Unauthorized Access

by Andrew McAllister

  “How long have you two known each other?” Steeves said.

  “Since grade school. We both grew up in Worcester. He’s never been in any kind of trouble.”

  “And you’ve been buddies all that time?”

  “Not really. Just since high school.”

  “You’re friends outside of work, right?”

  Tim raised his hands off the table in a mini-shrug. “We ride our bikes a few times a week, you know, for exercise. Other than that, just the usual stuff, going out to the clubs on the weekend, that sort of thing.”

  “You guys must talk about the bank all the time, both of you working there and all.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Has Rob ever mentioned any problems he might have had with the bank?”

  Tim gave the agent a suspicious look.

  “You mean do I know any reasons why Rob might want to hurt the bank?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I don’t think Rob would ever do anything like that. He’s just not that kind of guy. You ask anyone who knows him. I mean, yeah, he gets frustrated at work like anyone else but that doesn’t make him a terrorist.”

  “Tell me about this frustration.”

  “It’s nothing, you know, just normal work stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  Tim glared at Steeves with defiance until he felt it was long enough to seem like a protective friend.

  “Rob’s an ambitious guy, is all,” Tim said. “Sometimes he complains about being held back, not getting the kind of work he’s capable of doing.”

  Hanley looked up from writing in his notepad. “You and Rob are both programmers, right?”

  Tim nodded.

  “And Rob wants to move up the ladder,” Hanley said.

  “It’s no big deal. Lots of people gripe about their jobs. It doesn’t mean they’re going to go postal.”

  “Is there anything else he ever complains about?” Steeves asked.

  “Not really, no.”

  Steeves nodded. Tim felt his insides relax, if only a tiny bit. Then Steeves said, “Where were you Monday evening around seven-thirty?”

  Tim suddenly felt dizzy. He had been in Rob’s apartment at that time.

  They knew.

  Time seemed to slow down. A rush of images flashed through Tim’s mind—cells and bars, knife fights and prison rapes.

  Tim swallowed hard. He could handle this. Just stick to the prepared script.

  “Monday?” he said. “Let me think. This week has been such a blur.”

  He pretended to think, and then said, “Yeah, that’s the night we got called back into the bank. I was at work until probably seven or so. When I got home my father told me the bank had called.”

  Tim turned and called through the doorway into the living room. “Hey Dad, you remember what time I got home Monday night?”

  “How should I know?” Eldon said.

  Tim gave the agents an apologetic shrug.

  “Can anyone confirm what time you left the office?” Steeves asked.

  Tim really did have to stop and think about that one.

  “As far as I can remember,” he said, “the office was pretty much deserted by the time I packed it in.”

  Tim didn’t like the look the two agents exchanged.

  “Okay, that’s all we have for now,” Steeves said. He handed Tim a business card. “Give us a call if you think of anything else.”

  “Sure.”

  After a round of thanks and handshakes, the agents left. Tim re-attached the security chain, put his forehead against the inside of the door and leaned there for a few moments with his eyes closed, trying to calm down.

  He had no idea if they believed him.

  * * *

  Lesley seemed like a lost soul to Rob as she looked back at him through the glass.

  “Don’t look so sad,” he said.

  She gave a nervous laugh.

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  Rob put a hand on the glass. He wanted so much to touch her, to comfort her. She held her hand up next to his for a moment, and then let it fall back into a wrestling match with her other hand.

  “Hey,” he said, “this will all get straightened out, you’ll see.”

  “But I don’t understand what’s going on. Uncle Stan said the FBI agents found all sorts of evidence in your apartment.”

  “I know,” Rob said, “but I didn’t do it.”

  “Then why is this happening?”

  “Good question. I know that stuff with my fingerprints on it didn’t walk into my apartment all by itself.”

  Lesley’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean …”

  “Someone put that stuff there to set me up.”

  Rob felt flutters in his gut. Those words had sounded far-fetched when he said them to Steeves the night before. They sounded no better this morning.

  Lesley looked at him with incredulity.

  “You can’t be serious,” she said.

  “It’s the only way it could have gotten there.”

  Lesley had a hand over her mouth. A tear escaped down her cheek. Rob stared hard at her face, searching desperately for clues as to whether she believed him. She rummaged in her purse and found a tissue. The flash of her diamond ring caught Rob’s eye as she dabbed at her eyes.

  “This whole thing sucks,” he said. “We’ve been together twice since I gave you the ring, and both times I ended up getting dragged away.”

  She looked down at her hand.

  “Aunt Sheila noticed it last night,” she said. “We had a good cry over it.”

  Frustration washed over Rob. What could he say? He hadn’t expected to be in jail when people found out they were engaged.

  They looked at each other for what seemed like a long while, neither knowing what to say to make everything all right. Lesley worked hard with the sodden tissue again, then balled it up and held it in one fist.

  Finally she said, “What’s going to happen to us?”

  Rob had no good answer for that one, at least none he believed, but Lesley didn’t need more doom and gloom.

