by Fritz Galt
“Now wait a second,” he said. “I’m the one who drives around here.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll meet you at the Outback in fifteen minutes. Beat the rush.”
“Sure. That works.”
With that, she flashed a broad smile.
He let her out of the office, and Maria escorted her to the door.
Jake plopped down in his seat and turned to his desk phone. He needed to compare notes with Bob.
“She didn’t bite,” Jake said over the line.
Bob, who had been excluded from knowing who the real suspect was, merely grunted. “I saw her pick up the fourth picture.”
“That wasn’t it,” Jake said.
“She took her time, but I didn’t see any flicker of recognition. She certainly didn’t point one out.”
“Didn’t you see her pause at picture number seven?”
“That was it?”
“That was Simon Wu.”
Bob grunted a negative. “I didn’t see anything unusual.”
That was strange. She had paused to study, even appraise, the photo.
“Well, I’ve got dinner with her tonight,” Jake said.
“I know,” Bob said sourly.
“So I’ll catch you later.”
“Keep focused on the case,” Bob said. “And keep your professional distance.”
That would be hard, but Jake would try.
Chapter 17
Driving toward Outback Steakhouse, Jake thought over his conversation with his boss.
Bob had said he didn’t see Stacy hesitate when she saw Simon Wu’s photo, but Jake was sure she had. If she didn’t finger Wu in the line-up, would she do so in private?
If not, the next step was tricky. It involved interrogating Simon Wu. But how did one interrogate a colleague? Jake could either go to the Inspector General and convince him he had a case, or he could do it on his own. Neither option was optimal.
Maybe he could bring up Simon Wu’s name at dinner and ask if she knew him.
He pulled off Arlington Boulevard into the Outback parking lot. As it was before six, there were plenty of spaces. He pulled in beside Stacy’s Jeep. It was empty.
He could already smell the flame-grilled steaks, and his stomach growled as he approached the restaurant.
Why was he eating out with someone other than Amber?
Amber didn’t have a proprietary claim on him, but he made a mental note not to bring Stacy to his apartment.
Inside the restaurant, he adjusted to the darkness and searched for Stacy in her white suit.
She had already secured a booth and waved her menu at him.
“I’ve got the Bloomin’ Onion on its way,” she told him.
“Perfect. I could eat a horse.”
“Yuck.”
He perused the menu, and a pert young waitress came up and introduced herself.
“Any horse flesh here?” Jake asked.
“I’m afraid not,” she said.
“Romanian mule?”
The waitress shook her head, and Stacy watched the exchange with a mixture of humor and incredulity.
“Have you ordered?” Jake asked her.
“I’ll take a ribeye,” she said. “Rare.”
“Me, too,” Jake said, and handed back the menu.
“That was an interesting exchange,” Stacy said once the waitress left. Her eyes lingered on him, trying to read him.
He attempted a disarming smile. “I’m not normally like that. Just trying to impress the ladies.”
“I don’t think it worked.”
He snapped his fingers. “Worth a try.”
He focused on his objective that evening. He had questioned Stacy formally at their first interview, and he had been hamstrung by the rules of conducting a line-up that afternoon. He was hoping that the restaurant’s more congenial environment might allow her to open up about the case.
“Now,” he said. “Tell me about Stacy Stefansson.”
“I wanted to hear about Special Agent Jake Maguire.”
“Hmm.” He was there to learn about her, not the reverse. “How about we try this. I say something about myself, and you do the same.”
“Got it. You start.”
He began with, “Born at DeWitt Army Community Hospital.”
“Born at Carilion Hospital,” she said.
He had no idea where that was. “Located at Fort Belvoir,” he said.
“Located in Roanoke.”
That helped. He went on. “Uh, have no brothers or sisters.”
“Have an older sister.”
Okay. This conversation had revealed more about her sense of humor and family history than he had gathered from all previous conversations and a careful study of her résumé.
“Never traveled further than London,” he said.
“Visited my grandmother in Iceland,” she said.
That explained her last name.
“Like Monopoly,” he said. “But hate Scrabble.”
“Interesting,” she said. “Like Clue, but hate Parcheesi.”
“Damn, I wanted to like Clue,” he said.
“You may.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Never been married.”
“That’s obvious.”
“Hey, no comments.”
She nodded sheepishly.
“So, answer the question,” he said.
“There was no question,” she said.
“You know…”
“Okay. Never owned a dog.”
So she was avoiding the marriage question.
“I know someone named Simon Wu,” he said.
“So do I.”
He stared at her, dumbfounded. She admitted to knowing the suspect, the deputy marshal working for the Witness Protection Program whose fingerprints were on the murder weapons.
“Excuse me?” he said. He hated to question her honesty. “I showed you his photograph along with all the mug shots, and you didn’t acknowledge it.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
The steaks arrived and the conversation had to wait. Jake was so curious about Stacy’s admission that he would almost rather forego the food.
