Chasing Hindy

by Darin Gibby

  Addy paused. How would Quinn know about their discussion? She wondered what kind of surveillance network Quinn had tracking her.

  “How’d you know?” she asked.

  “Because he called me in the middle of the night.”

  Addy gasped. “What? Perry? How did he get your number?”

  “Janice, I suppose—which is something else we need to discuss.”

  “Wait. Perry really called you?”

  “Oh, yeah, he had all kinds of nice things to say, like how he thought I was scum of the earth, and how he was going to do everything he could to stop me from ruining your life. You know, things like that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Addy said.

  “That’s okay. I understand. He’s not the first one to tell me that my people are ruining America.”

  “He said that?”

  “I think his exact words were that I took some true-blooded American’s spot at a prestigious university, then used my education to prey on vulnerable girls.”

  Addy clenched her fists. So she was just a little girl to him? Why hadn’t she punched him in the nose when he was still within reach?

  “Sorry, I’ve got to run,” Quinn said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Wait,” Addy said, still wondering whether she should ask him about the name, Jerry Wilcox. There was no reply. She handed the phone back to Sung-soo. They could talk more tomorrow.

  24

  ADDY STARED AT her watch, then checked her email, watching for any sign of Quinn. It was already after eight, and they needed to leave for the Patent Office no later than nine o’clock. She’d intended to do a quick search for Jerry Wilcox, but was too busy preparing for the interview, mentally rehearsing every possible scenario. This was something she couldn’t mess up.

  Although she dreaded the thought, she needed to ask Sung-soo for an update. If Quinn didn’t arrive soon, she’d need to call the examiner and postpone the interview, something she desperately wanted to avoid. Interviews were discretionary, and because of the examiner’s deadline to act on the case, they might not get another chance.

  She rang his line and learned that not only had Quinn’s flight had been delayed, but he also had an issue with Customs. Their driver had picked him up at the San Francisco airport, and Sung-soo estimated they would arrive at the office shortly after nine. They were cutting it close.

  Addy was ready the moment they arrived. Briefcase in hand, she darted into the parking lot and hopped into the back seat. She scooted next to Quinn.

  “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you,” she said. “Any issues?”

  “Only if you call a body search an issue,” he said, dusting off his lapel. “They also tore through my suitcases, but couldn’t find anything related to a fuel cell or a catalyst.”

  “But you have them, right?”

  Quinn smiled. “Of course. I used a mule, actually two mules,” he continued as their driver sped them down the 101 toward San Jose.

  Addy was familiar with the term mule from law school. A mule was someone who smuggled contraband into the States, usually drugs from Central America. In Quinn’s case, it was a vial full of gray powder and a shoebox containing a fuel cell.

  Addy peeked nervously into the rearview mirror, then swiveled her head to look out the back window. Placing his finger on her chin, Quinn brought her face back around.

  “Easy, they’re ours. I’m not taking any chances.”

  “How many?”

  “Three vehicles. Nothing is going to happen to us. As soon as this interview is over, I’m getting back on a plane, and this little jar of chemicals is headed back to Korea.”

  Addy wondered whether she should ask Quinn about his brief employment stint after graduation and why Agent Long had thrown out the name of Jerry Wilcox. She decided that focusing on the arguments she was going to present to the patent examiner was more important.

  The Silicon Valley Patent Office was located in the San Jose City Hall building, one of four Patent and Trademark satellite offices authorized by President Barack Obama in 2011. The other outposts were located in Detroit, Dallas, and Denver.

  Since the main Patent Office in Alexandria, Virginia, was bursting at the seams, and patent examiners regularly clamored to work somewhere other than the crowded Eastern seaboard—with its expensive real estate, gridlocked roads and humid summers—politicians relented to test the concept of satellite patent offices.

