Her eyes skimmed the message and she let out a cry of distress.
"What's wrong?" Marise asked immediately.
Kathleen sat up straighter. "They said thank you for my application… but that a patent had already been submitted."
"Already submitted? By whom?"
Kathleen didn’t answer. Her fingers flew over the screen, logging in to her secure research archive. When she pulled up the listing, her worst fear was confirmed. The application on file contained not only the summary she'd submitted, but the full version—complete with the extra equations, the proprietary modifications she’d kept out of the paper.
"Someone got into my lab," she whispered. "They stole everything."
Marise was already standing, alert. "We checked your access logs."
"The logs only track my login, not unauthorized copies. If someone was inside, they could have pulled it directly from the internal server."
"Does whoever submitted it have the right to patent your work?"
"I have no idea. I’ll look it up.” She tapped out the question and read out the answer to Marise. “The patent process typically takes 1.5 to 3 years from application to final grant.
The Initial review may take 6–12 months before it’s even looked at. The competing application will be flagged as ‘first to file’, which matters under U.S. law (since the 2011 America Invents Act). Even though I’m the true inventor, proof of derivation or theft would be needed to challenge the rival filing.”
“Damn,” Marise exclaimed. “That sounds like years of fighting in courts.” She tapped her fingers irritably on the desk. “Who has a key to your lab?”
“Ted, myself, Com Co the cleaning firm, and…,” she answered, her voice lower as she went on, “… my mentor and good friend, Edith Williams. You met her with Darlene at the dinner.”
“Yes. A charming, well-spoken woman with interesting conversation. What about the director of the institute.”
“No. I insisted my lab was out of bounds to all staff. My work was private. Do you think it could be someone from Com Co?”
Marise shrugged, remembering Lena. She was the only one with the key, and unless someone paid her to get them in, it couldn’t be her. Lena was a cleaner—Kathleen’s work was way past her IQ. And most people’s intelligence for that matter, herself included. And she’d have to know what to look for. “I’ll do some probing around and find out who lodged it,” she said, flexing her fingers.
Kathleen raised her eyebrows. “You can hack into a government department?”
“It’s not hard. Private companies have more security. I have to find out first if it’s public.” She opened her laptop and googled the question. Then looked up when the answer appeared. “The application takes months to be published so it’s not public. I won’t be able to see who filed it through official channels. I’ll have to hack into their internal database.”
She connected to a shadow network through a spoofed relay in Zurich, bypassing the USPTO’s firewall with a custom exploit Lapwing had coded for federal document crawlers. Her screen flooded with encrypted metadata, and within seconds, she decrypted the rival patent application. It was an exact match to Kathleen’s research, submitted forty-two hours earlier under the name of EW Enterprises.
Kathleen stared down at it and gasped out, “EW—Edith Williams. No, no, that’s not possible. Edith would never steal my work.”
Marise looked at her sympathetically. “The initials fit, Kath. Maybe she needs the money. She would be one of the very few people who would understand what to compile for the patent.”
Kathleen blinked away tears. “We’d better go back today, Veronica. I have to get back to see her.”
Marise gave a tight nod, though it was upsetting to see Kathleen so distressed. “You want to confront her in person?”
Kathleen didn’t answer immediately. She turned away from the screen and pressed a hand to her mouth. “She’s been everything to me,” she said softly. “I don’t want to believe she’d do this.”
Marise walked over and gently placed a hand on her back. “Then help me understand. Who is she to you, really?”
Kathleen’s voice trembled as she began. “I met Edith in my first year of postgrad. I was… awkward. I didn’t know how to navigate the academic social circles. I could barely talk to people in the break room. My lab notes were a mess and I was on the verge of quitting.”
“She noticed?”
“She sat next to me one day during a seminar, and out of nowhere, said she liked my question. I hadn’t asked one. When I told her so, she laughed and said that’s what made it interesting.”
Marise smiled faintly. “Sounds like someone who thinks in riddles.”
“She did.” Kathleen ran her hands through her hair. “She invited me to lunch after that. Kept doing it—I think I was a project at first. She took an interest in strays, and was kind. She helped me structure my first research proposal, taught me how to present at conferences, what to say when I was nervous. She even came to my parents’ Sunday dinner a few times. My mother adored her.”
