by Harry Marku
working world she could survive on a smile and a half-day's effort.
“I've been on the phone all morning with our Principal Investor,” Ryan's face was grim. “He's agreed to continue funding for the near term.”
“Oh.” Her face was blank.
“For how long?” An older voice, perhaps a scientist's, carried through from the back of the crowded room.
“Until he's certain that we can continue Dr. Jankowiak's work.” Ryan instantly regretted his mistake. The room nearly erupted.
“Why can't we?” This came loudly from a salesman.
“I think we can,” Ryan assured. “Some of Dr. Jankowiak's earlier work was licensed from the University directly through him to CI. I've had preliminary talks with the University's legal office and it seems a formality to transfer those licenses entirely to the company.”
He paused and plunged, “But with his death there could be a bidding war...“
“We can't fight Big Pharma. We can't fight GenCorp.” Voices babbled throughout the room.
“If Dr. Jankowiak's other beneficiaries agree we won't have to.” Ryan remained calm. “I think we can make that happen. We're all shareholders in CI.”
“We're not all vested.”
“Of course,” Ryan agreed. “Effective immediately that is changed. We all have a vested share in CI. We're all owners, and those who are capable of staying will share in the rewards. Those who need to leave will do so and still be fully vested up to the date of their departure.”
“What about ERISA?” Asked HR.
“Across the board equity sharing for present personnel.” Ryan set his jaw. “From top to bottom.”
“But what about new hires?”
Ryan glared. “CI takes care of its own.”
The HR representative wisely held her tongue.
“Do we have the legal right to continue to develop on all the patents?” That was from a principal engineer.
“I believe we do,” Ryan smiled. “The balance of CI's patents are shared among us all. Some may be challenged in a court of law but our legal counsel assures us that precedent is in our favor. The real challenge that lies ahead ahead—is continued funding without our founder—that's the risk that we who choose to remain must embark upon.”
Year 18
...On Deck
“We have a new challenge,” CI's Lead Counsel informed Ryan.
“Infringement?” Ryan asked.
“No, a territorial claim of joint ownership.”
He produced a docket of legal papers.
“This is from GenCorp.”
“Again?”
“Again.”
“What do they want this time?”
“In short, they propose a preexisting intent to enter into joint development with Jankowiak's corporate identity.”
“He worked at the University at the time. He couldn't make that agreement,” Ryan scoffed.
“They contend he already had incubated a clandestine project apart from the university and that when he negotiated with them he represented the start-up not his research group.”
“They're saying he signed on behalf of CI before CI was formed? That's ludicrous. ”
“Of course it is. Unfortunately, if they had access to all his personal data and records like he suspected, they would be able to construct a history that favors their assertion.”
“Documented?”
“Of course.”
“Did they?” Ryan frowned.
“It reads like Jankowiak.”
“But CI didn't incorporate until much later. The dates prove that.”
“They argue a handshake deal existed for whatever Jankowiak was planning.”
“He wasn't planning anything at that time. I know. I worked with him daily.”
“It's not what you know, Ryan. It's what can be proved and disproved.”
“Isn't this straight out fraud?” Ryan asked.
“They don't intend to go to court. They want us to bleed and capitulate.”
Ryan got it. “We lack the capital to defend ourselves indefinitely. What do you propose?”
“Not to cave in.” The lawyer counseled.
“Of course, but what are our legal options?”
“Several, but there may be—a more elegant—way. Do you still have your contacts at the Lab?'
“You mean Pawluk?”
“Yes, him. Scuttlebutt says that GenCorp has pinged the government's espionage radar from their intellectual losses. Perhaps he should be warned?”
“Of what?”
“You worked with Pawluk at the time Jankowiak fought GenCorp, right?”
“It was a bit later.”
“Even so, the IP you developed for Pawluk was an extension of Jankowiak's work. By making these assertions, GenCorp may have overstepped their intent.”
“And Pawluk will care?”
“He might see it as a matter of national security.”
“I see. Anything else?”
“It would help establish that Jankowiak had no intention of working with GenCorp.” The lawyer cleared his throat in emphasis.
“Yes,” Ryan permitted.
