Chasing Hindy

by Darin Gibby

  “Because?”

  “I didn’t think they had a right to it, not since the federal government was trying to steal it.”

  “Or so you thought.”

  “I know,” Addy said slapping down the papers she’d obtained from the Freedom of Information Act. “They call it project Protect America.”

  Perry reached out to inspect the documents. Addy explained how Janice had submitted a request on her behalf, and now they were certain the DOE was intentionally filtering out Quinn’s applications.

  “This is good—something to help us win public opinion. Now, tell me what you know about the catalyst.”

  She explained how she hid it in the examiner’s gym bag, her run in-with the counterfeit security detail and her dash to the woods.

  “You need to be more careful,” he said. “Do you think the vial is still in his gym bag?”

  “Could be, but I have no idea where that is.”

  “In his office?”

  “It’s a possibility. But I can’t exactly hang out and wait for him anymore. Now that I got caught in Johnston’s car, somebody is going to suspect Johnston has the catalyst. I don’t know how I can get inside the Patent Office. But if I don’t, somebody else will. I can’t wait.”

  Perry scratched his head. “I do have an idea,” he finally said. He spun in his chair and banged on his keyboard. A spreadsheet appeared on the screen. “Bingo, the firm has four other cases with Daniel Johnston. I can call him tomorrow to see if he’ll let me visit him to discuss one of the applications.”

  Addy’s eyes lightened. “Brilliant. You can see if he’s got the gym bag. And if he does, you’re going to need to find a way to look inside. Just look for a vial with a silvery grey powder, almost like graphite.”

  Perry frowned. “And how am I going to do that?”

  “You’re creative. Find a way.”

  Perry’s scowl quickly changed to a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “One more thing,” Addy said. “I’m worried about what we’re going to do when we get the catalyst.”

  Evidently lost in thought about how he was going to steal a container full of chemicals from the Patent Office, Perry wandered over to the one wall of his office, blankly staring at the display of sports memorabilia, including a signed jersey from Joe Montana.

  He folded one arm and stroked his chin with his free hand. “Tell me what you’re thinking. What’s bothering you?”

  “Our whole premise. The reason we need the catalyst is to show the world the world-changing solution that’s being concealed from them—so that the world will go crazy when they realize that they could all be driving cars that run on water and demand I be set free. Remember?”

  “Of course,” he said, narrowing his gaze on the red and gold jersey.

  “To do that, we’re going to need to publicize it in a big way,” she said. “The way I see it, I’ve got one shot to plead my case to the world. If that doesn’t work, I’m going to look really guilty.

  “Think about it. I stand accused of hacking into the Patent Office database and stealing government secrets for some phenomenal energy technology. When I get caught red-handed, I find a way to get my grubby hands on a sample, then try to prove my innocence by shouting out to the world I’ve got an invention that could be really cool, but I can’t actually show them how cool it is.” She paused for breath.

  “What I mean is this—unless people can see this is a really, really big deal, they’re not going to come to my defense. That’s what I’m worried about.”

  “You need something like a Cuban missile crisis or a tsunami.”

  Addy frowned.

  “Seriously,” Perry said moving on to stare at a picture of the seventeenth green on Pebble Beach. “I’ve been worried about the same thing. We need something that not only dramatically demonstrates the technology to the world, but also reveals in a simplified way how you are the scapegoat—a pretty little patent attorney who got caught between powerful forces who are so caught up with their own greedy interests that nobody gets one of these cars.”

  Addy bristled. He did it again. “Pretty little patent attorney?”

  “If that’s what it takes to get the message out.”

  Addy shook her head, realizing this wasn’t the time to put Perry in his place. “At least you see my point. Any ideas?”

  “I thought about using the internet, but unless you already have traffic coming to a well-known website, just posting a plea isn’t going to reach many people. Getting it to go viral is the key.”

  “Agreed. We’ll have the same problem if we simply throw out a press release or pitch the story to the local media. The national news might be good, but I doubt they would want to touch it. Even if they did, I doubt a single run on the nightly news would have the impact we’re going to need.”

  “Plus, you need to control the content. If you leave it to the media, they’ll feel obligated to at least pretend to present both sides, and your message is going to get garbled, if not lost.”

  Addy leaned back and stared blankly at the wall where Perry was still admiring his collection. He’d reached the corner of his office, where a stand held an encased football signed by Steve Young.

  “What we need is a Super Bowl commercial,” she finally said in desperation. It seemed that every conversation in Silicon Valley eventually turned to the subject of the weekend’s upcoming events.

  “Are you serious?”

  “No. I mean—well, I might be. Millions watch the Super Bowl every year, all over the world. You can’t get better exposure than that.”

  “Got a few million dollars?” Perry said.

  Addy frowned. “No, but you know what would be really cool? What if I got Hindy back, and I had a fuel cell like the one Quinn showed to the examiner. We could pop out Hindy’s fuel cell and replace it with Quinn’s. I could drive Hindy right onto the fifty-yard line. Now that would be dramatic.”