  While the hope had been to have patent applications examined by local examiners, patent applications were instead randomly assigned. So, an inventor in Dallas might need to travel to Detroit to visit with the assigned examiner. Addy knew they’d gotten lucky when Examiner Johnston told them he lived near San Jose. She’d take an hour car ride to San Jose over flying to the nation’s capital any day.

  At the steps of city hall, Addy straightened her jacket, tucked her hair behind her ear, and adjusted the stack of documents in her arms. Quinn repeatedly patted his pocket, assuring himself the catalyst was still in his possession.

  “A few housekeeping things,” Addy said, her heels clacking on the marble floor. “We’ll need to go through security. It’s kind of like going through an airport, with a luggage scanner and metal detector. They’ll want to look at the fuel cell, but you can probably get away with keeping the vial in your pocket. Just make sure you get all the metal off you so the alarm won’t beep.”

  “Got it,” he said, once again patting his pocket.

  “The examiner said he’s arranged a conference room. When we arrive, you can set up the demo. But remember to keep your mouth shut unless I nod at you to speak. I’ve had enough inventors screw these things up by shooting off their mouths. Let me do the talking. Got it?”

  “What if he asks me a question?”

  “Let me answer unless I nod. That will be my signal that it’s okay for you to open your mouth. And just because I give you the green light, that doesn’t mean I can’t turn it off. If you start saying something stupid, I’m going to kick you in the shin. That means you need to shut up. Got it?”

  Quinn smiled and his white teeth sparkled in the sunlight. “It’s why I hired you.”

  When they entered the front lobby there was already a queue at the security desk. Addy looked at her watch. They were five minutes early, but there was only one security guard carefully checking in each visitor, diligently following his intake protocol. Addy watched Quinn wipe his forehead, even though the outside temperature was in the sixties. In his suit, he reminded her of the evening in Vietnam when they first met, yet this time so much more vulnerable. He was on her turf now.

  Addy pulled out her phone to call the examiner and explain their delay. It went straight into voicemail. The examiner was probably already waiting in a conference room, far away from his phone.

  It took fifteen minutes before the security guard asked them for their identifications. Addy plopped down her driver’s license. “Got your passport?” she said to Quinn, almost reaching into his pocket.

  “You never told me,” Quinn whispered.

  The guard, a gentleman with gray hair and a bald top peered over his bifocals. “I’m going to need some official government ID. No exceptions.”

  Quinn frantically searched his pockets and tugged out his wallet. “Driver’s license?” he said handing it to the guard.

  The man turned it over a few times and studied the photo.

  “It’s Korean,” Quinn said.

  “Thought it was Japanese. I guess it will work. Put your goodies on the conveyor, take out any metal objects and walk through the detector.”

  Addy went first while the man started up the scanner and studied the screen while Addy’s purse disappeared into the tunnel. Quinn dashed through as if he were a running back. The detector beeped the moment his body went through the frame. The guard looked up, waved him back and kept studying his monitor.

  “What you got here?”

  “Show and tell,” Addy interrupted. “The examiner said he w
anted to see it.”

  “I figured that, but what is it?”

  “A generator,” Addy quickly answered. “Kind of like a battery, but a little different.”

  The man scratched his head. “Okay, as long as it’s not explosive.”

  “Not at all,” Addy said.

  “Take off your shoes,” the man said to Quinn.

  Quinn obeyed and walked through the detector. Again, it beeped.

  “Going to need to pat you down.”

  Quinn swallowed and again wiped the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead.

  “It’s my belt,” Quinn said, tugging it off and handing it to the guard, who peered at it over his bifocals.

  The line behind them was now five deep, and one of the patent attorneys called out and asked if he could cut to the front of the line, claiming his examiner only had fifteen minutes to spare. The guard stared the man down, then handed the belt back to Quinn and motioned for him to put it on.

  “Remember to check out with me before you leave. I’ve got your licenses in my desk.”

  Quinn began to say something, and Addy kicked him while narrowing her eyes. “Examiner Johnston is waiting.”

