— Yes, Pavel Igorevich, I’m just finishing up the reports.
— Excellent. Listen carefully. — He entered his office and closed the door. — I need all the company’s management here in fifteen minutes. Everyone who’s in town. Urgent meeting. Get them here.
— Everyone? — Alena’s voice held a note of surprise. — It’s late, some might have already left.
— Everyone who’s available, — Pavel cut her off. — Gennady Rudnitsky, Svetlana Beregay, Oleg Myachin, Kirill Kravtsov, Vera Yazvinskaya. This is not negotiable. Meeting in the conference room. The topic is an internal investigation.
— Understood, — Alena was clearly flustered. — I’m contacting everyone now.
Pavel sank into his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The room with the big cabinets and the flower on the window was the HR department’s archive. It held employee personnel files, employment contracts, and work record books. But most importantly, it also contained the safe with commercial contracts, accessible only to department heads. Svetlana had access. Legitimate, official access.
He opened his laptop and quickly scrolled through the internal database. Svetlana Beregay – Head of HR since 2020. Impeccable reputation, not a single complaint. Salary – 180,000 a month plus quarterly bonuses. By market standards, a decent but not outstanding offer.
‘Doesn’t appreciate me and doesn’t pay me properly,’ the girl’s words echoed in his head.
Pavel opened a file with the latest data on competitors. “Status-Tech” – a company that had been aggressively expanding for the last six months, poaching his clients. Three major contracts had gone to them in the last four months. At the time, he had written it off as aggressive marketing and price dumping. But what if the reasons ran deeper? What if they knew the terms of his offers in advance and simply undercut his price?
The door opened a crack, and Alena entered – a tall blonde in a severe pantsuit.
— Pavel Igorevich, everyone is gathering. Gennady Lvovich was at home but is on his way, promised to be here in 20 minutes. The others are on their way. Svetlana Beregay said she had personal plans for the evening but will come.
— Good, — Pavel nodded. — Prepare the conference room. And one more thing, contact Oleg Myachin separately. Have him pull the access data for the archive rooms for the past week before the meeting. All entries and exits, everyone who used an electronic pass. I’m especially interested in the HR archive.
Alena wrote it down, but her eyes betrayed her anxiety.
— Did something happen?
— Possibly. — Pavel stood up and took his jacket from the hanger. — Very possibly. But for now, this is between us.
Left alone, he walked to the window. Down below, in the lit parking lot, stood several cars, likely belonging to employees working late. His gaze swept over the dark windows of the neighboring office buildings. Somewhere out there, in this concrete desert of the business district, sat his competitors. And if Svetlana was truly planning to hand over data to them, he had to act immediately.
He remembered hiring her five years ago. The interview had gone smoothly: an experienced HR specialist, a law degree, knowledge of legislation, recommendations from previous jobs. Svetlana had struck him as a professional capable of building a clear system. And she did. A perfect system for herself.
Pavel returned to his desk and opened the company’s internal regulations. Section “Trade Secrets.” Clause 3.4: “Employees with access to confidential information undertake not to disclose it to third parties under threat of disciplinary and financial liability.” Clause 3.7: “The transfer of documents containing trade secrets without the written permission of the management is a gross violation of the employment contract and grounds for immediate dismissal.”
The wording was clear. All that remained was to prove the fact.
His phone vibrated. A message from Oleg Myachin: “Pavel Igorevich, preparing the access data. Is it serious?”
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