  Perry let his arms drop to his side. “But we don’t have a slush fund with millions sitting in it, we don’t have Hindy, we don’t have a catalyst—and we don’t have Quinn’s fuel cell. For that matter, we don’t even know if FOX has a slot available. Super Bowl Sunday is this weekend. That’s only two days away. I’m sure these things are planned out months, if not years, in advance. Logistically, it’s impossible.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Addy persisted. “I read an article about how the network sometimes holds some Super Bowl ad slots in case of last-minute interest. And, Super Bowl commercials are so expensive that some years not all of them sell out, forcing the network to dump the empty slots just before the game. You have to admit, it would be pretty cool—a live commercial with me driving Hindy.”

  “It’s not going to happen. Let’s get practical.”

  “But if I could get the catalyst by tomorrow. Theoretically, we still have enough time.”

  Perry shook his head. Seeing this, Addy frowned. Perry breathed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell you what, let’s start with getting the catalyst. And if it will make you feel better, I’ll put some feelers out about a commercial.”

  “Deal,” Addy said. “Why don’t you call Examiner Johnston right now?”

  Perry stole a glance at his desk clock. “He’s not going to be there. It’s Friday night, and you already know he’s been out running.”

  “Then leave a message.”

  Perry reluctantly took up his phone and dialed the number, switching to speakerphone mode. Addy watched the phone intently and waited for Johnston to answer. The call went straight to voice mail. Perry left a message about the case, asking if he could have a meeting to discuss the fuel cell technology in the application, and requested that the examiner call his cell phone.

  Perry hung up and shrugged. “I tried.”

  Addy reached over and putted his arm. “Thanks. Let me know when he calls back. I’m going to shower and get some dinner. And I think I’m going to give your car back tomorrow.”

  “You
were followed to San Antonio,” Perry surmised.

  Addy nodded. “I’m pretty sure your hybrid is bugged. I’m going to rent a car if that’s okay with you.”

  “I’m worried about you. Sometimes I wonder if we’re doing the right thing.”

  “Don’t give up on me now,” Addy said. “Once I’m in, I’m all in. I’m going to find that catalyst and give Quinn the butt-kicking he deserves.”

  Her car had barely left the Wyckoff parking garage when Perry’s cell phone rang. Examiner Johnston was returning his call.

  28

  WITH HIS SECURE government job and plenty of seniority, Jesse Long rarely worked weekends. Now, as a new father, he loathed the thought of giving up a Saturday morning, especially after getting up twice to help his wife with the baby feedings. But Molly Peele insisted on an emergency meeting. The Justice Department had made a break in the case.

  Long met her at a local diner in San Jose, avoiding any restaurant near Levi’s® Stadium.

  Peele was wearing baggy sweat pants and a matching hoodie. Long thought she looked like a different person compared to the one he was used to seeing in a business suit.

  “Before we start, give me any updates,” Peele said staring at the assortment of egg dishes on the menu.

  “Addy’s been spending a lot of time with her former partner,” Long said casually.

  “Going back to the firm?”

  “I dunno, but yesterday I caught her tailing Examiner Johnston. She’s not as innocent as she likes to pretend.”

  Peele lowered her menu and peered over her reading classes.

  “That’s right, following him just like she was an FBI agent. Appears that Johnston is an avid runner. She followed him to Rancho San Antonio and sneaked into his car when he went out for a late evening dash. But what’s more interesting is that there were at least two other vehicles following her, and one of them had a fake insignia on the door.”

  “You could have pulled them over.”

  “I could have, but then I’d blow my cover.”

  Peele took a sip of her orange juice and nodded. “I wonder why they’re all following this examiner. Really strange. Perhaps he knows about the catalyst.”

  “Makes sense. It was all spelled out in Quinn’s patent application. It would fetch quite a price on the open market.”

  “Could have been WTG,” Peele suggested.

  “At this point, it could have been anyone.”

  “Not anyone,” Peele said. “I’ve gone another lead for you. We found some information on our tattooed terrorist.”

  “Really?”

  “His real name is Shaun Ritter, but he goes by Azhar Nejem.”

  “How’d you find him?”

  “Wasn’t too hard once we figured out his faux paus. You don’t get a tattoo like that and keep it secret. Anyway, he grew up in Oakland. He’s one of these self-proclaimed terrorists. He went to Syria for military training, and that’s probably where he got himself branded.”

  “If he’s received that kind of training, he’s got to be extremely dangerous. Those folks like to behead people. Who’s supporting him?”

  “That’s where it gets interesting. You’d assume some radical Muslim group who doesn’t like any technology that could reduce the demand for oil, but that may not be the case.”

  “You’ve piqued my interest.”

  “We discovered that he’s been hanging out with Jerry Wilcox. We have you to thank for that one.” She reached down and unsnapped her purse, then placed a photograph on the table. “We enhanced the photos taken at the crime scene with Hindy. It’s a little bit blurry, but you can make out his face next to the red Camry.”

  Long scooped up the glossy image and squinted. A broad grin crept across his face when he made the identification.

  “So Wilcox is hanging out with the same guy who attempted to torch Addy’s car and then cracked her rib.”

  “The odds are too great for it to be a coincidence. Even more so, because Quinn Moon was also there and pulled Addy away from the wreckage.”

