Unauthorized Access

by Andrew McAllister

  Lesley gave his arm another squeeze, one of reassurance this time.

  A voice in the kitchen said, “I think you better have a look at this.”

  In the living room, two heads swiveled as one in that direction. The first wispy swirlings of panic started a dance in Lesley’s lower gut.

  Rob and Lesley walked to the dining area. They saw Steeves pull on latex gloves and then take a sheet of paper from one of the agents who had been in Rob’s office. Steeves said nothing as he scanned the page, then handed it back with a nod.

  Then a voice from Rob’s office. “Hey, Steeves. Can you come here?”

  “Rob?” Lesley said. “What’s going on?”

  Rob’s belligerence had been replaced by a look of complete bewilderment. “I have no idea.”

  Steeves reappeared and tossed the surgical gloves on the kitchen counter. “Put on your shoes, Mr. Donovan. You’re under arrest.”

  Lesley’s mouth went dry. This couldn’t be happening.

  “For what?” Rob said.

  “Computer sabotage.”

  “That’s crazy. I haven’t done anything.”

  “Just do it,” Steeves said. “We’ll talk later.”

  Rob pressed his lips in a thin line as he walked between the two agents to the closet. When Rob was dressed, Steeves produced a pair of handcuffs and moved behind him.

  “You have the right to remain silent …,” Steeves began as he put on the cuffs.

  Lesley didn’t hear the rest. Her eyes were locked on Rob’s—asking, imploring that this not be true. She got wide-eyed disbelief in return as Steeves led Rob out the door.

  “What’s your name, ma’am?”

  The words caught Lesley by surprise. Agent Hanley was looking at her.

  “Your name?” he said.

  “Lesley,” she said. “Lesley McGrath.”

  He wrote it down. “Are you Mr. Donovan’s girlfriend?”

  “His fiancée. We’re getting married.” Or are we? The thought came out of nowhere and terrified her.

  “I need your address and phone numbers. Work, home, and cell.”

  She told him and he scribbled some more.

  “At some point we’re going to have some questions for you Miss McGrath,” Hanley said. “Also, our search team will be here in the apartment for several hours. You can stay if you like but it’s not necessary.”

  “Where are you taking him?” she asked.

  “Nowhere that you could see him tonight. I imagine he’ll end up in the Suffolk County Jail. You can check there tomorrow if you want.” He strode out the door, closing it behind him.

  Lesley stood rooted to the spot. The rustlings and subdued scraping sounds of the search team filled the apartment—Rob’s life being examined in minute detail. She looked at the dirty dishes on the table, but couldn’t bring herself to clean up. She had to get away.

  She grabbed her things and fled out the door, down the stairs and into the oncoming darkness.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ROB SAW THE face again through the small wire-meshed window in the door. The guy had looked in every few minutes since Rob had been left in the room to wait, which felt like hours. The room contained only a wooden table and a few hard plastic chairs. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what was on the other side of the reflective glass “window” set in the wall. Was someone watching him right now? Rob shivered and tried not to look in that direction.

  What made the FBI think he had anything to do with the attacks? Obviously something flimsy. Surely once someone came to talk with him he’d be able to explain their mistake easily and this would all be over.

  The door opened and in walked the two agents who had arrested him. They sat down opposite Rob. Steeves looked coolly across the table at Rob for a few seconds.

  “I think you know why we’re here,” Steeves said.

  Rob swallowed dryly. “You think I had something to do with the attack on the bank.”

  “Want to tell us about it?”

  Rob licked his lips. “There’s nothing to tell. I didn’t do anything.”

  Steeves’ eyes never left Rob’s face. “Nothing, huh?”

  Rob found it hard to draw in a full breath.

  “You can stop with the innocent act, Rob. We know what you did.”

  Rob spread his hands in exasperation. “What could possibly make you think that?”

  “Does the University of Kentucky ring a bell?” Hanley said.

  “No. Should it?”

