“At the end of the breakout session, we ran into one another at the coffee station set up outside the main room.”
“And did you have a conversation with Mr. Dietl at that time?”
Chen frowned. “It wasn’t a conversation. It was a threat.”
Mary smiled inwardly, but said nothing. She hadn’t had to rehearse Chen for that line earlier, because he was dying to get it on the record. Dietl’s statement was a critical proof of their case, showing that EXMS and Home Hacks intended to put London Technologies out of business.
“Was anyone else present for that, er, discussion?”
“No.”
Benedict consulted his notes. “Before we go forward, how many people were at that breakout session, would you say?”
“If you know,” Mary interjected, just to remind Chen that they were entering enemy territory.
“I happen to know it was about 120.”
Benedict nodded, pursing his lips, which wrinkled deeply at the corners. “How is it that you came to be speaking alone with Mr. Dietl, in the crowd of 120 people? If you know.”
“I was looking for green tea and so was he. It wasn’t on the regular coffee setup, only on the one that was out-of-the-way.”
“How long was your conversation, er, discussion with Mr. Dietl?”
“Approximately two minutes.”
“And what was its substance?”
“You mean what was the threat he made to me?”
“Yes, your words.”
Chen straightened in his chair. “Mr. Dietl said, and I quote, ‘If you keep undercutting us in the subscription market, we’ll disable the logins of any dealer who works with you. We’ll cut you off at the knees.’”
Mary kept on her professional mask, though she was cheering inwardly. Chen’s testimony had the absolute ring of truth, and he would be a great witness if the case ever went to trial.
Benedict’s eyelids fluttered behind his bifocals. “Mr. Chen, do you remember that he said those words exactly?”
“Yes I do.”
“How do you remember that, though it occurred so many years ago?”
“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 know exactly what 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 their own 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 would probably 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.