Chapter 24 BLUE PRINT THEFT (I)
Chapter 24 BLUE PRINT THEFT (I)
HAYLEY
I had a very terrible gut feeling about this entire situation, and that feeling is confirmed when HR at The DaSilva Towers confirm that the receptionist I spoke to yesterday does not work for them.
“I’m telling you, she had long auburn hair and hazel eyes. Her name tag read Lorine.” I argue.
“Well, we do not have any Lorine on our payroll, Mrs. DaSilva. I’m sorry.”
I’m grasping at straws now, fighting hard to establish my case when everyone already thinks I’m a liar.
“But…”
“That’s enough, Hayley!” Aunt Susan snaps. “You’ve successfully wasted our time with all your lies.
I know you hate my nephew, but selling off his hard work to someone else like it meant nothing? That’s low, even for you.”
Edward leans against the windows of his office, staring at me with an unreadable expression.
I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, scream in his face that he should say something.
“I have never been in contact with anyone from the BellaMonte Group.” I say boldly, “I will not let any of you intimidate me into accepting a crime I did not commit.”
“Are you sure?” Edward asks quietly. “Your laptops and every gadget you own are currently being given a thorough search. Are you sure we will not find anything that implicates you?”
I lift my chin, my eyes blazing with defiance.
“One hundred percent.”
The next thirty minutes fly past in a frenzy. DaSilva Automobiles is in chaos. I watch with a sinking feeling as staff rush in and out, wielding documents and folders like weapons, while Edward communicates with four different people on four different phone calls all at the same time.
Moments later, three uniformed detectives walk into the office and Edward sends all the staff outside, leaving just Aunt Susan and Victoria behind.
Finally, my moment of reckoning.
I’m sure they found nothing on my computers. I know I’m innocent.
“Officer Wilder,” Edward begins, “what do you have for me?”
Wilder, a short, stubby man with salt and pepper hair carefully places his laptop on the table, turning the screen to face his small audience.
“After careful investigation, we found out that Mrs. DaSilva’s credentials were used to extract confidential files from Miss Victoria’s computer.”
I freeze, my stomach turning to ice.
The room suddenly feels ten times smaller, like the weight of the entire world is sitting in my chest.
Slowly, I rise to my feet, convinced that I’m hearing things.
“What did you say?”
“We have more than enough evidence to prove our claims,” the officer continues. “Mrs. DaSilva’s IP address is recorded to have logged into Miss Victoria's computer at exactly 4:30 PM yesterday.
Her IP address specifically accessed the blueprint folder and transferred it to a flash drive linked to a BellaMonte server.”
My heart is pounding so fast, I can barely breathe. Glancing at the evidence on his computer, the detective is absolutely right.
My IP address did log into Victoria’s computer and transfer those files.
But there’s one tiny problem. I didn’t do it. It sure as hell wasn’t me.
The room is awfully silent, but the accusation in everyone’s eyes is so loud, I can literally hear it ring in my brain.
Edward finally looks at me, but the anger in his eyes is gone, replaced with plain old disappointment. And somehow, that is even worse.
It finally dawns on me that it’s my word against a mountain of fabricated lies.
Someone is trying to frame me. But I did not come this far to end up in jail.
No fucking thank you.
Stiffening my spine, I give the detective a resolute smile.
“May I use your computer?”
“Good Lord, haven’t you caused enough damage?!” Aunt Susan snarls. “What are you up to now?”
Not bothering to grace her yapping with a response, I grab the detective’s computer and get to work.
On the outside, I’m the spitting image of calm and controlled. But on the inside, I’m a raging mess of nerves.
“I did not sell data to BellaMonte, and I’m happy to prove it.”
Eyes bore into me from all directions as my fingers fly over the keys. To any other person, the screen is a confusing jumble of words, numbers and codes. To me, it’s my safe place. My forté.
Finally, the sequence I was searching for appears and I lean back, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Judging from the transfer log, this wasn’t just any kind of theft. It was a staged exfiltration.”
The detective leans closer,
“Explain.”
“Gladly.” I enlarge the data signature; “take a very close look at the compression algorithm. It’s triple-layer masked. I don’t use that.”
Aunt Susan scoffs.
“Now you’re sprouting off a bunch of nonsense to cover up for yourself. How are we certain that you didn’t do it?”
“Because I taught the person who did it.”
Shocked silence settles over the room as everyone stares at me like I just descended from the moon.
“Don’t worry, I’ll explain..."