  The conference room had a long, rectangular table, solid white walls, and no windows. Quinn set down his contraption and shook out his shoulders.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this,” Examiner Johnston said, after making introductions. He then slipped a red daypack off his shoulders, unzipped it, and tugged out a manila folder. The color of his pack nearly matched his hair, which hung in curls over his ears. He was short, and his chiseled face was heavily sprinkled with freckles. “I see a lot of patent applications, but not many like this.”

  Johnston was wearing a wrinkled blue oxford shirt with a yellow paisley tie. Addy noticed his sideburns were wet, like he’d just come from working out at the gym. Addy chuckled to herself. Techies—some things never change.

  “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Addy said. “Quinn, the inventor, is going to set up the demo. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to show you how the invention works before we dive into your rejections in the office action.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Johnston said, hovering next to Quinn while he coupled an LED to a wire that extended out of the metal housing.

  Quinn sheepishly shot a glance at Addy, who subtly nodded her approval. “What we’ve got here is a very simple setup. I’ve electrically connected an LED to the fuel cell, just to show that I’m generating electricity.”

  “From water,” the examiner said.

  “Correct.” Quinn tapped the fuel cell. “This is a proton-conducting fuel cell. Are you familiar with those?”

  Johnston nodded. “I’ve seen a few.”

  Patent examiners are assigned to certain technology groups, so it stood to reason that Examiner Johnston had reviewed any number of patent applications describing fuel cells.

  “This one is a little different,” Addy said, “but don’t worry, after the demo we’ll walk you through how it works. We can even take it apart and show you its insides if you want.”

  “Let’s see how it goes. We only have an hour.” Johnston opened his folder while Quinn continued with his setup. “I’ve read your application. I see you are using a catalyst to extract the hydrogen. How does that work?”

  Addy grinned. Johnston was on the ball. Few examiners bothered to read the patent application, let alone dig deep enough to get to the heart of the invention.

  Quinn again sought Addy’s approval. Upon her signal, Quinn took the vial out of his pocket, retracted a small bin at the top of the fuel cell and tapped in about a teaspoonful of the catalyst like he was putting coffee into a coffee maker. “I’ve just dispensed a small amount of the catalyst. Next, I’ll pour distilled water into a holding tank. This will be fed into a reaction chamber, where the water will react with the catalyst under a small electric charge.”

  “Which you are getting from where?”

  “A very small battery. We don’t need much current, just enough to start the reaction. The hydrogen atoms will separate from the oxygen, and will bubble to the top, where the hydrogen gas is collected and fed into the fuel cell. We’ve made the side wall of the reactor out of a transparent material so you can see it working.”

  “What kind of modifications have you made to the fuel cell?”

  Quinn again sought Addy’s approval. She narrowed her eyes. “Addy will explain those after we finish.”

  Addy wanted to keep Quinn on a short leash, just in case he strayed and said something that could hurt their case. Quinn made a few adjustments, checked the water reservoir and then said, “We’re all set. Do you want to do the honors?”

  “Sure,” Johnston said. “What do I need to do?”

  “Flip this switch, then slowly turn the dial to control the current to the reactor.”

  Examiner Johnston leaned forward and hit the switch with his finger, then slowly turned a black knob. In a matter of seconds, small bubbles floated to the surface. A second later, the LED illuminated.

  Johnston scratched his head while lifting up the shining light. “Okay, I see it works, but how do you know that you’re getting out more energy than you’re putting in?”

  “That’s an easy calculation,” Addy chimed in. “We’re using a watch battery that draws about 20 to 30 milliamps. The LED lights up once the current reaches 100 milliamps. We’re getting out about four times as much energy as we’re putting in.”

  Johnston shook his head. “But that’s impossible.”

  Quinn smiled. “Oh, but it’s not. That’s why we’re here. You can see it for yourself.”

  “Don’t worry,” Addy interrupted, opening her binder. “I’ll walk you through the physics.”

