He hung up and stared out the window at the city lights below. He was Julian Thorne. He owned this city. A waitress with a piece of chalk wasn't going to take it away from him. Maya didn't go home.
She couldn't face her mother yet. She walked for hours. The pain in her scraped palms a grounding throb against the numbness in her mind. She ended up in a 24-hour diner far uptown nursing a lukewarm coffee she could barely afford, sketching equations on napkins just to keep her brain from eating itself alive. At 3:00 a.m., two uniformed police officers walked in.
Maya froze. Julian had actually done it. He'd reported her. They walked straight to her booth. Maya Lin?
She nodded mutely. We have a warrant for your arrest. Charges of corporate espionage, trespassing, and unauthorized access to financial data. Stand up and place your hands behind your back. The ride to the precinct was a blur.
The booking process was humiliating, fingerprints, mug shots, the cold indifference of the system. She was placed in a holding cell with three other women. One was sleeping off a drunk. The other two were arguing quietly about a shoplifting bust. Maya sat on the metal bench pulling her knees to her chest.
The reality of her situation settled over her like a lead blanket. This wasn't just losing a job anymore. This was prison. Julian has the money, the lawyers, the connections. He could bury her in litigation until she died of old age in a cell.
She thought about the thesis, the years of work. She had wanted to help farmers predict droughts. She wanted to use math to feed people. And the Thorn family had twisted it into a weapon to steal money. And now they were using it to destroy her.
I should have just kept pouring the wine, she thought bitterly. Why did I have to open my mouth? She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. But all she could see was the volatility curve, the beautiful complex dance of numbers that she understood better than people. At 7:00 a.m., the heavy cell door clanked open.
A guard called her name. Lynn, you made bail. Maya blinked groggy and confused. Bail? I don't have anyone who could post bail.
How much was it? $50,000. Cashier's check just cleared. You're free to go pending arraignment. $50,000.
It was an impossible number. She was processed out, given her meager possessions in a plastic bag. She walked out of the precinct into the blinding morning sun. A black Bentley was parked at the curb. The rear window rolled down.
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.