Free The Justice Game by Randy Singer Page B

for more rain.
        Jason tried to begin a conversation during the taxi ride to his apartment, but Rafael apparently specialized in one-word grunts. They rode most of the way in silence.
        Once inside Jason’s apartment, Rafael produced a checklist of items he needed according to the contract Jason had signed when he first started work for Justice Inc. They started with Jason’s laptop. Jason downloaded his personal items to a flash drive and deleted those same files from the hard drive. Rafael watched over Jason’s shoulder the entire time.
        Next, Jason gave up all the flash drives, CDs, and paper files he had produced while at Justice Inc. His contract called everything a “work for hire” and specified in no uncertain terms that it all reverted back to the company. Rafael called somebody on the phone and spoke to them in Spanish. Twenty minutes later, two men appeared at Jason’s apartment and started loading everything into boxes.
        They reached a point of impasse when Rafael insisted on personally inspecting Jason’s desk drawers and the drawers of his filing cabinet for additional Justice Inc. materials. Jason refused, challenging Rafael to point out contractual language that entitled him to invade Jason’s privacy.
        “I am just ensuring that you’ve complied with your contract,” Rafael insisted. “This is for your own protection. If proprietary information gets leaked, I’ll be able to certify that it didn’t come from you.”
        “I’ll take my chances,” Jason said.
        Rafael stared at Jason for a moment. He had slipped his sunglasses on top of his head an hour earlier, revealing emotionless dark eyes that he now used to try to bully Jason.
        Instead of intimidating Jason, it only made him mad.
        “I’ll have to make a phone call,” Rafael said.
        He called Michael Ortberg, who asked to talk with Jason and played the role of good cop on the phone. It was nothing personal, Ortberg said. He acknowledged that Rafael had no contractual right to look in the drawers but he urged Jason to let Rafael look anyway. “I know you’ve got nothing to hide,” Ortberg said. “So if you could just humor him on this, it would make things a lot easier.”
        “What’s next, my sock and underwear drawer?”
        When Jason’s sarcastic comment was met with momentary silence, he became even more agitated. “You’re kidding,” he said.
        “Yes, I’m kidding,” Ortberg said. “Let me talk to Rafael.”
        Rafael took the phone and walked into another room. When he returned, he told his men to make sure they had everything boxed up and labeled. He removed a form from a folder and asked Jason to sign it.
        While the men taped and labeled the boxes, Jason studied the form. It was a certification that he had returned everything—every piece of data and information he had ever generated or collected while at Justice Inc., whether stored electronically or contained on paper or in any other manner. Jason read the form, opened his desk drawer, and handed another flash drive to Rafael, then signed the form.
        Rafael took the form, then handed Jason a plain white envelope with Jason’s name on it. “Mr. Sherwood wanted you to have this,” Rafael said.
        After Rafael and his men left, Jason sat down at his desk and opened the envelope. Any warm fuzzies he’d had about his time at Justice Inc. had largely disappeared. Rafael had made Jason feel like a convicted felon trying to steal the company’s proprietary secrets.
        The envelope contained a letter from Robert Sherwood, expressing his gratitude for a job well done. I’ve never terminated anyone for being too good, the letter said. Seems like that might merit a small bonus.
        Enclosed was another check for $75,000—half a year’s salary. It made his total severance $150,000.
        Though it still seemed like a strange way to leave