by Rick Acker
“I see. How long would it take to tell me the results without explaining how you reached them?”
“Perhaps two to three minutes.”
“Then please do that.”
“Okay. The one-in-a-billion odds are the odds that Brandon Ames’s DNA profile would randomly match any other single DNA profile in the FBI’s CODIS database, which effectively includes the Cal-DNA database. But that’s not one of the key points you need to understand.”
“What are the key points?”
“First, the FBI’s database doesn’t contain only one profile; it contains over fifteen million profiles. The odds of a particular profile being a near-match for a profile somewhere in that database are a lot better than a billion to one.”
“Ah, I see,” Nate said. “The bigger the database, the better the chance of a random match. For example, let’s say there’s one chance in a billion that my DNA will be a partial match for yours. But if we compare my DNA to the DNA from fifteen million random people, the chances of finding a partial match would be one in ten or twenty or something like that, right?”
Kevin gritted his teeth at Nate’s imprecision and mathematical illiteracy. “That’s not how the math works, but I think you understand the basic concept. The second point is that the Chinese wouldn’t run just one profile through the database. They would check the profiles of each of their agents.”
“Do you have any idea how many agents they might have?”
“I don’t know, so I had to estimate,” Kevin confessed. “I assumed the number to be one hundred in order to make these calculations. It could be much higher, of course—the Chinese military is very large.”
“Indeed,” Nate said. “And would I be correct in guessing that running one hundred profiles through the database significantly increases the chances of a partial match?”
“Yes.”
“How many near-matches would you expect them to find if they ran one hundred profiles through the database?”
“Between eleven and fifteen. That is an estimate, but I have tried to be conservative because there is so much I don’t know about the characteristics of the FBI database.”
Nate whistled. “So you’re saying that these agents could commit crimes in the general vicinity of someone with matching DNA, leave behind some of their own DNA—say, skin and blood under the victim’s fingernails—and the police would arrest the wrong person while the agent went free?”
“Yes, exactly,” Kevin said, relieved that he had managed to get his point across.
Nate was silent for a moment. “And I suppose altering Brandon’s DNA profile to make it a perfect match for their agent’s profile would help.”
“Yes, it would,” Kevin agreed. “I am not certain that the FBI would report a partial match—the guidelines I have found so far aren’t clear. But they certainly report full matches.”
“And even if the police ultimately decide that the DNA doesn’t really match, that would take weeks. The Chinese agent could be long gone by that point.”
Kevin hadn’t thought of that. “Yes, that is an excellent point.”
“But why would the Chinese military want to kill Linc Thomas?” Nate asked.
That question had troubled Kevin too. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
CHAPTER 52
Nate’s desk phone rang. The receptionist’s extension showed on the caller-ID screen. He pushed the speaker button. “Hi, Sandy.”
“Hi, Mr. Daniels. There are two gentlemen from the FBI here to see you. Would you like me to get you a conference room?”
B&B’s conference rooms all had glass walls, and he’d rather not have this meeting on display for whoever happened to walk past. Peggy Hanratty, for example. “No, thanks. I’ll bring them back to my office.”
He ended the call and sighed. This was his fault, really. He had known that Kevin had been caught hacking before, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when it happened again. Plus, Kevin trusted his judgment, so if he had told Kevin not to hack, he wouldn’t have. But if Kevin hadn’t gotten into the FBI’s databases, would they have ever discovered that Brandon’s DNA profile had been altered?
He shook his head. It was in the past. All he could do now was play the cards in his hand. And he had a plan for how to do that.
He walked out to the lobby and found two men in off-the-rack suits waiting for him. One was a beefy African American man who appeared to be in his late forties. The other was a tall, wiry Asian man who looked like he was a few years younger.
The older man extended his hand as Nate approached. “I’m Special Agent Coleman Jones, and this is Special Agent William Chen. Could we talk with you for a few minutes, Mr. Daniels?”
“Of course,” Nate said as he shook hands with them. “Right this way.”
He guided them back to his office and shut the door as they sat in his guest chairs. “What can I do for you?” he asked as he walked around his desk and deposited himself in his chair.
“We have some questions about a matter you’re working on.”
Nate nodded. “I thought you might. Fire away.”
Jones looked surprised for an instant, but he quickly recovered. Interesting, Nate thought. Was it possible that they hadn’t talked to Kevin before coming here?
“You have been meeting with a woman named Jade Li,” Jones said. “Why?”
Nate mentally recalibrated, wondering how much they already knew. Surprising that they didn’t lead with a question about Kevin—maybe they weren’t here because of his hacking after all. “Those meetings relate to an ongoing case,” he said.
“We know,” Jones said. “People v. Ames. What have you been discussing with Ms. Li?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s confidential,” Nate said.
“How about the meetings your associates have had over the past several months with various individuals connected to prostitution and human trafficking? Were those also related to People v. Ames?”
Nate nodded. “They were indeed, and what was said during those meetings is also confidential.”
Jones frowned and leaned forward. “You realize that we could just subpoena you and force you to testify in front of a grand jury, right?”
