Collective Intelligence

by Harry Marku

you.”

  She presented a handful of bunched documents which Jankowiak accepted with a small measure of trepidation. The top sheet's header read “Non-Disclosure Agreement.”

  Jankowiak squinted. He'd faxed a signed copy of the NDA a week earlier, both the original and the returned signed copies were in his briefcase. He checked the footer, it was dated the previous day. He grunted in disapproval, the NDA had been revised, and started to read the new one. The tedious legalese was mostly incomprehensible but seemed identical to the one he'd sent over.

  “I'm sure you'll find it all in order, Dr. Jankowiak,” Ms. Cohen broke in.

  “Of course.”

  “I have your badge,” she continued. “Your first meeting with Mr. Shapner is in five minutes.”

  She held a rectangular badge with his university photograph laminated within and the word, “Visitor,” printed in bold black text beneath. In faded italics the day's date was displayed beneath.

  Jankowiak hesitated. Five minutes was too short to even thumb through a legal document.

  “I came prepared,” Jankowiak proffered the admin his previously signed NDA.

  “Legal requires a copy signed today, Dr. Jankowiak,” Ms. Cohen refused to accept them.

  “Are there changes?”

  “I wouldn't know.”

  “Why is the one I sent not acceptable?”

  “This is standard protocol. Fresh copies are distributed weekly and there wasn't time to forward you a copy.”

  Jankowiak's eyes narrowed. He had flown in early the day before, had called his office several times throughout the day, and had checked his computer multiple times to keep current on last minute developments before retiring. None of his staff had thought to mention a new NDA.

  “Of course, I was traveling.” He provided an excuse.

  “Our apologies.”

  “Understood. Accepted.”

  Jankowiak rifled through the pages until he located the signature line. The contract was of similar length. He picked up his pen.

  Cohen hovered.

  Jankowiak hesitated. Her eagerness had roused his suspicion. He flipped back to the first page and began reading in earnest.

  Cohen stepped back, shifted and fidgeted.

  Jankowiak felt his pulse quicken. It would take an intolerable amount of time to peruse the jargon.

  “Is there anything I can help with?” Cohen offered.

  “No, not at all.”

  “Your meeting...”

  “Then I mustn’t be disturbed. I don't wish to be late.” He aligned the documents—Rosetta style—and began comparing them.

  Cohen's face hardened. She decided.

  “Of course, just a moment please.” She vacated the room.

  It was on the third page that Jankowiak's suspicion was realized. A paragraph that the university's lawyer had struck out had been reinserted. His lawyer had advised that the words could be interpreted to grant GenCorp exclusive access to his gaming technique within the drug discovery sector should he simply engage in professional discussions with their scientists on their premises.

  Ms. Cohen reappeared at the conference room threshold.

  “My apologies. Mr. Shapner has been called into a meeting.”

  Jankowiak hid his anger. GenCorp's manners had diminished to rudeness. “There seems to be a misunderstanding,” he stated, pointing fingers at each copy. “This NDA contains an old revision which we agreed would not apply.”

  Cohen was prepared.

  “I don't know what was said between your team and ours. The NDA was released only yesterday, Dr. Jankowiak. It's recent.”

  “Well, then I'll strike it.” Perhaps it was a clerical oversight.

  “I'm sorry, I can't authorize that but I'm sure we can clear this up quickly. Would you like to talk to the Counselor?”

  It was exactly what he didn't want to do. Instead, he would call the university's lawyer—without Ms. Cohen being present to seek advice—and, if necessary, break off the engagement. He just needed a moment to make a phone call.

  “Yes,” Jankowiak agreed.

  “I'll be just a moment.”

  Jankowiak watched as Cohen left the room, concerned that he was making a tactical mistake by not immediately following suit. He gathered his papers, dialed the office of the University's lawyer, and determined to leave promptly.

  The call was immediately answered by her Admin. The lawyer was unavailable. She would call him ASAP.

  “Has there been any late correspondence with GenCorp?” Jankowiak asked.

  The Admin paused long enough for Jankowiak to know that she would lie.

  “No.”

  “Who is she in conference with?” Jankowiak surmised.

  This answer was quick and truthful. His Counsel was being strong armed by the university board.

  Wearily, Jankowiak gathered his materiel and stowed it in his briefcase, retaining in hand the bastardized copy as evidence of GenCorp's deceit. He ignored the intuition that there was more going on. He turned to leave but stopped short.

