Get in, Ms. Lin, Arthur Henderson said. Maya stared at him. The shark from the boardroom. Did you do this? she asked clutching her plastic bag.
I invested $50,000 in a distressed asset this morning, Henderson said calmly. I expect a return on that investment. Get in. We don't have much time before the market opens. Maya hesitated.
This man was part of that world, the world that crushed people like her. Why? she asked. Because I hate losing money more than I hate being wrong, Henderson said. And Julian Thorne is about to lose me a great deal of money.
You're the only person who can stop him. Maya got in. The interior smelled of rich leather, a stark contrast to the jail cell. Where are we going? Maya asked as the car pulled away into traffic.
Thorne Vanguard headquarters, Henderson said. We have a 9:30 a.m. meeting. We're going to crash it. I can't go there, Maya said, panic rising. Julian will have me arrested again on site.
I'm already facing felonies. He won't arrest you, Henderson said, pulling a sleek laptop from the seat pocket, the same one from the restaurant, because you're going to walk in there holding the gun that's currently pointed at his head. He opened the laptop. It was logged into a secure server. Last night after you left, I didn't just walk away, Henderson explained.
I had my team run a tracer on the demo account you used. We pulled the execution logs. But more importantly, we pulled the metadata from the code you input. He turned the screen toward her. It showed lines of code, but highlighted were timestamps and author tags buried deep in the digital architecture.
Author M. Lin Project Omega. Creation date: October 2019. Maya gasped. How?
That was wiped. The university said they deleted everything. Nothing is ever truly deleted, Ms. Lin, Henderson said with a dry smile. Especially when Richard Thorne wanted to keep a copy for himself. When Julian's team stole your work, they were lazy.
They copy-pasted the core structure. They didn't bother scrubbing the deep level author tags because they didn't even know where to look for them. They aren't mathematicians. They're thieves. Henderson closed the laptop.
This proves everything. It proves the Icarus Protocol is yours. It proves Julian lied to his shareholders, which is securities fraud on a massive scale. He looked at Maya, his eyes hard and serious. Here is the deal.
I can give this to the SEC. Julian goes to prison. But that takes years, and you still face the charges he filed last night. It gets messy. Or?
Maya asked. Or we walk into his boardroom in 20 minutes. You present this data to him and his remaining investors. You demand he drop all charges against you, publicly admit the theft, and step down as CEO. In exchange, we don't send him to federal prison today.
We just let him go bankrupt quietly. Why would you help me do that? Maya asked. You're one of them. I'm not one of them, Henderson corrected.
I'm a capitalist. Julian is bad for capitalism. He cheats, and worse, he's incompetent at it. You, Ms. Lin, are the real thing. I want to invest in the real thing.
He leaned in closer. But make no mistake. This is dangerous. Julian is cornered. If you walk in there, you have to own the room.
You cannot be the waitress. You have to be the architect. Can you do that? Maya looked down at her hands. The scrapes were still raw.
She thought about the jail cell. She thought about her mother's medication. She thought about four years of shame. She looked up at Henderson, and the fire that had burned in the restaurant was back hotter this time. Let's go take him down, she said.
The boardroom at Thorne Vanguard Capital was 60 floors up, encased in glass, offering a panoramic view of a city that worshipped money. Julian stood at the head of a massive polished stone table. He looked exhausted. His usual perfect hair was slightly askew, and there was a manic energy in his eyes. Seated around the table were the representatives of the Sterling Trust, three severe-looking men in dark suits, and the Zurich Group, who looked impatient.
"The delays are purely administrative." Julian was saying, his voice a little too loud. "The diligence check Mr. Henderson requested is underway, but I assure you the Icarus Protocol is proprietary Thorn technology. We are ready to accept your capital injection and begin trading immediately." "We'll wait for Henderson."
The lead Sterling investor said, checking his watch. "He controls the largest tranche of the investment. We don't move without him." "Henderson got cold feet." Julian scoffed.
"He's aging. He's lost his nerve for real risk. We don't need him." The double doors at the far end of the room swung open. "Actually, Julian."
Henderson's voice boomed across the room. "I think you do." Henderson walked in, confident and imposing, but all eyes instantly shifted to the person walking beside him. It was Maya. She wasn't wearing a waitress uniform anymore.
Henderson had stopped on the way. She wore a sharply tailored navy blazer over a white blouse, dark trousers, and heels that clicked with authority on the stone floor. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun. The transformation was startling. She didn't look like help.
She looked like a CEO in waiting. Julian dropped the laser pointer he was holding. It clattered loudly on the floor. "Security!" Julian screamed, slamming his hand on the intercom button on the table.
"Get security up here. The trespasser is back!" "Cancel that." The lead Sterling investor said sharply. "Let them in, Julian.
I want to hear this." "She's a criminal. I had her arrested last night." Julian shouted, losing control. "And I bailed her out this morning."
Henderson said calmly, pulling out a chair for Maya at the center of the table directly opposite Julian. Maya sat down. She didn't look at the view. She didn't look at the investors. She locked eyes with Julian.
"Hello, Julian." She said. Her voice was steady, devoid of the deference she had been forced to use yesterday. "You have 5 seconds to leave before I have you forcibly removed again." Julian hissed.