Grinder looked at me. “You’re the techno-wizard.”
“It transmits data by way of magnetic induction, which is one of two fields that comprise a radio signal. Electric is the other field. It relies on a coiled transmitter that delivers the magnetic induction signal which is then picked up by another device. So essentially, data, audio, and voice transfer from one device to another. It’s more secure than the better-known transmission methodologies.”
“What do you use?” Grinder asked.
“You mean, what do we use.” said Rile.
“We use Burns Butler’s radio technology, which is like ultra-wideband in that it uses a very low energy level for short-range, high-bandwidth communications over a large portion of the radio spectrum. Except with Burns’ UWB, the baseline pulses are sent directly from a device’s antenna. Its signal strength can infiltrate walls, the ground, and even the human body.”
I knew it was unlikely Rile or Grinder had any real idea what I was talking about. It didn’t matter; it was why they wanted me to be a partner in their firm in the first place.
While it was Burns who had come up with the original idea, he and I developed the technology together. I was also the one who’d ramped it up, or as Burns liked to say, “added the turbocharger.”
When we leased our version of UWB to the US government, it was without my add-ons. That, we kept for ourselves. However, given Burns insisted that my name be on several of the original patents, that deal had made me a very wealthy man.
“Knighthawk is solely owned by Judson Knight. He never took it public,” said Grinder. “Which also means he figured out a way to cut Livingston out in the early stages.”
“What’s it worth?” Rile asked me.
“Initially, millions, but Knighthawk didn’t stop there. They took that one piece and applied the technology to nearly every smart device in existence.”
“So billions?” asked Grinder.
“At least.”
Rile turned to me. “What have you been able to determine about the timing of the divorce filing?”
I told him there was nothing in Sybil Knight’s medical history, specifically her surgery, that gave me any clue as to why Judd had filed for divorce. I’d been able to confirm the date of her surgery and the date of the filing, and either Judd had one helluva heartless attorney, which was likely, or something had happened in that four-day period of time that set him off.
“I also reviewed the court documents. It doesn’t appear that Judd was ever required to pay alimony or child support.” No wonder Mila didn’t want anything to do with him. Cheap-ass sonuvabitch didn’t even want to give her anything so she could go to college.
“The next million-, or billion-, dollar question is whether the Marshall who attacked Mila and Marshall Livingston are one and the same?”
The only thing that made sense to me was that they were two different people. If that was the case, there was a good chance Judd had killed Mila’s attacker. Otherwise, nothing he’d done that night made any sense.
My phone vibrated with a message from Edge. Look who I found, it said. The next message was a photo of Adler Livingston. Before I could ask any questions, Edge called.
“Talked to a neighbor who said ‘that man has been hanging around again.’ Her exact next words were, ‘he didn’t seem that upset, given how good of friends he and that poor girl were.’ She’s the one that took the photo.”
“Where is he now?”
“A couple of cars ahead of me.”
“Stay on him, Edge.”
Somehow Adler and Marshall Livingston, Judd Knight, and Sybil were connected, and it got her killed. But who’d killed her, and why?
What had made Judd divorce his wife so abruptly right around the time of Sybil’s surgery?
My cell rang, and I saw Trip was calling back. I didn’t know where or how this guy got his information, but he sure was quick about it.
“What have you got for me?” I asked.
“No commercial travel information on Marshall Livingston. He flies private.”
“His own plane?”
“My guess, although it’s registered to a shell LLC.”