  Cohen had re-entered, trailing a man in an expensive tailored three-piece suit.

  “Dr. Jankowiak, I understand that you wish to see me,” the man said. “I'm Elliot Hampden.”

  “I previously faxed our agreement. The new contract is unacceptable.” Jankowiak stated without returning the introduction. There was little point in supporting the illusion that it was an oversight.

  “I'm sorry you feel that way, Dr. Jankowiak, but we are in contact with your legal representative and we have obtained her agreement. We have to protect our interests.”

  “As do I.”

  The lawyer's face twisted slightly.

  “I don't think you understand, Dr. Jankowiak. We learned yesterday that you are in possession of GenCorp trade-craft.”

  Jankowiak broke into a cold sweat.

  “I think the reverse is true, Elliot.” He said through clenched teeth.

  The lawyer smiled.

  “We have the burden of proof.”

  “Touché.” Jankowiak's smile was thin.

  “I don't think so,” Elliot said smugly. He snapped his fingers and an armed security agent strode through the door.

  “Dr. Jankowiak, will you please open your briefcase?” The security officer demanded.

  “I will not.” Jankowiak suddenly saw his folly. In his haste he had stowed the entire stack of documents, not just the altered NDA. He wasn't sure what else was in the package.

  “Dr. Jankowiak, may I remind you that you were invited here on good faith...”

  “Is that what you call it?” Jankowiak struggled to contain his irritation. His cell phone vibrated in his hand but he ignored it. “We had an agreement—”

  “Which you were already violating,” Hampden interjected.

  Jankowiak's phone stilled. “I've done nothing of the sort.” He said adamantly.

  Hampden eyes gleamed.

  Jankowiak had a sudden thought. “Perhaps you've been infringing”—his phone twitched again and this time he glanced at the display. It was a message from his Counsel. “Excuse me,” he demanded, turning toward the front window to shield himself. He sensed their eyes boring into his back.

  Jankowiak wedged the phone against his neck to free his hands. He propped his briefcase onto a thin aluminum window crosspiece and awkwardly held it up against his waist. Reflected in the thick plate glass was an apparition of Cohen and Hampden. Their heads bobbed rapidly in a hushed conference while they kept watch at him over their shoulders. The security officer was not in sight.

  Jankowiak opened the briefcase and rifled through the top stack. His phone chirped—it had bounced from the Admin's desk into the electronic ether—so he quickly thumbed through the copies.

  “Dr. Jankowiak?” A voice came through the phone. It was the University Counsel.

  “Yes,” Jankowiak pared away the top two documents, the new and the old NDAs, and set them aside.

  “I advise you to accept the a
greement.”

  “Why would you do that?” Jankowiak flipped through the next stapled packet. It was benign; his welcome letter to speak at GenCorp and his electronic response. He set it out of his way on top of the NDAs.

  “It's in your best interest.”

  “Hardly.” The third document was something he hadn't before seen, a print copy of an email from someone within GenCorp. It was addressed to his personal email address, not his University account. The sender's name was as unfamiliar as was the subject line.

  Re: A Project of Mutual Interest

  The lawyer's voice came over the receiver. “It's in the School's best interest. GenCorp is creating an endowment...”

  “Are they?” Jankowiak saw red. It would be an ugly fight. His principle project had been traded for...for what?

  “Have you cashed a check?”

  “No, it's conditional but...”

  Jankowiak tuned out the apology. Instead he read the email. The sender answered questions he hadn't asked and referred to a meeting that never took place. And with brazen disregard for GenCorp's IP, the sender had disclosed what appeared to be an internal project.

  Jankowiak was stunned. How did this get here? He wondered. How many more are there? He had to get out of GenCorp and check his accounts. His accounts... How did GenCorp...Who hacked my account?

  He muttered, “So the NDA was bait.”

  There was a pause.

  “I see.” The Counselor ended the short silence.

  “What are you going to do about it?” Jankowiak challenged.

  “It's your choice. Do the right thing.” She hung up.

  Jankowiak turned to face GenCorp's lawyer. He dropped the documents on the conference table and pushed them away. “This is a fabrication!” he charged. “I've had no contact with anyone here except Shapner. You know this.”

  “You are a man of character,” Hampden purred. “I'm sure you will do