  “Those emails you sent to the bank,” Hanley said. “One of the easiest trails we’ve ever had to trace. The folks at UCLA took less than an hour to figure out someone from the University of Kentucky had logged in to the account you used. Then we called Lexington and guess what? Same thing, only this time we traced it to your home Internet service account.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Rob said.

  “Where were you at seven-thirty on Monday evening?” Steeves asked.

  Rob thought for a moment.

  “I’m not really sure,” he said. “I was taking my girlfriend out to dinner, but then I got called in to the bank.”

  “Where were you when you got the call?” Steeves said.

  “My apartment.”

  “With your girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, she was there.”

  “And who called you?”

  “My boss. John Kelleher.”

  “What time was that?”

  “I don’t know. What does this have to do with anything?”

  “Think about it, Rob. Was it around 7:30? And don’t lie, because we’ll get the phone records.”

  “I suppose it was right around that time,” Rob said. “Why?”

  “Because we got more than one search warrant today,” Hanley said. “We also had one served on your Internet service provider and found out the exact timeframe when your home account was in use on Monday evening.”

  Rob had a perplexed expression on his face. “But … we were only in my apartment about fifteen minutes and I didn’t touch the computer.”

  Hanley carried on as if he hadn’t heard him. “Of course it didn’t surprise us when the trail led back to someone who works at the bank. Who else would have the technical know-how? You must have known we would figure that out.”

  “Look, I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Then explain the USB memory stick we found in your desk,” Hanley said. He looked at his note pad. “Some interesting files on that stick. Text files for the email messages that accompanied the attacks and a directory with a bunch of Java programs.”

  Hanley looked up. “Programs that scramble bank account records and then delete them.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Rob said.

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  “You found those in my desk?”

  Hanley nodded.

  “But anyone could slip things into my desk. There’s no door on my cubicle. People walk by there all day and—”

  “The desk in your apartment.”

  Rob blinked. “Well, still … someone must have put it there.”

  The words sounded lame, even to Rob.

  “And who could have done that?”

  Rob didn’t answer. None of this made any sense.

  Steeves spoke up. “Come on, Rob, I thought you were smart. Why do you think we take fingerprints when we book people? Your prints are on that memory stick. Nobody else’s, just yours.”

  The color drained from Rob’s face.

  “That’s impossible,” Rob said. The words came out as a whisper.

  Steeves regarded Rob as if he were some sort of laboratory specimen. “Why’d you do it?”

  Rob tried to speak but nothing came out. All he could do was shake his head.

  “You have some sort of bone to pick with the bank?” Steeves said. “Or maybe you just felt like raising a little hell.”

  “You know what I think?” Hanley said without giving Rob a chance to respond. “He did it
because he could.”

  “You mean like the mountain climbers?” Steeves said without looking away from Rob. “Just because it was there?”

  “That’s how it is with these computer hackers,” Hanley said. “The tighter the security they can beat and the more damage they can cause, then the more they can boast with their online buddies.”

  “That it, Rob?” Steeves said. “You got a big feather in your cap now?”

  “No,” Rob said. “I mean … I’m not a hacker, and I’ve got nothing against the bank. I love my job. Things are going great for me. Why would I want to mess that up?”

  Steeves gave Rob a stern look. “I was hoping you’d tell us.”

  “This is all a mistake,” Rob said.

  “Oh, you made plenty of mistakes. Like the sheet of paper we found in your apartment,” Steeves said, handing Rob a clipboard so he could have a look.

  Rob glanced at the paper. It was a printout of a partial Java program. One of the typed comments read “This will get Kelleher’s blood boiling!” Someone had circled those words and drawn a smiley face next to them, with several exclamation marks.

  “I’ve never seen this before,” Rob said.

  Steeves looked away in obvious disgust. When he turned back, he spoke slowly.

  “You’re holding a photocopy. Your fingerprints are on the original.”

  Rob’s head swam as he tried to make sense of it all.

