She shook her head and let the blinds fall shut. She needed lunch. Maybe she'd ask Alex. She was curious if he'd heard anything else about Hilzoy. And he looked like he could use a little company.
He was an attractive guy, and she wondered about him sometimes. But he'd probably make partner soon, and if she were involved with him at that point they'd have to break it off. She chuckled. Yeah, he was right up her alley. Another good-looking, all-American guy with the right kind of résumé and an automatic expiration date. Perfect.
Anyway, he didn't seem interested, although she had to admit that was part of the attraction. She was used to men wanting her. They weren't very good at concealing it, and most didn't even try. It was funny, too, because she'd been a strange-looking kid, with widely set eyes and lips way too full for her face, and her features hadn't come together until late in high school. She was grateful for that. If she'd been born beautiful, it would be like being born rich. Everything would have been too easy. As it was, her looks always felt like an improbable, unexpected gift, something she'd happened across by accident, not something she'd been granted by right.
It was ridiculous, really, that she would be interested in the one guy in the firm who seemed not to be interested in her. But he had qualities she liked. He was good to work with, for one. He always explained things clearly, and he wasn't intimidated by her technical knowledge, unlike various other associates she'd worked with. And he was certainly serious. Even too serious-she saw him in his office whenever she came in early or left late, and he didn't seem to have much of a life outside the firm. She thought she detected an odd sort of… sadness behind the seriousness, and it intrigued her. She imagined how she might respond if he made a move, then laughed at the thought. He wasn't interested, and that was probably for the best.
But no harm in just asking him about lunch. She was going out anyway, she would just check in about Hilzoy and then mention that she was going to grab a bite, maybe at Straits Café, the Singaporean place, and if he was hungry…
She walked down the corridor to his office and poked her head in, but he wasn't there. His secretary, Alisa, saw her and said, “He had to go to the police station.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows. “The police station? Is it about Hilzoy?”
Alisa shook her head. “He didn't say.”
Sarah nodded and said, “He never does, does he?”
She walked off, thinking maybe she would just grab something from the firm cafeteria. Yeah, that was probably for the best.
9 SADLY ETERNAL
Alex got to the office at six o'clock the next morning. He hadn't slept well, but at least he'd come up with a course of action. The first step was to check in with the Patent and Trademark Office. The group director of Technology Center 2130-the PTO examination group responsible for computer cryptography and security-was a Stanford grad named Hank Shiffman, whom Alex had been friendly with when they were students. Having a friend like Hank inside was huge-he was smart enough to really get what Obsidian was about, and he knew all the bizarre inner workings of the patent office, too. Hank and 2130 hadn't officially received the application yet, but Hank had been keeping Alex unofficially apprised of its progress since it had first arrived at the Office of Initial Patent Examination. The last Alex had heard, the application had been forwarded to the Department of Defense for national security review. A security review was routine for an invention dealing with cryptography, and unless the DoD decided to issue a secrecy order-a huge pain in the neck but, thank God, highly unlikely-the application would soon pass muster and be assigned to a formal examiner in Hank's group.
It was nine o'clock in Virginia, where the PTO was located. Alex called Hank and got his voice mail.
Damn. Hank was always at his desk early. Well, maybe he was in the bathroom or something.
The message said to press zero to speak to an operator. Alex did. A moment later, a woman asked, “How may I direct your call?”
“I'm trying to reach Hank Shiffman.”
There was a pause. The woman said, “Ah, could you hold on for just a moment?”
Alex waited, wondering why the woman had sounded so uncertain about something so mundane.
A moment later, another woman's voice came on, throatier than the first, the tone more businesslike. “Hello, this is Director Jane Hamsher, Computer Architecture, Software, and Information Security. May I ask to whom I'm speaking?”
Alex thought for a moment. The information Hank had been feeding him was back-channel. He didn't want to create a problem for his friend.
“This is Alex Treven,” he said. “I'm a friend of Hank's from Stanford.”
There was a pause, then the woman said, “I see. Then I'm sorry to be the one to tell you that Hank passed away yesterday.”
Alex had one long moment during which he was certain he had heard wrong. He replayed the woman's words in his head, trying to arrive at a construction that made sense. Nothing did.
Finally he managed to blurt out, “What… what happened? How?”
“Apparently, it was a heart attack.”
Alex thought of Hank, a vegetarian and a demon on the squash court. “But… Hank was totally healthy. I mean, I don't think I've ever known anyone that healthy.”
“I know, it's been quite a shock to all of us. It seems it was something congenital, but they're still trying to work it out. We ‘re all going to miss Hank. He was a good man and very capable.”
She was easing away. Alex thought, Well, nothing to protect him from if he's dead, and said, “The thing is, Hank was… advising me on a cryptography application on behalf of a client. I wonder if there's someone else there who could give me an update?”
There was a pause. “Hank was the examiner?” the woman asked, her tone doubtful.
“No, it hadn't been assigned to a group yet. As far as I know, it's still at OIPE, and subject to Defense Department review-”
“Well, as soon as it's cleared the review, OIPE will assign it to a technology group, probably 2130 from your description. We'll be in touch at that point.”
Damn, not quite the sympathetic reaction he'd been hoping a bereaved friend would rate. “Right,” Alex said. “Thank you.”
“Not at all. And again, my condolences.”
He hung up. Time for a Plan B. Trouble was, with Hilzoy dead, he was already at Plan B. And it didn't seem to be going well.
First Hilzoy, then Hank. Unbelievable. It was like Obsidian was cursed.
He thought about what to do next. He still needed to find out who stood to inherit the rights to the patent if-when-it was issued. Also to roll up his sleeves and thoroughly assess the technology-the benefits, the limitations, all possible applications in various potential markets. Up until now, Hilzoy had been the best pitchman for Obsidian as something you could build a company around. With Hilzoy gone, Alex would need to be able to talk that talk.