Chapter 8: What Garrett Pell Said
Three weeks later, I sat in a conference room on the seventh floor of a building I had never been in before, across a table from a lawyer named Diane who worked for the university's legal office, a detective named Souza from the financial crimes unit, and Garrett Pell.
Pell was younger than I had expected.
Early forties.
Good suit.
The kind of man who had learned early that confidence could substitute for competence in most rooms.
He had a lawyer too, seated beside him.
The lawyer had advised him, apparently, to express remorse.
So he did.
"I want to apologize," Pell said.
He looked at me directly, which I suspected was also the lawyer's advice.
"I approached this situation poorly.
I saw an opportunity and I pursued it in a way that caused real harm.
I'm sorry for that."
"Which part are you sorry for?" I asked.
He blinked.
"I'm sorry?"
"You approached my sister.
You told her the research wasn't protected.
You coached her on which systems to access.
You had a buyer lined up before the patent filed.
Which part of that are you sorry for?"
His lawyer put a hand on his arm.
"My client has expressed—"
"I heard what he expressed," I said.
"I'm asking him to be specific."
Diane, beside me, said nothing.
She had told me before we came in that I could ask whatever I wanted.
Pell was quiet for a moment.
The rehearsed remorse had run out.
"I told your sister things I shouldn't have told her," he said.
"I framed it in a way that made it sound acceptable.
It wasn't."
"You told her it was a gray area."
"Yes."
"You knew it wasn't."
A pause.
"Yes."
"The buyer," I said.
"The medical technology company.
Were they aware that the access was unauthorized?"
His lawyer said: "My client is not in a position to—"
"They knew," Pell said.
The lawyer closed his eyes briefly.
"They knew the patent hadn't filed," Pell continued.
"They knew the access wasn't sanctioned.
They wanted the methodology before it was protected so they could build around it without licensing.
I told them I could get it." He looked at the table.
"I couldn't.
Your security was better than I expected."
"It was better than you expected because Professor Shaw made me build it," I said.
"After your first access attempt."
Pell looked up.
"We knew it was you," I said.
"We didn't have your name yet.
But we knew someone was trying.
That's why the protocol existed.
That's why everything was archived.
That's why you're in this room."
He had nothing to say to that.
Detective Souza asked several more questions.
Pell answered them, slowly, with his lawyer interjecting less and less as the conversation went on.
By the end, the lawyer looked like a man who had arrived at a fire with a cup of water.
When it was over, Pell stood and buttoned his jacket.
He looked at me one more time.
"For what it's worth," he said, "the research is genuinely good.
What you built — it works.
That's why I wanted it."
"I know it works," I said.
"That's why I spent five years building it."
I watched him walk out.
Diane gathered her papers.
"The company has agreed to a settlement.
It includes a licensing fee — a real one, negotiated properly — and a formal acknowledgment that the access attempt occurred with their knowledge.
Their legal exposure on the criminal side is significant.
The settlement is partly how they're managing it."
"And Pell?"
"Formal charges were filed this morning.
Unauthorized computer access, attempted theft of intellectual property, conspiracy.
His cooperation today helps him, but it doesn't make it go away."
I nodded.
"There's one more thing," Diane said.
She slid a single page across the table.
"The licensing fee from the settlement.
Combined with the two hospital pilots that are now moving to contract.
The technology transfer office asked me to give you the preliminary numbers."
I looked at the page.
I looked at it for a long time.
"Is this accurate?" I said.
"It's preliminary," she said.
"But yes.
That's the range we're working with."
I set the page down.
I thought about my father saying *we supported you.* I thought about the gray tape sliding across the kitchen counter.
I thought about Lila in her silk robe, smiling over the broken frames in the sink.
I thought about five years of work in a house where no one asked how it was going.
"Thank you," I said to Diane.
I folded the page and put it in my bag.
Outside, the city was loud and ordinary and completely indifferent to everything that had just happened, which was exactly what I needed.
I called Professor Shaw.
"It's done," I said when he picked up.
"All of it?"
"All of it."
A pause.
"How do you feel?"
I thought about it honestly.
"Like I want to go home," I said.
"My actual home.
Not the house."
"Where is that?"
May you like
"I'm working on it," I said.
"But I think I know the direction."