“We could go through Jankowiak's files again. To read with this kind of authenticity,” he referred to the documents, “it has to be 'cut and paste.' There must be source files. We'd learn the extent to which Jankowiak was hacked.”
“That would be valuable,” Ryan agreed.
The lawyer was encouraged. “Perhaps we should hire a PI. With the University's assistance we might...”
“We need to tread lightly.” Ryan admonished. “There are landmines with some of the faculty in his old department. For now you concentrate on GenCorp.”
“Of course,” The lawyer knew all about the disgruntled faculty that were once Jankowiak's colleagues. “I've prepared a letter countering GenCorp's claims. I'll go over it with a legal consultant this morning and then I'll present it you this afternoon.”
“Agreed. Submit all the consultant's charges promptly.”
“Will do. About a PI?”
“I'll give it some consideration. In the meantime, I'll talk to Pawluk.”
...Abandon Ship
Ryan stood atop a cobblestone veranda, tersely barking into his cell phone at his Admin. Wisely, she was buffered by the distance between her agitated boss and her desk at CI.
As Ryan tuned out the thousand legal dramas in the foreground promenade that were unfolding in parallel with his own, the Admin could hear the downtown bustle of sirens and horns and was privy to the angry chatter of taxis that jockeyed for position and fares from the courthouse traffic.
“I didn't hear you, Sir,” she said, still wincing after a passing driver wailed long on his horn.
“What do you mean, he left an hour ago?” Ryan questioned. “I've not seen him. Have you not heard from him since?”
“No.”
“Is there a traffic problem?”
“None that I'm aware of. I'm looking at the traffic website right now.”
“Then continue to try to reach him.” Ryan ordered. “Call him. Text him. Page him. Copy me on each. If he doesn't contact you in the next ten minutes, hone in on his cellular GPS and let me know where he is.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks.” Ryan hung up.
CI's legal showdown with GenCorp was scheduled to begin within the hour and his Legal Counsel was AWOL. Ryan paced the veranda again—this time as much in frustration as with impatience.
A steady stream of people mounted and dismounted the steps beneath him, leaving him in their wake. He caught snippets of their equally tense conversations, which on any other day might have been interesting—but not today. Nothing could breach the battlement of his concerns.
His phone vibrated in his hand. It was his Admin.
“Ryan.” He answered.
“I've got some news.” She said. “He's at GenCorp.”
“What's he doing there?” Ryan thought aloud.
“Just thought
I'd let you know.” She sidestepped his question.
“Of course.” Ryan replied. “Thanks for the update. Keep on him.”
“Yes, Sir.” She hung up.
Ryan immediately texted his Senior Counsel.
Know U R at GenCorp. Update?
Ryan paced, the phone tightly grasped in his palm, awaiting the reply. He was losing his composure and he knew it but he couldn't quell the obvious questions. What was his lawyer doing behind enemy lines? Had his Counselor been bought?
Ryan stewed; his thoughts were conflicted. The lawyer had been with CI at its inception and had successfully navigated many serious challenges to the company's solvency: he'd managed the transfer of IP following Jankowiak's untimely death; he'd secured VC funding; he'd litigated the suits of infringement; he owned a small fortune in shares.
More so, the battle with GenCorp was intensely personal to the lawyer. He'd several times expressed his concern that Jankowiak's death was suspicious, even arguing with Ryan to fund a private investigation. He fought this suit with personal affront.
Ryan had not committed cash to a vendetta. Like his predecessor, though his reasons differed, he had shied from a clash with GenCorp. He now wondered if he had done the right thing.
Ryan felt the phone vibrate an instant before it chimed. He stopped pacing. It was from his lawyer.
Find Hampden.
The message irked Ryan. He needed answers, not a geocache challenge from a subordinate. Elliot Hampden was GenCorp's VP of Legal Affairs.
Report. He demanded.
Elliot Hampden had played a pivotal role in the judicial assault on Jankowiak. Ryan detested Hampden.
The return text was prompt.
Find him, please.
Ryan fumed indulgently as he slowly acquiesced to seek out Hampden. It was considerably more proactive than petulant pacing and it was obvious that his attorney was muzzled by circumstance.
He strode across the cobblestone and stepped through dark-stained walnut doors onto a marble foyer.
His phone vibrated. It was his
