The good stuff is always in a vault. If you're smart, you lock that info away if it wasn't already burned after reading. What you don't do if you're smart is lock it in a box and leave the key in the lock, but her mistake is your good fortune. So you open the heavy case hidden behind some extra equipment in a corner cabinet and take out a stack of papers with ink so fresh you get misspelled words smeared on your palms. You don't need a fortune-teller to read these.
The assortment of evidence is no evidence of crimes, though treason could be considered if you want to stretch the conditions. What you hold in this collection is a collection of correspondence with foreign nations, a menagerie of articles from every country you've never heard of asking Professor Montana, begging, pleading with her to bring her technology to them for all the riches in the world. Please Professor, our problems are the worst of all. With your invention you can solve them all!
It's hard to piece together all the details from the mix of bribery and flattery just what any of these parties really want from these deals. The matter transposing tech obviously, but it seems so clumsy. These all read like lousy scams meant to trick Montana out of her invention. Why put them in a hidden box and not straight to the incinerator? Was Montana seriously considering one of these offers? Would she really give her invention to some other power? Would she upend her life here to continue working a hemisphere away? What about this one crazy invitation to be crowned Queen-Goddess of some tropical paradise!
Then you notice the repeated communications with exactly one of those proposals. Certainly they were having a back and forth and with one last message, you understand that Professor Montana has already come to an agreement with the heads of a foreign land.
Has the professor's ego swollen so out of proportion to her skull that she has completely lost her mind? She's really going through with one of these outrageous ploys?
You feel a tingling sensation rippling out from your midsection. The paper in your hand suddenly slips loose and grows. The matter transposer falls from your grasp and hits the floor. You're following after it and fast. The professor eyes you from across the room, holding her own matter transposing device.
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