Chapter 7 - The Deposition of Grant Whitmore
We didn't wait for a trial. Ruth filed an emergency motion for an expedited deposition, citing the imminent risk of irreparable harm to a publicly traded entity. Because of the gravity of the criminal allegations, a federal judge granted the request within twelve hours.
The deposition took place in a neutral conference room at the federal courthouse.
Grant sat across from me, flanked by an expensive criminal defense attorney named Richard Sterling (no relation to Dr. Sterling, unfortunately). Grant looked tired, but he still held onto his smug, condescending smile.
“Evelyn,” he said as the court reporter turned on the recording device. “Always so dramatic. We could have settled this quietly in divorce court.”
“This isn't a divorce, Grant,” I said. “This is an autopsy of your career.”
Ruth began the questioning, her voice cool and lethal.
“Mr. Whitmore, do you recognize this digital signature?” she asked, displaying the authorization form for the release of Compound-889.
“It looks like my wife’s signature,” Grant said smoothly. “She must have authorized it.”
“The digital certificate shows it was signed using a security token assigned to you, from an IP address registered to your private residence,” Ruth countered.
“Someone must have hacked my network,” Grant replied without blinking. “I’m a victim of cyber-theft.”
“I see,” Ruth said. “And did this mysterious hacker also send these text messages from your personal phone to Vanessa Hale, discussing the plan to drug your wife and sell company secrets to Aegis Pharma?”
Grant’s attorney leaned over, whispering in his ear. Grant cleared his throat. “I assert my Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination.”
“On every message?” Ruth asked.
“On that line of questioning, yes,” Grant said, his smile faltering slightly.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Let’s skip the theater, Grant. We have Vanessa’s key. We know about the seventy-two-hour deletion window.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t expected Vanessa to break so quickly.
“You have fifty-two hours before the Vane-Project data is permanently erased from the Aegis server,” I said.
“If that data is lost, Aegis won’t pay you a single dime. And without that money, how are you going to pay back the offshore creditors you borrowed from to fund your luxury lifestyle?”
The smugness finally vanished from his face. His skin turned a sickly, pale green.
“You think you’re so smart,” he hissed, ignoring his attorney’s frantic hand gestures to stay silent.
“Without that data, your precious company is worthless anyway! The merger will fall through! You’ll be ruined right along with me!”
“No,” I said, a slow smile spreading across my lips.
“Because while you were busy trying to steal the Vane-Project, you forgot one very important detail. I didn't store the real genomic sequences on the main server. I moved them to an offline, air-gapped system three months ago when I first realized you were stealing from the company.”
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Grant stared at me, his mouth opening slightly but no sound coming out.
“The data you stole,” I whispered, “is a beautiful, highly detailed, completely non-functional dummy sequence. If Aegis tries to use it, they’ll waste fifty million dollars trying to synthesize a protein that does absolutely nothing.”