When the waitress left, Jake leaned across the table. “When I showed you Simon’s picture, you didn’t say anything.”
“I recognized him at once,” she said plainly. “I thought you were just trying to throw me off.”
“And he wasn’t the assailant?”
“Simon? Of course not. I would have recognized him if he were on that path. But he’s hardly the killer.”
Jake was confused. Once again, her testimony was at odds with the evidence.
The FBI lab said the fingerprints were Wu’s, yet Stacy wasn’t able to place him at the scene.
“Does Wu play baseball?”
She thought about it and shook her head. “Why do you ask?”
“Maybe somebody picked up his bat and used it to club Chu.”
“He doesn’t own a baseball bat, as far as I know.”
It looked like someone was setting Wu up. But who was it, and why?
Had someone planted Wu’s fingerprints on the weapons somewhere in the process, either before the murder, during the crime scene investigation, or at the lab? The FBI claimed there was no contamination of the evidence, and he had to believe that.
Stacy looked undisturbed by what seemed to her to be a ridiculous allegation, and was happily eating her steak.
But Jake couldn’t let the matter go. “How well do you know Wu?”
“Very well, in fact. He’s my guy friend.”
Jake was thrown by the expression. “What do you mean by that?”
“Every girl has a guy friend or two. We can’t live on a strict diet of girlfriends and boyfriends.”
“I see. And how did you meet him?”
She held up a fork and chewed for a while. At last she swallowed and a smile spread over her lips. “Do I detect some rivalry here?”
“Me? I’m not personally involved whatsoever.”
She gave him a sideways glance and a knowing smile. “I’m not talking about our personal lives. You’re in the FBI and he’s a federal marshal. Do I sense some professional rivalry?”
Jake hadn’t considered that. “Naw. I don’t think so.”
He was absolutely confounded by her. She was either goading him, or exposing him. Or both.
“Actually, I don’t know Simon Wu,” he said. “The DOJ is a big organization. What does he do?”
He pinned her with his eyes, and she didn’t squirm.
“He says he protects people,” she said. “But you never know.”
“Does he pack a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Then he’s telling you the truth.”
She nodded slowly. “I suspected as much. But he doesn’t talk business with me.”
“What do you talk about?”
“My, you’re an awfully inquisitive guy,” she said with a mock frown. “Now there definitely is some sort of jealousy going on.”
Jake tried to laugh it off, and stuffed some bread in his mouth.
The only thing that kept him from falling for her was the mass of conflicting details about the murder case. He was unable to tell everyone’s exact connection to the A root server and role in the murder. He’d have to talk with Michael Epstein of the Criminal Division to see what he had found out.
Stacy happily cleared her plate before he did. She was a woman of appetites. In many respects, she didn’t hide a thing.
In addition to her good looks, her honesty made her attractive. If there was any clarity in the case, it came from her.
“What are you staring at?” she asked.
Only then did he realize that he couldn’t take his eyes off her. “I can’t help it,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”
For the first time, she showed some emotion. She feigned waving a fan at herself to hide a blush.
But she had blushed. He could see it.
And she knew he saw it.
And so she laughed at herself.
“Oh boy,” she said. “This is getting steamy.”
Bingo. She was right on the money again. He began to wonder if honesty wasn’t a professional hazard of being a programmer, where computers only accepted the straightforward and true.
The concept was refreshing and made him want to choose a whole new profession, where he didn’t suspect everybody.
“I like your company,” he said at last.
“Verisign?” She looked confused.
He had to laugh. “Sure. I want to buy stock in it.”
She looked even more confused. “Why would you want to do that?”
By that point, he didn’t have the heart to correct her misconception. “I like its employees.”
“Oh.” She took it as a compliment, not the affectionate meaning he intended.
He tried again. “I like you.”
She rested her chin on her fist and simply smiled at him. “That’s very nice. But let’s not talk about it, okay?”
She had embarrassed him. Transparency might have worked for her, but it wasn’t working for him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and reached across the table to take his hand. “I offended you.”
True again.
But he liked the hand holding and squeezed her fingers to let her know that there was no offense taken.
“I need to get to work early,” she said.
He understood. “One can’t keep the internet waiting.”
“Something like that. You won’t take it badly that I have to head home now?”
“Should I take you?”
She shook her head. “Two separate cars.”
She was right again. Logical as always. He tried to prevent himself from falling for that trait, but it worked in her.
She insisted on splitting the bill, and they both chipped in.
They walked through the parking lot holding hands. There was a blue cast to the evening, and headlights blurred in the haze.
“Let’s do this again sometime,” she said.
“Let’s.”
She faced him and he admired her wide eyes that seemed deeper and more mysterious at night.
She stood on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek. “Bye for now,” she whispered in his ear.
He stood there grinning as she jumped into her car and pulled away.
Reflecting over the course of their evening together, he felt like he had been run through a blender.