  Long tapped the corner of the photo on the table. “The common thread appears to be the technology WTG is developing. Wilcox is convinced that Quinn stole it.”

  “Which is why we got involved—and why we arrested Addy for lifting the DOE’s technology from the patent office. But the tie to Shaun Ritter is unclear.”

  “That’s what you’re going to find out. Sorry to ruin your weekend, but I managed to secure a warrant to search Ritter’s apartment. He’s still living in Oakland. It’s got to be executed today.”

  Driving to the East Bay was the last thing he wanted to do on his day off. “Part of the job,” Long said, handing her back the photo.

  “Remember that we’re under pressure to keep all this from exploding onto some front page until the technology can be sorted out and scientifically proven. Please don’t shoot the place up. Addy’s arrest and the missing catalyst haven’t made my job any easier.”

  “Understood,” Long said. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to skip breakfast and get to work. With any luck, I’ll be home in time to make dinner.”

  “Sorry about the baby’s earache. Welcome to a parent’s life. I’ve already done my stint, twice.”

  29

  TO PERRY’S SURPRISE, Examiner Johnston was very eager to grant his request for an interview, even on a Saturday morning. In nearly thirty years of practicing patent law, he could remember only two other times when an examiner was willing to give up a weekend to discuss a case. Johnston said he could meet after his morning grocery run. Like nearly everyone else, his Sunday was going to be spent with a few other examiners watching the game.

  Perry went to the office early, reviewing the case, and wracking his brain for an excuse to get Johnston out of his office so he could search his gym bag. The easiest way was to ask the examiner to print something from his computer, forcing Johnston to walk down the hall to the print center.

  It didn’t take long to drive from Palo Alto to San Jose, but he couldn’t afford to be late. After passing through security, Perry was greeted by the red-haired examiner, who was sporting a two-day beard of bright orange whiskers.

  “Too bad the 49ers aren’t playing. Got my costume on my face,” he said, rubbing his cheeks. “We’re going to meet in my office if that’s okay. I assume we don’t need a conference room.”

  “Perfect,” Perry said with a sigh of relief. “No demonstrations today.”

  Johnston directed Perry down a hallway. As they passed down the corridor, Perry noticed most of the offices were empty and the lights were out. It was nothing like his own firm on a Saturday morning.

  “You heard about the last one?” Johnston asked.

  Perry paused.

  “My last interview. Addy used to work for you.”

  Perry grinned. “She did work for me, and I think every patent attorney in America knows by now. Fortunately, I think this interview will have a little less drama.”

  They reached his office, and Johnston motioned for Perry to be seated. While Perry unlatched his briefcase, he surveyed the area. The room was small, nearly the size of a cubicle. It had a window on the far wall, and a small desk with a computer screen on it that separated the guest chair from Johnston’s workspace. To his right, a lone bookshelf took up half the side wall. It was filled with volumes of patent treatises and technology journals on fuel cells. The opposite wall was bare except for several hooks from which hung a colorful assortment of medals.

  “Marathoner?” Perry asked, nodding at the awards.

  “Yeah, even a few ultras. Do you run?”

  “Used to, but the knees gave out. Just swim a few days a week to keep in shape.”

  “I can’t swim, never could. That’s why I run.”

  Perry looked outside at the low-hanging clouds. “You look Irish. Probably run in any weather.”

  “No, I’m not that tough. Usually hit the treadmill if it’s nasty outside.”

  “Ultra Fitness?”


  Johnston’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

  “One of our clerks is a gym rat. He says Ultra has the nicest treadmills in the Valley.”

  “That’s true. Will probably be going there today.”

  “He said he loves the executive locker room. He even has his own locker.”

  “Yeah, that part is nice.”

  Perry wondered whether Johnston kept his gym bag there. So far, he hadn’t been able to locate anything red other than Johnston’s curly mop of hair.

  “Well, enough about that. Should we talk about the case?” Perry asked.

  “I already looked at it. My rejection isn’t very good. I’m going to allow the case.”

  That almost never happened. Most examiners dug in their heels and rarely overturned themselves, and then only after a long, drawn-out battle. And it meant the interview was over. Perry needed time in this office alone. It didn’t look like that was going to happen. He quickly rescanned the small room. No red bag.

  “I’m sure my client will be thrilled,” Perry stammered. “Are you sure there aren’t any other issues we need to go over?”

  “No,” Johnston said. “I’m allowing the case.”

  “I guess that’s it, then,” Perry said. He stood to leave, hoping his height would give him another vantage point and maybe reveal the bag’s location.

  The examiner raised his hand and motioned him to sit. “Before you go, can I raise a personal matter?”

  Perry cocked his head. “Sure.”

  “I need to ask you a few questions . . . about Addy.”

  So that was why Johnston was so eager to meet, Perry thought.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’m still wondering why was she arrested.”

  “It’s been in all the papers.”

  “I understand what’s been reported about her stealing national secrets, but I don’t think that is the real reason.”

  Perry hesitated. “What makes you think that?”

  “Can we talk off the record?”

  “Certainly.”