Nate nodded and gave a hard-edged smile. “I do. And if you asked me those same questions, I would refuse to answer, because what happens during case-related witness interviews is attorney work product and therefore protected from discovery.”
Jones glared at him. “We’ll see about that.”
“You don’t have to take my word for it,” Nate said. “Ask someone in the US Attorney’s Office. I believe Al Francini is still the chief of the criminal division. He should know.” He was also a friend of Nate’s.
“Jessica Ames isn’t an attorney,” Chen said. “We could subpoena her.”
“She’s part of my team and therefore covered by the work-product protection.”
“How about the people you interviewed?” Jones asked.
They might be able to force the interviewees to testify. Nate wasn’t familiar enough with the rules of criminal procedure to be sure. Time to make things a little less adversarial. And to take control of this conversation, if possible. He thought for a moment. “I don’t think you two came here for free legal advice. Let’s cut to the chase. I’m guessing that these witness interviews are related to something you’re working on. It’s possible that there is a federal probe into the murder of Lincoln Thomas, but that seems unlikely. If that’s what you were doing, you might try to interview Brandon Ames, but you wouldn’t come to me, fishing for information about witnesses. What else could it be?” He paused, watching their faces carefully. “Could it be Lan Long?”
They both kept their poker faces, but they probably would have relaxed at least a little if he had guessed wrong. Instead, they tensed.
“We’re not at liberty to discuss what we’re investigating,” Jones said.
Nate shrugged. “That’s fine. We don’t need to discuss it. I wish you luck. Lan
Long are bad people. And based on what I’ve seen, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they killed Linc Thomas. If you find evidence that they did, please let me know. The future—possibly the life—of an innocent young man hangs in the balance. My colleagues and I would, of course, be happy to reciprocate by sharing anything we are able to.”
The agents looked uncertain what to do. “Thank you, Mr. Daniels,” Jones said. “Is there anything that you can share with us at the present?”
Nate smiled. “Not at the present, but I might be able to persuade my client to agree to share information with the FBI if the sharing went both ways.”
“We’ll, ah, take that into consideration,” Jones said. “Are you planning on conducting any further witness interviews?”
“Yes, but the identities of the witnesses would be work product, of course.”
Jones sighed. “Of course.” He got up, and Chen followed suit. “We appreciate your time.”
A new thought occurred to Nate. “By the way, was Mr. Thomas an FBI informant?”
Yes, said their body language.
“You know we can’t answer that question,” Jones said.
Nate shrugged. “Perhaps not, but maybe I can find another witness who can.” He stood and walked to the door. “Thank you, gentlemen. I appreciate your stopping by today. I look forward to hearing from you again.”
CHAPTER 53
Brandon let his knuckles heal. He stopped beating up his mattress. He forced himself to sit still and read—or at least stare at a book—for at least two hours a day. When he sat down with the psychologist, he carefully avoided saying anything that might indicate that he had violent or self-destructive thoughts. In short, he did everything he could to prevent getting medicated or sent to a hospital for the criminally insane. He didn’t think either option would necessarily be a change for the worse, but he couldn’t bear the thought of his mother’s reaction.
It worked. He didn’t see the psychologist’s report, but the talk about medication stopped after Brandon met with him. And his mother was noticeably relieved the next time he saw her.
They also started letting him out of his cell more. They largely segregated the ad-seg and general population—or gen-pop—prisoners, but Brandon got to see other human beings on a regular basis. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it.
He noticed that the other prisoners seemed tense. At first, he thought it was just him. It was partly him, certainly. Word of the fight and Hector Garcia’s death seemed to have spread throughout the jail, and gen-pop prisoners—particularly Los Reyes—shouted or glared at him when they saw him from across the cafeteria or through the bars separating the gen-pop and ad-seg areas in the main yard. Even when he was in the yard with only the other ad-seg guys, they generally gave him a wide berth.
But he gradually realized that there was a more general tension in the air. Men were quiet and didn’t laugh much. They stood in small groups, watching. Waiting.
CHAPTER 54
Nate wasn’t surprised to see Al Francini’s name show up on his desk phone’s caller ID. He smiled and picked up the receiver. “Al, it’s good to hear from you. How have you been?”
“Can’t complain, though I sometimes feel like a juggler who’s got one too many balls in the air.”
“I sympathize,” Nate said.
“You do?” Al said drily. “Then why did you toss me another ball?”
“My apologies. The FBI dropped it in my lap, and I thought you might know what to do with it.”
Al sighed. “I wish Cole and Billy had talked to me before they decided to pay you a visit. They thought they were doing a semifriendly background interview. In reality, they were wandering into a verbal fencing match with Zorro.”
Nate smiled at the compliment, but he recognized that it was a ploy to soften him up and get him to let his guard down a little—which he wasn’t about to do. Al was a friend, but he was at least as good a verbal fencer as Nate was—though he had just made a mistake. “You are too kind, sir. It was just, as you put it, a semifriendly conversation about a matter of mutual interest. Lan Long, to be specific.”