  Steeves pursed his lips and rubbed his chin.

  “Do you have any idea how much money First Malden is losing every hour because of your stunt?”

  “It’s not my stunt. And I work there, so I know the bank is losing money.”

  “A lot of money.”

  “Of course.”

  “And,” Steeves continued, “it’s not just First Malden. The whole country is jittery about the health of the banking industry. This kind of thing is going to make investors even more nervous, which is just one more hit our economy doesn’t need.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir,” Rob said.

  “Then you understand we’re in a hurry to get the keyword from you.”

  Rob sighed. “I can’t give you the keyword because I don’t know it. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

  Steeves regarded Rob with a dour look. “You don’t get it, do you? We’ve got you cold. And this isn’t just some computer prank. You stole money from a bank. Doesn’t matter that you used a computer instead of a gun, or that you never touched any of the money. You still cost a U.S. bank of a great deal of money. That’s a federal offense, carries with it a stiff sentence.”

  Steeves’ voice grew louder as he went.

  “You crossed state lines by using computers in Kentucky and California. That’s even more jail time. You’re looking at ten to fifteen years and your only chance to help yourself is right here, right now.”

  “You’re the one who doesn’t get it,” Rob said, matching the agent’s volume. “I’ve already told you, I have nothing to do with this. All I know is I worked my tail off for two days trying to fix this mess, then you guys show up and claim to have found a bunch of evidence against me, which is just … ludicrous.”

  Rob crossed his arms and leaned back.

  His outburst seemed to have no effect on the two agents.

  “You have any idea what life is like in prison?” Steeves asked.

  Rob just glared at him.

  “I’ve had cons tell me their happiest moment of the day is when they’re locked in their cells at night,” Steeves said. “That’s when the relief washes over them, when they can stop trying to look in six directions at once. Because when they leave their cells in the morning they have no idea whether they’re going to make it back alive at the end of the day.”

  Steeves spoke slowly, giving his words time to sink in.

  “All it takes is a wrong look or for someone to imagine some sort of grudge and out come the knives. You might be thinking about something while you’re eating lunch, just staring off into space. Then some psycho figures you’re staring him down and the first thing you know he’s holding the handle of a toilet brush that’s been sharpened into a point. And the queens will think a clean young fellow like you would make a fine girlfriend.”

  Steeves paused and scratched his chin, staring at Rob the whole time.

  “Is that how you want to live?”

  Rob could feel himself starting to tremble. He shook his head.

  Steeves spread his hands. “Then what are you going to do about it?”

  Rob just stared at his hands. He felt numb all over. After an awkward silence, Hanley picked up his notepad.

  “The Financial Patriots of America,” he said slowly, emphasizing each word as he read it aloud. He dropped the notepad back onto the table with a loud slap. “Cute name, but we couldn’t find any mention of them in our databases. What exactly is the FPA, Rob? Is it just you or are you working with others?”

  Rob sat and fumed, saying nothing.

  “Don’t think you’re protecting them by keeping quiet,” Hanley said. “If anyone else is involved we’ll find them. We’ll talk to all your friends, track down the names on your email list, all the people you’ve been chatting with online.”

  “Admit it, Rob, it’s hopeless,” Steeves said. “By the time we’re finished sniffing around we’ll have you sewn up so tight you’ll be lucky if you can wiggle the baby toe on your left foot. Do yourself a favor and tell us what we want to know. It’ll go a lot easier for you.”

  Rob closed his eyes and took a long breath to try to calm down.

  “You can help yourself,” Steeves said. “The U.S. Attorney’s office will like it if we tell them you were cooperative, saved everyone a lot of time and grief.”

  “Or you can be stubborn,” Hanley said. “Try to bluff it out. Let the bank swing in the wind for a while. Really make everyone angry.”

  “But that’s only if he wants maximum prison time.”

  “Maybe that’s what he wants,” Hanley said.

