Page 82 of Feared

“You never forget being threatened.”

Benedict consulted his notes. “Why do you characterize that as a threat?”

“Because it is. Obviously.”

Mary relaxed in her chair, since Chen was even more aggressive than she would’ve been, which was perfect.

“Mr. Chen, what did you mean by ‘disable the logins’?”

“I didn’t say it, Dietl did.”

“What did he mean by that? If you know.”

“I knowexactlywhat he meant by that, because it is what EXMS and Home Hacks started to do to dealers we were working with, the very next week. Dealers who had pushed their data to Home Hacks and EXMS were locked out of theirown information.” Chen spoke faster, and the court reporter’s fingers flew. “Suddenly, out of the blue, their logins had been disabled. They couldn’t get into their own accounts. It was corporate bullying, designed to punish dealers who were contracting with London Technologies from competing in the data integration workplace.”

Mary let Chen talk, because he was only revealing how strong he would be as a witness, which could help settlement. Meanwhile, she kept an eye on her email screen, though she hardly expected Amanda Sussman to write her back. In fact, if Amanda didn’t answer Mary’s email, it made it more likely that she was working for Machiavelli.

“Mr. Chen, how was it ‘corporate bullying’?”

“EXMS and Home Hacks were both threatened by our business model because we were empowering dealers to keep, organize, and integrate their own data at one-sixth of the cost. EXMS and Home Hacks charged dealers who subscribe $300 a month, and we charge $65. We’re cheaper, better, and fairer, and Home Hacks knew their days of price gouging were over. Gouging is corporate bullying.”

Benedict cocked his head. “Are you saying that London Technologies was attempting to drive Home Hacks out of business?”

“Not at all.”

Mary let them talk, though it was wasting time, which was the downside of a witness like Alex Chen, getting overzealous. If it didn’t end soon, she’d have to intervene.

“Mr. Chen, how is it an antitrust violation when London Technologies is being driven out of business but not when Home Hacks is being driven out of business?”

“If Home Hacks hadn’t been so grossly overcharging for its service, then it never would have had its business model jeopardized.” Chen frowned, in derision. “Furthermore, we could never put Home Hacks out of business. Home Hacks and EXMS have the lion’s share of the market, and we’re minuscule in comparison. The only business who will be driven out of the market is London Technologies. That’s why we brought this lawsuit and—”

Mary interjected, “Excuse me, I think you answered his question.”

“Oh, right,” Chen said, nodding.

Benedict kept asking follow-up questions, trying to shake Chen’s testimony, but Chen stuck to his guns and there were no more speeches. Mary listened to him pound away at Benedict and gleefully imagined what her email to Amanda Sussman had set in motion. Sussman and Machiavelli were probably on the phone right now, and Machiavelli would probably fire Amanda, now that her cover had been blown.

Mary smiled, inwardly. It was a victory, but she knew it would be short-lived because Machiavelli wouldn’t stop.

Unless she stopped him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Mary sat at her desk, eyeing the papers in frustration. Alex Chen’s deposition had ended an hour ago, but she had been in her office since then with the door closed, on a tear. On her desk in front of her, in three separate piles, were the resumes for the plaintiffs in the reverse-discrimination lawsuit against them, in addition to notes that John had taken during the interview and writing samples they had submitted. She had read everything, but kept coming up empty. She couldn’t find any connection between the three plaintiffs and Machiavelli, which confirmed what Bennie and Roger had concluded. But she just couldn’t let it go. She would’ve staked her life that the plaintiffs were proxies of Machiavelli and that he had manufactured the lawsuit. And her theory was that they must have worked for Machiavelli, either during their summers at law school or even as interns. But no dice.

Mary sipped some bottled water, trying to think what she could have missed. The waning sun streamed in the window behind her, its tarnished rays falling on the quilt that hung on her wall. Its pinks, blues, and pale greens were usually so soothing, but it was a wedding quilt with a pattern of interlocking rings, which reminded her uneasily of Anthony. He wouldprobably have preferred her to be home, but she couldn’t leave just yet. She had texted him that she would be late, needing the time to figure out what was going on with Machiavelli and how he was connected to the three plaintiffs.

Mary picked up Michael Battle’s resume, skimming it for the umpteenth time. He worked in general litigation in the legal department at Wheels-up, a private jet sharing service in Wayne. He’d graduated with honors from Villanova Law School and F & M, having graduated magna cum laude. His prior work experience was in the summer associate program at Wolf Block, a large, respected firm in the city, having nothing to do with Machiavelli. Battle’s personal interests were “hiking in Nepal,” so she doubted he had ever encountered Machiavelli on a trip. Nor was there any other geographic connection, since Battle had grown up in upper Darby, a middle-class suburb of Philadelphia.

Mary set down the resume and picked up Graham Madden’s. Madden worked in general litigation at Hamptons Holdings, LLC, a financial services company in Southampton, N.Y. He had gone to Harvard undergrad and Penn Law, where he was a Legal Writing Instructor. He had grown up in Hempstead, on Long Island, and worked summers at small firms in New York. Mary couldn’t imagine Machiavelli having any entrée there. Madden’s interest was “surfing in Montauk,” so there was no connection to Machiavelli.

Mary sighed to herself, picking up the last resume, Steve McManus, the applicant John had interviewed. McManus wasn’t from Philly, having grown up in Chicagoland, and had worked summers at Mayer Platt Brown, one of the best law firms in Chicago. His personal interest was robotics, and he worked in general litigation at AI-Intelligence, a robotics company in Cheltenham, with a headquarters in Oak Park. McManus graduated from Temple Law School with honors and the University of Michigan with a degree in engineering.

Mary set the papers down and eyed her laptop screen, but didn’t bother to search online again. She had searched on Philly and Pennsylvania Bar Associations meetings, as well as Chicago and New York, trying to see if there were any board memberships in common, or even cocktail parties, CLE conferences, or other meetings, but nothing had panned out. She had taken a stab at geographical similarity, but there was none. Machiavelli lived in a townhouse in South Philly, Battle lived in an apartment in Wayne, Madden lived in Brooklyn, and McManus lived in an apartment in Cherry Hill.

Mary eyed the laptop screen as it went black, racking her brain. She had even looked on the applicants’ social media, but there was no connection to Machiavelli, and she supposed that there could be a random way they could have met, like a train or a plane, but she had no way of knowing. And she had to admit to herself that she didn’t know why the plaintiffs would agree to front for Machiavelli, unless he was paying them a fortune, but they didn’t seem to need the money.

Her gaze fell on the notes that John had written during his interview of Steve McManus. John had taken about a paragraph’s worth, handwritten on a legal pad, and it wrenched her chest to see his characteristically neat handwriting. He had noted “careful, logical thinker,” “would impress clients,” “ease with math and numbers, could be a plus on London Technologies,” and “serious-minded.” None of it gave Mary any clues as to how McManus could be connected to Machiavelli, and it made her sad all over again to think that John was gone.

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