She slid her Hart Systems ID card across the laminate table until it rested in the exact center.

I slid the hard plastic toward my edge of the table.

The name Hart was printed in a clean blue font next to a tiny photograph of her face.

I turned the card over to study the magnetic strip.

“You planned the airplane seat,” I said.

Clara kept her hands folded perfectly in her lap.

She spoke softly, constantly checking the reflection in the glass pie case.

“Aaron stole my father’s foundational source code seven years ago,” Clara said.