  “The FBI guys said they were going to keep digging,” he said, “talk to other people, stuff like that. They’ll probably figure out I didn’t do anything, you know, find out who’s really behind it and this will all get straightened out.”

  Rob could read the doubt in her eyes.

  “You believe me, don’t you?” he said. “You know I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Well … yeah,” she said. “Of course I do.”

  Rob’s stomach clamped down into a solid ball. If she was so sure, why did she hesitate before answering?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LESLEY WAS TOO distracted to notice when Leo hurtled past her feet, chasing a ping-pong ball across the living room floor.

  “Is your TV on?” she said into the phone.

  “I can see it,” Tim said. “Dad’s watching the noon news.”

  “My station?”

  “Yeah. Incredible, isn’t it?”

  “That’s not the word I’d use.”

  They lapsed into silence as Lesley watched her colleague, Jim Brugger, interview a young man outside the same bank branch she and Shayna had visited a couple of days before.

  “As far as I’m concerned it’s the bank’s fault,” the young man on the TV said. “I don’t care if it was just one guy who worked there. Bottom line, they didn’t keep my money safe, so I’m taking my business elsewhere. And that guy they caught? I hope they put him away for a long time, send a message to anyone who thinks it’s cool to be a computer hacker. They have to realize this sort of thing costs people a lot of money.”

  Lesley had seen enough. She turned off the TV.

  “Yesterday I was angry when my producer pulled me off the story,” she said, “but now I’m glad. I couldn’t listen to people talking about Rob like that.”

  “I still can’t wrap my head around it,” Tim said. “I mean Rob is absolutel
y the last guy I would have figured to do something like this.”

  “He says he didn’t.”

  “I hope that’s true.”

  Lesley sighed. “You and me both.”

  “Look, I know this must be grinding you up. I just called to say if you ever need someone to talk to or anything, give me a call. I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”

  That brought a sad smile to Lesley’s face.

  “Thanks, that’s sweet of you.”

  A knock sounded on the door to Lesley’s apartment.

  “I should let you go,” Lesley said. “Someone’s at my door.”

  “You’ll keep me up to date on how Rob’s making out?”

  “For sure.”

  Lesley hung up and walked to the door. She felt a little better after Tim’s call, knowing someone cared enough to check on her.

  Half expecting to see Shayna, she opened the door. When she saw who it was, she was so surprised she could only stare.

  * * *

  The officer delivered Rob to the interview room and then withdrew, closing the door as she went out. Rob was left looking at a man so black he positively shone. The guy appeared to be in his mid-thirties, stood a few inches over six feet, was completely bald and wore a gray suit and polished shoes.

  “Neal Pettigrew,” the man said, extending his hand. His voice was deep and resonant. “I’m an attorney. Your father hired me to represent you.”

  Other than having his fingerprints taken and being moved forcibly along by the arm, the firm handshake was Rob’s first physical contact with another human being since the arrest. Rob felt a spark of hope, the first of the day. Surely now the madness would end.

  “You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” Rob said.

  “Let’s sit down,” Pettigrew said, indicating the wooden table.

  When they were seated, Rob said, “This is all a big mistake. I hope you can help clear it up.”

  “That’s what I get paid for, but I need you to do your part too, so first we need to set some ground rules.”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “It’s my job to speak on your behalf, so from this point forward you don’t talk to anyone about your case unless I’m present. Understood?”

  Rob nodded.

  “That includes the police, friends and family, other prisoners and especially not the media. This is turning into a high-profile case, which is bad for you. Every time your picture appears on TV or in a newspaper you become more closely associated with the crime in the minds of all those potential jurors out there.”

  Pettigrew underscored his points with small jabs of an expensive-looking pen. His gold cuff link flashed as he did so.

  “I’ve been on TV?” Rob asked.

  “The FBI released a statement this morning concerning your arrest. You’ve become big news.”

  The revelation made Rob feel even more out of touch. The world was moving on without him.

  “It’s not only the media,” Pettigrew continued. “Your boss at the bank—a Mr. Dysart—phoned me not long after I talked to your father. Dysart seems to be well connected, because shortly after that both the FBI and the U.S. Attorney’s office called.”

  “That’s Stan all right. He swims with the big sharks.”

  “Stan being Mr. Dysart?”

  “Yes.”

  “They were all anxious to tell me about the evidence they’ve gathered,” Pettigrew said. “That’s unusual. I’m entitled to see what they’ve got but they normally hold it back until the rules say they have to show it to me. Apparently they’re in a hurry to obtain some information from you.”

  “The keyword,” Rob said. “I don’t have it.”

  Pettigrew pursed his lips and nodded.

  Rob sighed. “I had nothing to do with what happened at the bank. I’ve told this to the FBI and to Stan but nobody will listen.”

  “Okay, I hear you. Now here’s a couple of things you have to understand. First, every client tells me they’re innocent. That’s how the game is played. Second, your actual guilt or innocence is irrelevant to the legal process. The only currency that matters here is evidence.”

  “I’ve had all morning to sit around and think about the evidence,” Rob said. He hesitated, knowing he was going to sound paranoid. “The stuff they found in my apartment couldn’t have just shown up by accident. Someone must have planted it.”