His questions had come back at him with more questions.
And his emotions had come back at him with equal force.
Basically, he couldn’t move until a driver honked at him in an effort to take the space he was occupying.
Chapter 18
Jake was still asleep that Wednesday morning when the telephone rang.
It was Michael Epstein. “Maguire, you’re interfering with my investigation. I’ve been planning a full-blown investigation of Verisign. We’d agreed on me checking out that aspect of this case. What is their connection to Quantum and so forth. My team followed Stacy Stefansson yesterday. They tell me you had her in your office and then went out with her.”
“Sorry, sir. I was following up on a lead on my end.”
“What lead?”
Suddenly, Jake decided he needed to keep quiet. He had to protect his information about Simon Wu’s fingerprints on the bat and knife and Stacy’s relationship with Wu. Until he got that all cleared up, he didn’t want to be caught investigating a fellow DOJ employee or have Epstein launch into a full-blown investigation that might tip Wu off.
So Jake had to fabricate an excuse for his dinner with Stacy. “I had a hunch. That’s all.”
“What kind of hunch? Maguire, you have to be up front with me. We’re on the same team, aren’t we?”
“Of course, sir. It was just a hunch about why she went jogging that day, and it didn’t amount to anything.”
“Listen. I want to be clear about this,” Epstein said. “You stick to the foreign elements of this case, and I’ll stick to the companies involved. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“The Criminal Division is trying to establish a connection between Stacy Stefansson and Quantum. She’s the target of our investigation, so hands off.”
“Check.”
Jake hated to let go of Stacy, but he could see how it was necessary in order for Epstein to complete a full-scale probe.
“Don’t take her to any more dinners. Don’t develop a relationship. Don’t even phone her. And I mean it.”
“Got it.” He held the phone away from his ear. “Now about your end. What have you come up with?”
Epstein seemed eager to share the news. “We found out that there’s more to Stacy’s relation to Quantum than we knew.”
Jake sat up and took notice. “Pray tell.”
“She contracted Quantum to work on the encryption software.”
Contracted? So she was deeply involved with Quantum. “Does that mean she knew Han Chu?”
“She’s a low-level programmer and he was a company president, but both their names were on the contract.”
“So there’s a good chance they met at least once.”
“One has to assume, but we’re working to establish that fact.”
Jake remembered how she claimed not to recognize the victim. According to her, Chu was a total stranger approaching her on the bike path. “What does this mean?”
“Number one,” Epstein said, “it means either Stacy Stefansson never met the man or is lying to us. And number two, she’s far more involved with the security of the A root server than we previously understood.”
“That’s how I see it.”
“And what have you learned about the hacking industry?”
“Actually, not much,” Jake admitted. “I’ve been to DHS, DoD, and the NSA. All of them claim to have a part to play, but nobody has exact jurisdiction over such an att
ack.”
“That’s confidence-inspiring. How about the CIA? Maybe they’re already onto this case.”
“I’ll find that out today,” Jake said. “I plan to drive out to Langley and see what they know.”
“That’s your end of this. Keep me informed.”
Epstein had disconnected before Jake could say good-bye.
So Stacy had signed a contract with Quantum.
Before getting out of bed, Jake reviewed in his mind her uncomplicated expressions, her innocent eyes. She claimed to know neither the attacker nor the victim. Either she was a fantastic liar, or she had incredible amnesia.
But he might never know which, because she was Epstein’s target, not his. He’d have to keep his mitts off her. He shouldn’t even check up on her over the phone.
He eased off the bed. He would go in to work and try to get his mind off Stacy.
He would set up a meeting with the CIA and see what they could add to the case. But he kept his expectations low. With the bureaucracy he’d encountered so far, all he would find was responsibility being handed off to other departments.
Chapter 19
The birds singing that morning didn’t seem to have a problem with the heat. But Jake felt uncomfortable the moment he stepped out of his apartment building into the soupy air.
Driving to work, he had to pass Outback Steakhouse.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d learned from his conversation with Stacy.
What did she really know about the murder?
She knew Simon Wu, but didn’t place him at the scene of the crime.
She probably knew Han Chu, but didn’t recognize him on the bike trail.
Did she have some sort of visual impairment?
He thought about her affectionate gaze at him over dinner. No, if anything, she could see straight through a person.
But there had to be some simple explanation for all of this.
Regarding Wu, Jake could accept that she glossed over his photo in the line-up because she thought Jake was trying to trip her up. And her explanation for not fingering Wu in the line-up was equally plausible. She claimed he wasn’t the assailant.
Since she said the assailant wasn’t Wu, it seemed likely that someone was trying to set him up for murder.
That left a major question in Jake’s mind. If the murderer was trying to frame Wu by planting Wu’s fingerprints on the evidence, and Wu didn’t own a baseball bat, who had access to the weapons after the crime to do so? And how had the culprit planted the fingerprints? Finding that out could lead to a break in the case.