“Without commenting on what might interest the FBI, am I correct in guessing that Lan Long is only of interest to you because you think they may be connected to the murder of Linc Thomas?”
“You are mostly correct,” Nate replied carefully. “My first duty lies with my client, of course. That said, I have reason to believe that the world would be a better place without Lan Long regardless of what happens to Brandon Ames.”
“So you wouldn’t want to do anything that might interfere with a possible law-enforcement investigation of Lan Long, correct?”
“Yes, with the caveat that I have to zealously represent my client,” Nate said warily.
“Of course. And would you agree that a hypothetical law-enforcement investigation into Lan Long might be disrupted if private lawyers started interviewing everyone they could find who might know something about Lan Long—especially if those private lawyers started alluding to the possibility that a murder victim might have been an FBI informant?”
“I can see how that might happen,” Nate said.
“Word might get back to Lan Long, don’t you think? They might get spooked and put their operations on hold until those private lawyers went away.”
“Which those private lawyers can’t do so long as their client is being accused of the murder of a law-enforcement mole in Lan Long,” Nate replied. “Hypothetically.”
“Unless law enforcement was willing to provide information to those lawyers in return for their cooperation,” Al said.
Nate had hoped that was where Al was headed. “That would depend on what information law enforcement could provide.”
“The specific information couldn’t be revealed in advance, of course,” Al said. “If law enforcement did that, they would be giving away bargaining chips before the negotiations even began.”
“Maybe,” Nate said. “But they could certainly reveal whether the information they had would probably be enough to exonerate the lawyers’ client.”
Al was silent for a moment. “Actually, I’m not sure they could.”
“You’re not giving me a lot to go on here, Al. If this hypothetical situation were to become real, it would be very difficult for me to advise my client on how to proceed without more. You would be asking us to agree to forgo a significant avenue of investigation in return for a black box and no promises about what’s inside.”
“Yeah, I know,” Al said, sounding frustrated and a little tired. “I wish I could tell you more, but I’ve gone as far as I can. Maybe farther. Do you think I’d be talking purely in hypotheticals if I didn’t have to?”
“I understand,” Nate said. “I’ll talk to my client and the other members of the defense team, and I’ll get back to you.”
“Thank you.” Al hesitated for a moment. “One other hypothetical I hope you’ll keep in mind: If Lan Long was willing to commit one murder to keep their secrets secret, they’d be willing to commit more, don’t you think?”
CHAPTER 55
Jessica was a little surprised when Nate suggested that they and Sofia meet for a late lunch near Sofia’s office, but she wasn’t complaining. The restaurant he picked, Pescadero, had decent food and a beautiful view of Oakland’s Lake Merritt. It also happened to be owned by Sofia’s family, she discovered. They sat outside, enjoying the unseasonably warm spring weather, but their table was far enough from other diners to allow for private conversation.
“I had a very interesting call with an old friend this morning,” Nate announced as soon as the server left—after bringing their crab-cake appetizers, which Sofia had highly recommended.
“More interesting than your surprise meeting with the FBI yesterday?” Jessica asked. “The one you promised to tell us about during lunch?”
“They’re related,” Nate said. “The FBI agents were fishing for information about what we’ve been doing to build our case.”
“I told you Kevin would get us in trouble,” Sofia said around a bite of crab cake.
“Actually, they never asked about Kevin,” Nate said. “They wanted to know about our witness interviews. They seemed surprised to learn that any records we have would be work product.”
“We’ll probably have to turn over our interview notes to the prosecution, at least for the witnesses we want to put on the stand,” Sofia said. “But that doesn’t mean the FBI gets them. Did they say why they were interested in who we’d been talking to?”
“Not directly, but when I asked whether they were investigating Lan Long and whether Linc Thomas was an informant . . .” He paused and smiled. “Let’s just say they need to work on their poker faces.”
“Nicely played,” Sofia said. “I’m glad to hear that they’re investigating Lan Long. Really glad.”
“So am I,” said Jessica. “It’s horrible what they do to those poor girls.”
“What made you think to ask about Linc being an informant?” Sofia asked.
He shrugged. “Two reasons. Jade had said something about Lan Long not liking people who talk, so once I suspected the FBI was investigating them, it was pretty easy to guess who he might have been talking to. Second, my friend referred to one of the agents as Billy. That woman you interviewed heard Linc talking to someone named Billy.”
“Was the friend who called you today also in the FBI?” Jessica asked.
“US Attorney’s Office,” Nate said. “They’re the ones who usually prosecute the cases the FBI investigates—like the DA prosecutes cases that a police department investigates. His name is Al Francini. I mentioned him while I was talking to the FBI agents, hoping they would go to him, which it seems they did.”
“Francini?” Sofia said. “He’s the criminal chief in the Northern District USAO, right? What did he have to say?”
Nate looked back and forth between them for a moment, then said, “He offered us a hypothetical deal.”
“A hypothetical deal?” Jessica said. “What does that mean?”