  “Do you know who that someone might be?” Pettigrew asked.

  “No idea,” Rob said.

  “Then we’ll have to address that question at a more appropriate time. For now we need to prepare for the arraignment tomorrow morning.”

  “You mean I’m not getting out of here today?” Rob asked.

  “You might not even be released tomorrow. That depends on whether we can convince the judge to give you bail. It helps that you’re a first-time offender, but the prosecutor might argue it’s crucial to keep you in custody until the bank is no longer incurring damages.”

  Rob was tempted to inform Pettigrew that he was no “offender” but decided to let it slide. After all, the guy was trying to help. The prospect of even one more night in jail depressed him.

  “We should talk about the possibility of a plea bargain,” Pettigrew said.

  “No way.”

  “I won’t lie to you Rob. They have a strong case with plenty of physical evidence. The system penalizes people who gamble with a trial and lose. You almost always get a better deal if you make it early in the process.”

  “But if I didn’t do anything wrong, how could they prove I did?”

  “They don’t have to prove it. They only have to convince a jury.”

  “And you think they can.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Pettigrew said. “I’m just pointing out your options. You should consider the fact that the evidence is strong.”

  Rob clenched his jaw and glared at his lawyer.

  “You think I did it, don’t you?”

  “That’s not important,” Pettigrew said.

  “It is to me,” Rob shouted.

  Pettigrew didn’t seem fazed by the outburst.

  “The courts are beginning to treat computer crimes as very serious indeed,” he said. “If you elect to go to trial and are convicted, you could be facing ten years in prison, or even more. The Assistant U.S. Attorney hinted that with a plea bargain you would probably be looking at something closer to two years, which would mean you could be out in a year.”

  Rob swallowed dryly. After one night in jail, a year sounded like an eternity. And who would ever trust him to work as a computer professional again? Then there was Lesley—but he didn’t even want to go there. The whole concept of pleading guilty was inconceivable.

  “Of course,” Pettigrew said, “any deal depends on you giving up the keyword.”

  The twisted ball of tension in Rob’s gut settled in for a long stay.

  * * *

  Rose McGrath was about the same size and build as her daughter, although age had added a few lines to her face and a few pounds to her petite frame. Rose’s brunette hair was shorter and straighter than Lesley’s. She gave her daughter a tentative smile.

  “Gee, I thought you’d be glad to see me,” Rose said.

  “Oh, Mom,” Lesley said, “of course I am.”

  Lesley gave her mother a big hug. Rose stepped into the apartment and Lesley closed the door.

  “I was going to call you,” Lesley said, “but I didn’t know what to say.”

  “Sheila called me first thing this morning, said you were still sleeping. I was so worried I had to come right away.”

  Leo trotted over to investigate the newcomer and busied himself with the sneakers Rose took off. He had to teach the laces who was the boss.

  Lesley held up her ring hand. A look of astonishment spread across Rose’s face. She reached out to hold Lesley’s hand, looked slowly up into Lesley’s face, then back down at the ring.

  “I take it Aunt Sheila didn’t mention this,” Lesl
ey said.

  “No,” Rose said, shaking her head weakly.

  “I always thought it would be exciting when I showed you a diamond, that we’d jump up and down and giggle or something.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Lesley sighed. “He proposed Monday night. We were going to call you last night, but … well, then he was arrested.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Rose said, her face somber. “I mean, ‘congratulations’ doesn’t seem right, but …”

  “It’s okay, Mom. Come on in and sit down.” Lesley led the way into the kitchen. “Have you had lunch?”

  “I’m not hungry,” Rose said as she sat at the kitchen table.

  “Me neither.”

  Leo scampered to his dish, turned his nose up at the dried remnants he found there and started rubbing against Lesley’s ankles. She took the hint and opened the cupboard to get a can of cat food.

  “I always thought Rob was such a nice young man,” Rose said. “I guess it shows you never know.”

  “But we don’t really know what’s going on yet. It could all turn out to be a mistake.”

  The can opener hummed and Leo’s ankle rubbing intensified.

  “Really? But Sheila said they found all sorts of evidence that proved he was the one who stole the money.”

  Lesley rolled her eyes. “Nobody stole any money, Mom.”

  She scooped fishy paste into a fresh bowl.

  “Then what did he do?”

  “He says he didn’t do anything.”

  “People don’t get arrested for doing nothing.”

  Tiny anger lines appeared between Lesley’s eyebrows. She put the fresh food on the floor. Leo started smacking contentedly.

  “I don’t want to get into it all over again,” Lesley said. “The police found this, the police found that. It’s all anyone wants to talk about today.”

  Lesley started straightening up things on the counter, rearranging canisters that looked perfectly fine before she started.

  Rose pulled a package of cigarettes from her purse. She had one out and was thumbing her lighter before Lesley noticed.

  “I wish you wouldn’t do that here,” Lesley said.

  Rose stopped and let the flame die.

  “You’re right,” she said, busily stuffing everything back in her purse. “I forgot, I’m sorry. I’m just not thinking straight right now.”