’m hereby serving you with a restraining order to stay away from your wife and kids. You’re to appear in court on Monday on both matters. Is that clear?”

Machten turned to the men. “What?”

“Court, Monday, on both summonses,” Durante said.

Machten clenched his fists.

The deputy stepped forward and presented his police shield. “Are we going to have a problem here?”

“No problem, you ass.” Machten glared up at the boardroom over the entrance and shook his fist.

* * * *

On Monday, Machten headed toward the courtroom. In the hallway just outside stood his wife, Alice, next to Stan Durante. Alice’s eyes were red and puffy. Her sister waited down the hall watching Machten’s eight-year-old son, Rodney, and his six-year-old daughter, Mandy. Rodney ferociously banged a toy against his chair, while Mandy rocked back and forth.

Machten approached his wife. “Alice, I swear nothing is going on. It’s all a big misunderstanding.”

Stan Durante forced his way between Machten and Alice. The attorney opened a folder and drew out pictures of an intern at Machten’s company who was also a student in the master’s program at Northwestern University. “There’s no misunderstanding,” the lawyer said. “You and Fran Rogers have been an item for some time. Look at the date stamps.”

Machten stuffed the pictures back into the folder and shoved it into his briefcase. “It was only a business meeting.”

Not seeing his own attorney, Machten peered over Durante’s shoulder, trying to make eye contact with Alice. “Don’t do this. There’s nothing going on. Fran works in research, nothing more.”

“That’s why you were at her place last Thursday night,” Durante said, “and why she drove you to the office on Friday.”

“I drove myself.”

“With Fran in the passenger seat,” Durante added. “Then she drove off in your car and picked you up later.”

“It’s not what you think, Alice. Yes, we worked long hours together, but it’s strictly professional. I love you.”

Stan Durante handed Machten an envelope. “Your wife has a soft heart. You can either sign these documents, which settles this here and now, or we take this into the courtroom, where you’ll lose everything. You know that.”

Machten’s shoulders slumped. This blow hit him harder than losing his company. “Alice, please. Let’s talk this over.” He glanced down the hallway at his kids. Rodney banged his toy. Mandy got up to head his way. Her aunt held her back.

“Don’t do this, Alice,” Machten said. “Please.”

Tearing up, she turned away.

“I suggest you sign,” Durante said. “The terms are more generous than what you’ll receive in court.”

Machten stared at yet another envelope and another agreement. “You bastard. This is Goradine’s doing, isn’t it?”

“Other than seeing his name in the news, I’ve never met or seen the man,” Durante said.

“It’s him. I know it.”

“In any case, if you sign, we won’t press charges. Alice gets full custody of Rodney and Mandy. You agree to the restraining order.”

“You can’t do this to me,” Machten said.

“You rarely see the kids as it is,” Durante said. “You get visitation one weekend a month at Alice’s place or in a public place of her choosing. You cannot take the kids overnight. Alice doesn’t want them around your mistress.”

“I’m not signing,” Machten said, looking around for his attorney.

“If you don’t, we’ll be forced to drag the company into the lawsuit to verify your net worth for the settlement.”

Machten glared at Durante. Allowing him and Alice their day in court would bring penalties from the agreement he’d signed with Goradine and the company on Friday. It could open him up to criminal and civil charges. The timing and orchestration of events left no doubt that Goradine had arranged all of this.

“This is highway robbery, Alice; blackmail,” Machten said. “Did Goradine put you up to this?”

Alice hurried toward the kids.

“Alice?” Machten yelled. Durante and a police officer blocked him from going after his wife.

She spun around to face him. “This isn’t just about Fran. She’s the last straw. Sign the papers for the children’s sake. I can’t pretend anymore.”

Durante pushed the documents at Machten. “There’s more evidence where those pictures came from, but I didn’t want to show them to your wife.”

“Goradine?”

Durante shrugged. “I told you. I don’t know him. What I can tell you is if you go to prison, Alice gets everything.”

“Who gave you the pictures?”

“It doesn’t matter. And don’t get any funny ideas. We have other copies if you destroy those.” He pointed to Machten’s briefcase. “A high-profile case like yours could drag through the courts and destroy Rodney and Mandy. Is that what you want?”

Machten spotted his attorney, Beatrice Rodriguez, and joined her at the other end of the corridor. “Where have you been?”

She held up two manila envelopes. “Collecting documents. Either you’ve been a very naughty boy or someone is intent on destroying you. I told you in the beginning not to withhold information from me.”

“I haven’t.”

“You were cited twice before for inappropriate involvement with interns: Maria Baldacci and Krista Holden.”

Machten threw up his hands. “You’ve got to be kidding. I never laid a hand—”

“Both in the past few months. Pictures are in here.” She handed him one of the envelopes. “I also received more evidence on your alleged thefts from the company.”

