It's a tragic reality of the service industry these days." He pushed the contract toward Henderson. "Now, shall we finalize the transfer? 50 million. The Project Icarus protocol is ready to launch."
Henderson looked at the contract. Then he looked at the blank whiteboard where Maya's elegant equations had been. Then he looked at the Zurich investor who was silently closing his laptop. "The girl." Henderson said slowly.
"Her name was Maya Lin. I remember that name now. The MIT scandal four years ago." "Old news." Julian waved a hand.
"She's a fraud. My father exposed her." "Your father." Henderson murmured. He remembered Richard Thorne.
A man so ruthless he would foreclose on an orphanage if the paperwork was a day late. "Julian." "If that girl is a fraud, how did she generate a 2.4% return in five minutes using a volatility model you couldn't even define?" "It was a fluke, a lucky guess in a chaotic market." Julian insisted, his voice rising.
The Zurich investor spoke up without looking up from his briefcase. "I do not believe in luck, Mr. Thorn. And I do not invest $50 million on guesses. The demonstration we just witnessed, it changed the parameters of the agreement." "What are you saying?"
Julian demanded. Henderson stood up. He didn't pick up the pen. "I'm saying the deal is off, Julian. At least this version of it.
I'm not buying your algorithm. I want the one that was on that laptop. Julian turned pale. But that is my algorithm. She just tweaked it.
Then you won't mind if we delay signing for 24 hours while my team runs a full diligence check on the code architecture to establish authorship, Henderson said coldly. Julian felt the room spin. A diligence check? They would find the patches. They would find the holes he tried to plug.
They would see that the core engine was written four years ago, long before his team supposedly built it. That's outrageous, Julian sputtered. I have other investors lined up. If you walk out that door, the opportunity is gone. Henderson smiled, the shark scenting blood in the water.
No, you don't, Julian. I know for a fact you're leveraged to the hilt. The Sterling Trust is the only lifeline you have left. Without our 50 million by Friday, Thorne Vanguard is insolvent. Henderson buttoned his jacket.
You have until tomorrow morning at 9:30 a.m. to prove to me that you own that code. If not, I'm taking my capital elsewhere. Henderson and the Swiss group walked out. Julian was left alone in the silent boardroom. The smell of cold Wagyu beef sickening him.
He stared at the contract unsigned. He grabbed his phone and dialed a number. It's Julian. We have a problem. The waitress, she knows too much.
No, I don't want her hurt. I want her buried. Dig up everything. Any unpaid parking ticket, any overdue library book. I want her discredited so thoroughly that even her own mother wouldn't believe her.