Richard's attorney submitted a 40-page response document to the board last night at 11:15. Have you read it? Daniel said all 40 pages twice. What's the argument? Three threads.
First, that the modifications to the RS7 system were authorized optimizations within the director's purview. Second, that Daniel's employment contract from 3 years ago grants full IP ownership to Blackwood, which Richard argues means any work Daniel did is company property, and Richard's stewardship of it was legitimate. She paused. Third, and this is the one you need to be prepared for. They're arguing that the failure of yesterday's demonstration was not caused by Richard's modifications, but by deterioration in the base system that occurred during the maintenance period.
Under Daniel's watch, Daniel stopped walking. He turned to look at her. She met his gaze directly. They're saying the system degraded because of inadequate maintenance. And they're pointing to Daniel's role as maintenance technician as the basis for the claim.
Daniel absorbed this. He turned it over. He looked at the shape of it, the specific deliberate cruelty of using his demotion as the weapon, taking the 3 years he'd spent keeping their system alive and reframing them as 3 years of negligence. He said Patterson has the validation logs from yesterday. The base system architecture was intact.
The only modifications were Richards. It's in the diagnostic record. I know, Clare said. Victoria knows. The question is whether the board is going to spend this meeting listening to evidence or listening to politics.
Which do you think it'll be? Clare considered for a moment. I think it depends on what's in the room when the meeting starts. They reached the boardroom door. Daniel put his hand on the handle.
He said, "Thank you, Claire, for the preservation hold yesterday, for the contract review, for all of it." She said, "I just did my job." He looked at her. So did I. For 3 years in a maintenance uniform, and it took until yesterday for anyone to call it that. She was quiet for a moment. Then it shouldn't have taken that long.
"No," he said. "It shouldn't have." He opened the door and walked in. The boardroom was long and still. Seven seats around the table. Six occupied one screen at the far end showing Marcus Webb in a London hotel room jacket and tie, his face alert and watchful.