“Very,” Pavel typed back.
He looked at his watch. 12 minutes had passed. Three more, and what could either save the company or destroy it from within would begin. Because if Svetlana was really preparing a leak, it meant one of the competitors already knew their weak spots. Knew who they worked with, what terms they offered clients, what technologies they were developing.
Pavel left his office and headed for the conference room. On the way, he saw Lidia Promskaya, a middle-aged woman in a faded gray smock with a rag in her hand. She was mopping the floor near the stairs, diligently scrubbing away shoe marks. Seeing him, she stepped back, moving her bucket of water.
— Good evening, — Pavel said, stopping. — Are you Lidia?
— Good evening. Yes, — the woman nodded, looking at him warily. — Is something wrong? I’ve cleaned everything as I’m supposed to.
— Everything’s fine, — he assured her. — Your daughter is here, right? Mila?
Lidia tensed up even more.
— She’s not bothering anyone! She sits quietly, I keep an eye on her. I just have no one to leave her with. My husband passed away three years ago, no relatives. They won’t keep her at the daycare after six, and my shift starts at five. I don’t know what else to do…
— That’s not what I’m talking about, — Pavel raised a hand, stopping her excuses. — It’s all good. I just met her in the hallway. She’s a good girl. Smart and well-behaved.
— Thank you. — Lidia relaxed a little, but her eyes still held a guarded look. People in her position were used to expecting trouble from their superiors.
Pavel nodded and walked on. The lights were already on in the conference room, and voices could be heard. He pushed the door open and entered. Four people were sitting at the long table. Gennady Rudnitsky, the 55-year-old CFO, gray-haired with the heavy gaze of an experienced accountant. Kirill Kravtsov, the 33-year-old deputy director, ambitious and energetic. Vera Yazvinskaya, the 31-year-old company lawyer, always composed and precise. And Svetlana Beregay.
She sat with her legs crossed, scrolling through something on her phone. Her red nails tapped on the screen. The strawberry scent was indeed noticeable even from here. A slight irritation was visible on her face. The meeting had likely disrupted her evening plans.
— Good evening, — Pavel said, closing the door. — Thank you for coming so quickly. Is Oleg running late?
— I’m here, — a voice came from the door, and Oleg Myachin, the 38-year-old head of security, a former Ministry of Internal Affairs officer, short-haired and fit, walked in. He held a folder in his hands. — Access data, as requested.
— Excellent.
Pavel sat at the head of the table and surveyed the room.
— Colleagues, we have a problem. A serious problem that requires an immediate solution.
Svetlana looked up from her phone, and Pavel caught her eye. For a split second, something flickered in it. Caution? Fear? But she quickly composed herself and feigned polite interest.
— What happened, Pavel Igorevich? — she asked, her voice showing no trace of worry.
Pavel slowly opened his laptop.
— Everyone will find out now. — Pavel looked around at those seated at the table and paused, letting everyone feel the gravity of the moment.
Gennady Rudnitsky listened with interest, his gray eyebrows knitting together. Kirill Kravtsov sat up straight in his chair, putting his phone aside. Vera Yazvinskaya took out a notebook and pen—a lawyer’s habit of noting everything important. Svetlana Beregay remained in the same relaxed posture, but her fingers had stopped gliding across her phone’s screen.
— An hour and a half ago, — Pavel began, — I became aware of a potential leak of commercial information from our company. We’re talking about documents containing confidential data that could be passed on to third parties.
— A leak? — Gennady Rudnitsky frowned. — Where did you get this information?
— The source is reliable, — Pavel answered curtly. — I can’t say more for now. What’s important is this: if it’s true, we need to act immediately. Oleg, what do you have?
Oleg Myachin opened his folder and laid out several printouts on the table.
— At your request, I pulled the data from the electronic passes for the last week, — he said, running his finger down the lines. — The HR archive. The room is secure. Entry is by electronic key only. Five people have access: you, Pavel Igorevich; Gennady Lvovich as CFO; Svetlana Andreevna as Head of HR; Kirill Maximovich as Deputy Director; and myself as Head of Security.
— And who went in there this week? — Pavel asked.
Oleg scanned the list.
— You were there on Monday morning to get a new employee’s file. Gennady Lvovich was there on Tuesday to check contracts with suppliers. Svetlana Andreevna… three times. Monday at six p.m., Wednesday at seven p.m., and today at half-past six.
Pavel shifted his gaze to Svetlana. She listened without any change in her expression, but he noticed her lips tighten slightly.
— Svetlana Andreevna, — Pavel addressed her, — can you explain why you needed to access the archive three times this week after business hours?
She shrugged, and the gesture seemed too demonstratively casual to Pavel.
— I work with personnel documents constantly, — she replied in an even voice. — This week I was preparing reports for the tax office, checking employment contracts. It’s part of my duties. Why should I have to report on when exactly I do it?
— Because there is reason to believe that a leak of information may have occurred from the archive, — Pavel said sternly. — And your after-hours visits look suspicious.
— Suspicious? — Svetlana smirked, but the laugh sounded forced. — Pavel Igorevich, I’ve worked for this company for five years. I have an impeccable reputation. On what grounds can you even suspect me?
— On the grounds of the law on trade secrets, — Vera Yazvinskaya interjected, not looking up from her notepad. — Article 14. Any employee with access to confidential information may be investigated if there are reasonable suspicions of disclosure. The employer has the right to conduct an internal investigation.
— Exactly, — Pavel nodded. — Vera, please outline what this law regulates.
The lawyer turned a page in her notebook.
— It establishes the legal regime for the protection of trade secrets. Information constituting a trade secret includes data that has actual or potential commercial value due to its being unknown to third parties. In our case, this includes client contracts, terms of cooperation, pricing, and technical developments. Article 14 establishes liability for disclosure. An employee guilty of disclosure is obliged to compensate for the damages caused. Furthermore, they can be dismissed under the relevant article.
— That’s all theory, — Svetlana said coldly. — But you have no proof that I disclosed anything. You can’t just accuse me out of thin air.
— Oleg, — Pavel turned to the head of security, — what about our video cameras?
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