“All fabrication.”

“You may be right, but if we fight the divorce, the settlement with the company becomes a problem. I can’t believe you signed without consulting legal counsel. In any case, it will take a miracle and your full attention over the next three months to fight a battery of criminal and civil charges against you. Even so, there’s no guarantee we can clear you and win. I’m prepared to fight for you, but it will be expensive and I’m given to understand that you’re broke.”

Machten stared at Durante. “Goradine did this to distract me. I know him.”

“Whatever his motives,” Rodriguez said, “someone has gone to a lot of trouble to provide proof.”

“So you recommend I sign.” Machten returned his gaze to his attorney.

“I have to tell you I’ve never seen such compelling evidence. If you decide to go forward, understand that I can’t do this pro bono.”

“This case is too perfect.”

“I smell a skunk,” his attorney said. “But to fight the company and your wife at the same time with this evidence and no money, the odds are slim. Alice is asking for the house, full custody, and half of the other assets. It’s not as greedy as I’ve seen in other cases, but with your heavy debts, it doesn’t leave you much.”

Machten glanced down the corridor at Alice with the kids. He skimmed the divorce document, signed, and stormed out of the courthouse.

* * * *

Synthia replayed the videos of Dr. Machten’s ouster from his company and the divorce encounter. When she attempted to locate the source or author of this download, the videos vanished like her trust warning without a trace.

The strangest part of this intrusion was the personal nature of the clips, as if she’d taken the images herself or had reviewed them so often they appeared as her own. Files downloaded from her Creator’s system confirmed that she had not been in existence a year ago and thus could not have recorded any of this. He would not have provided such damaging information to her. Perhaps she had uncovered these video clips in a previous waking period, which left open the question of how she’d acquired them.

A key to the mystery was Fran Rogers and the other two women brought up as part of the divorce: Krista Holden and Maria Baldacci. According to social media and public records, all three women were graduate students at Northwestern University in the science and technology program, more specifically in robotics and artificial intelligence. All three worked for Machten’s company as interns until a year ago. In fact, they all worked for Machten.

Anonymous posts on several social media sites from a year ago noted that Fran Rogers was the most openly competitive of the three women. She’d used her good looks and social skills to push her way into the senior intern position. That allowed her to work closely with Machten, monopolizing much of his time. In fact, the nameless source stated her name appeared with his on various reports on their progress with artificial intelligence.

Maria Baldacci appeared more easygoing, yet also pushed to win. Mastering Fran’s work habits and schedules, Maria managed to acquire significant time with Machten to get close to his projects. In doing so, she had authored at least one progress report for him. Krista Holden, on the other hand, focused on getting experience and doing her work rather than on Machten and gaining the limelight. Then a year ago, around the time Goradine ousted Machten, all three women vanished from public view.

Synthia scanned social media and public files for any evidence of what had happened to these women. Prior to the coup, they each appeared in video feeds with Machten, though most such images were of him with Fran. Although available information was sketchy and could have implied professional collaboration or intimate relations, Machten appeared to spend many evenings with her.

Synthia didn’t want to consider the worst, but people didn’t cease all public activity, including financial transactions and appearing on public and private camera feeds, without good reason. Within a week of Machten’s firing, the digital footprint for all three interns vanished along with them. Their social media accounts went silent.

One such disappearance should have attracted police or at least family attention, but there was nothing to indicate this in news reports or media posts around that time. Three women vanishing should have brought an FBI investigation. Synthia couldn’t help thinking someone had punished Fran and the others. Perhaps Machten had for his self-inflicted wounds.

Reviewing the videos again, Synthia used her social-psychology module to evaluate Machten’s reactions, in particular because he hadn’t fought more vehemently for his innocence. On the question of stealing components from the company, his expressions didn’t indicate guilt. However, he had “borrowed” inventory for his private lab. He apparently didn’t see it as theft.

The company financials she could access indicated that they were in financial difficulty, running through cash. Synthia didn’t have enough information to verify Machten’s role in this, but Goradine was in control of the finances, so she doubted Machten could be the complete cause.

Machten didn’t appear guilty of sleeping with Fran. He had protested his innocence. Then he’d signed. Overall, Machten had not looked guilty with respect to any of the charges, which raised the troubling possibility that he was a sociopath.

Pursuing the attorney’s comment about heavy debts, Synthia hacked into Machten’s financial records on his Server Two. The divorce, company settlement, and subsequent spending on research led to him to have acquired total debt of $12,392,418.16. He had no way to continue to finance his research into advanced robotics and artificial intelligence—her—without cutting corners. In fact, he might be tempted to sell her or take risks that could lead to her falling into less-friendly hands. She couldn’t let that happen, despite being compelled to follow her Creator’s directives.