Page 24 of Code Name: Atticus
“Consulting,” Atticus said.
“Risk assessment, threat mitigation. The usual compliance headaches,” I said, smirking.
“I imagine you two have some interesting dinner conversations about ITAR restrictions and security clearances,” Morrison said with a knowing smile.
His mention of International Traffic in Arms Regulations reminded me of the serious nature of the crimes I believed he and his co-conspirators were committing, and I tensed. “We try to maintain some separation between work and personal life,” I said, moving closer to Atticus.
“Wise policy, though I imagine it’s difficult when your fields overlap so significantly.” Morrison gestured toward a quieter corner of the room. “Would you mind if we found somewhere quieter to chat? I’d love to hear more about your portfolio.”
“Of course,” Atticus said. “Lead the way.”
Morrison guided us to a small alcove near the windows, where the noise from the main party was muted enough for easier discussion. He gestured for us to sit on a small sofa while he took the nearest chair.
“So,” he began, “tell me about your decision to relocate. What prompted it?”
“Better access to defense contractors,” I replied. “My fund was doing well in DC, but I needed more West Coast presence. The defense tech ecosystem is stronger here.”
“Which contractors are you working with?” Morrison asked casually.
“The usual suspects.” I chuckled. “Though the procurement cycles are killing us. One of our companies has been waiting eighteen months for a contract that was supposed to take six.”
Morrison nodded sympathetically. “The bureaucracy is incredible. I have a friend whose company spent two years getting approval for something that should have taken two months.” He turned to Atticus. “Your cybersecurity clients must deal with similar frustrations.”
“Everything from nation-state actors to corporate espionage,” Atticus confirmed. “The attack vectors are getting more creative every month.”
“And the compliance costs keep rising,” Morrison added. “Frustrating when you see foreign competitors who don’t have the same restrictions.”
“Extremely so,” Atticus said. “We’ve seen deals fall through because of compliance delays in the past year alone.”
“All that expertise, all that understanding of the technology, and you’re limited by red tape.”
I let my hand find Atticus’ and squeezed it.
“It’s the nature of the business,” he said. “Though I have to admit, sometimes I wonder what it would be like to work for clients who had more flexibility in their operations.”
“Flexibility can mean a lot of things.”
“Companies willing to move faster, take calculated risks. The kind that aren’t waiting for total compliance before they innovate.”
“You’re right to suggest innovation requires pushing boundaries,” Morrison agreed. “The key is knowing which are worth it.”
“And which will land you in federal prison,” I added, keeping my tone light.
Morrison chuckled. “Indeed. Though sometimes, I think the regulations are designed by people who’ve never actually built anything. They don’t understand the realities of competing globally.”
“Especially when Chinese companies are eating your lunch because they don’t have the same restrictions,” Atticus said.
“Exactly.” Morrison’s eyes lit up. “I know several founders who’ve had to make difficult choices about international partnerships because of ITAR concerns.”
I recognized the pattern from cases I’d prosecuted—feeling out frustrations, building rapport around shared complaints. Classic recruitment technique, though subtle enough to maintain plausible deniability.
“Well,” Morrison said, checking his watch. “It’s been great talking with you both. I don’t want to monopolize your time. I assume you’ll be at tomorrow evening’s reception at the Redwood City Marina?”
“We’re planning on it,” I confirmed.
“Excellent.” Morrison lowered his voice conspiratorially. “The real conversations happen on the upper deck. I’ll make sure you get access.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Brenna said.