  Johnston leaned over and watched in awe while the bubbles continued to rise and the LED shone brightly.

  “I don’t know about this. What’s the catalyst you’ve got here?” Johnston reached out and snatched the vial from Quinn’s hand. Instinctively, Quinn reached out to grab it back. Johnston held it above his head, using the ceiling lights to visualize the powder as he rolled the vial between his fingers. “What is this stuff? It’s not radioactive, is it?” he said quickly setting it on the table and stepping back as if it were a rattlesnake ready to strike.

  “Totally safe,” Quinn said.

  A moment of silence followed while Addy collected her thoughts. The stillness during her brief hiatus was shattered when the conference room door flew open, slamming against the wall, and a team of federal agents with bright yellow FBI letters on their shirts barged through, automatic weapons drawn. They were all pointing directly at Quinn.

  “Hands in the air!” the first agent shouted. Quinn hesitated, glancing at his fuel cell and the vial that the examiner had set on his folder. “Now!”

  Quinn slowly raised his hands, palms forward. The second agent pressed forward, clamped onto Quinn’s wrist and flung his right arm behind his back. Addy listened to the ratcheting of handcuffs while Quinn was subdued.

  Addy noticed one of the agents was bald. Agent Jesse Long. She strode forward. “I’m Quinn’s lawyer, and I demand an explanation. You can’t arrest him without a warrant.”

  Long expanded his chest, his bulletproof jacket pushing her back. “Keep your mouth shut. He’s not being arrested. Just detained long enough that we can search him.”

  “For what?” Addy insisted.

  “It’s all in the search warrant. Jake, pat him down.”

  The agent snapped the second cuff on Quinn’s other hand.

  “Okay, you’re next,” Long said to Addy. “We’re going to need to cuff you. Policy, no exceptions.”

  “Me? For what?”

  “You’re being arrested for espionage and stealing US technology.”

  Addy couldn’t believe it. Stealing US secrets. How? She looked down at the fuel cell and the brightly shining LED. Her arrest had to be related to the catalyst. Why else were they searching Quinn?
But that didn’t make any sense. She hadn’t stolen anything. This was Quinn’s invention. Could it be that he actually stole it from the US government?

  “No, you’ve got the wrong person,” she pleaded.

  “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

  Addy stepped back until the table blocked her retreat. Quinn had been right to worry about the Patent Office stealing his idea. Her own government. She couldn’t believe they would stoop this low.

  Addy watched while the agent completed searching Quinn. They wanted the catalyst, and she couldn’t let it happen, not until she could sort this through. If it really was that valuable, if the federal government was willing to stop at nothing, she needed to protect it.

  The vial was sitting on the table, in plain sight, directly behind her. These agents would soon swoop up the fuel cell and everything else in the room. She watched the agent physically go over every inch of Quinn’s body, knowing she’d be next. If she snatched up the chemical, they’d quickly take it into custody.

  She needed a diversion.

  Abruptly, she whizzed around, stuck out her hand and flipped the switch on the fuel cell. The light flickered and went dark.

  “Are you guys crazy?” she screamed. “Do you know what would happen if you knocked this off the table while it was still on?”

  One of the agents stepped back, throwing out his arm to hold back the rest of the agents. It was enough distraction for Addy to sweep up the vial without them noticing. In the same motion, she slipped it inside Examiner Johnston’s open pack.

  “I really can’t believe you are so stupid,” Addy yelled again.

  The agent holding Quinn nodded, and the other agents converged on her. “Well, it looks like the danger is over.” With one agent on each side, they manhandled her and forced her arms behind her back. A second later, cold steel was cutting into her wrists. She was a prisoner. A search followed, and a cleanup crew carefully secured the fuel cell. With an agent on either side of her, they took her outside the building.

  The moment the sunlight struck her eyes, she could hear the clicking of camera lenses. The press had been tipped off to an important arrest. Instinctively, she lowered her head.