  “Is that what you want Rob? It can go either way you know, it’s up to you. But one way or another you’re going to tell us the keyword, because there’s no doubt.” Steeves leaned in closer and pointed a finger at Rob. “We know what you did and we can prove it.”

  Rob shook his head in frustration. “Can’t you see that doesn’t make any sense? Even if I was dumb enough to attack the bank’s computers, why would I leave so many clues pointing in my direction?”

  Steeves looked at his partner.

  “Is it just me,” Steeves said, “or did he answer his own question?”

  “As in, why would one stupid act be followed by another?” Hanley said.

  “Yeah, like that.” Steeves leaned back in his chair again. “What’s the keyword, Rob?”

  The two agents sat and stared calmly at him.

  “I don’t see the point of this conversation,” Rob said. “I’m telling the truth but you won’t believe a single word.”

  “We can stop anytime you want,” Steeves said. “All you have to do is tell us the keyword.”

  “And if I can’t?”

  “I had lots of sleep last night, how about you Agent Hanley?”

  “Plenty.”

  Steeves shrugged. “We can stay here all night if that’s what it takes.”

  The horrible truth dawned on Rob. His innocence alone was not enough to protect him. He took a deep breath and said the words that would have been unthinkable a few hours before.

  “I’m not saying anything else until I talk to a lawyer.”

  Steeves frowned and sighed.

  “Son, you can lawyer up if you want to, but let me give you some free advice. I’ve been at this a long time, and believe me, your best chance of getting out of this in anything like one piece is to help us right now. You’ve got a good job, no record. Not even a speeding ticket. A judge will take that into account. But if you keep denying everything, you’ll just dig yourself in deeper and deeper, especially since the damage ke
eps growing the longer you wait.”

  The advice seemed sincere but Rob had no choice.

  “I want a lawyer.”

  * * *

  Stan Dysart had his feet crossed on the edge of the desk in his home office. He held the phone receiver in one hand while the other rubbed his forehead, trying to do something about his throbbing headache.

  “I don’t get it,” he said into the phone. “It’s one thing to hold the bank hostage when he thinks he’s not going to get caught, but why wouldn’t he give up the keyword once you have him cold?”

  “He’d have to admit he’s guilty,” Steeves said on the other end. “That can be hard to do. And your average perp isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. They can do some stupid things.”

  “But that’s not Rob,” Dysart said. “He’s as levelheaded as they come. Or at least I thought he was.”

  “You know him well?”

  “Very. He and my niece have dated since they were in high school.”

  “You mean Lesley?”

  “Right.”

  “We met her at Rob’s apartment. I didn’t realize she was your niece.”

  “My sister’s girl.”

  “Interesting,” Steeves said. “Do you and Rob get along?”

  “You mean does he have some sort of grudge against me?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “How do you get along with Lesley?” Steeves asked.

  The implication hit Dysart like a slap in the face.

  “You can’t possibly think Lesley could be involved,” he said.

  “Mr. Dysart, I don’t make assumptions when I start a case. I just ask plenty of questions, and you didn’t answer the one I just asked you.”

  “She’s like the daughter we never had. When she came to Boston to go to college it was the first time she’d lived away from home, so we kind of adopted her for a while.”

  “Any family squabbles, that sort of thing?”

  Dysart thought of his phone call to Lesley that afternoon. “No, not really. Look, I need that keyword. Shouldn’t we focus on how to get it?”

  “That’s what I’m doing, Mr. Dysart. We put the screws to Rob pretty good tonight but he stuck to his guns. He’s getting himself a lawyer so it’ll go one of two ways. The lawyer might be able to talk some sense into him and they’ll come looking for a plea bargain. Believe me, he won’t get any deal until he gives up the keyword. If he keeps saying he’s innocent, though, the lawyer will probably advise him to say nothing more, in which case we need to talk to other people, either find someone else who’s involved or someone who can give us something we can use to persuade Rob to cooperate.”