Unauthorized Access

by Andrew McAllister

  Shayna stepped in front of her friend, forcing Lesley to stop walking.

  “Stop it,” Shayna said, putting a hand on Lesley’s shoulder.

  Lesley pressed her lips hard into a thin line and took a deep breath through her nose. When she let it out she felt deflated, small.

  “You haven’t done anything wrong,” Shayna said.

  The caring look in Shayna’s brown eyes made Lesley feel a bit warmer.

  But only a tiny bit.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE WALK LIGHT turned green. Tim pedaled his bike across Commonwealth Avenue and headed for Rob’s apartment building. When he got close, he saw Rob waiting on the sidewalk next to the building’s parking lot, straddling his own bike. Tim’s gut clenched when he saw Rob, but Tim pasted on a supportive smile as he approached.

  “Hey,” Tim said as he stopped beside Rob. “How are you holding up?”

  Rob shrugged and grimaced. “You know. I’ve had better days.”

  “No kidding.”

  A car turned to enter the parking lot, which forced Rob and Tim to move out of the way.

  “So how far do you want to go?” Tim asked.

  Rob shrugged. “It’s supposed to rain soon. Let’s just play it by ear.”

  “Works for me. You lead the way.”

  Tim got to stare at Rob’s back for a while as they rode slowly at first to warm up, then started keeping pace with the cars. Once they passed by Boston College, Rob turned off Beacon Street. They normally wound their way through the smaller residential streets so they had less traffic to worry about. This allowed Tim to pull up beside Rob.

  “I was surprised when you called,” Tim said. “I figured you’d have other things on your mind today.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Rob said. “I needed this bike ride, I can tell you that.”

  “You mean there’s more that I don’t know about?”

  “Lesley and me, we … uh …” Rob clenched his lips together.

  “What?” Tim said.

  Rob lowered his head momentarily, then looked up and blinked his eyes. “Man,” he said, “this whole thing really sucks.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Rob took a deep breath and let it out.

  “We broke up,” he said.

  Guilt and exultation immediately went to war with each other inside Tim. It was hard to witness such misery, but on the other hand the door to Lesley was opening sooner than he would ever have dreamed possible. He looked away, not wanting to give Rob any sense of what he was feeling.

  “You’re not serious,” Tim said, his face sober once again.

  “Earlier today, after the arraignment.”

  “What happened?”

  “She won’t believe anything I tell her. She thinks I’m lying when I say I didn’t attack the bank.”

  “She’s just upset. I mean, who wouldn’t be?”

  “Yeah, but still. She should know enough to trust me.”

  A couple of cars passed by, which forced Tim to momentarily drop behind Rob. The two of them were biking more slowly than they normally did. Talk was taking precedence over exercise. When he was back beside Rob, Tim said, “What does your lawyer say? Is he going to be able to clear this up for you?”

  Rob looked disgusted. “He thinks I did it too. Keeps trying to talk me into pleading guilty so he can work out a deal with the prosecutor.”

  Tim struggled to show compassion while his insides kept up a violent wrestling match. “I always thought a lawyer was supposed to do his best to get you off, even if he thinks you’re guilty.”

  “He thinks the FBI has a strong case against me and we’ll lose.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “He’s talking about ten years worth of jail time, maybe more.”

  Tim shook his head somberly. “So what are you going to do?”

  “The only thing I can do is try to figure out who messed up AMS. That’s actually why I wanted to see you today. I was hoping you might be able to help.”

  “I will if I can.”

  A red light forced them to stop at an intersection.

  “I figure it must be someone we work with,” Rob said while they waited. “No one else would know all the details they needed to modify the system.”

  Tim struggled to keep his breathing calm. This was striking a little too close to home. But if Rob suspected his buddy, would he really be sharing his thoughts like this?

  “Yeah,” Tim said, “we figured it had to be someone on our team.”

  “Exactly. I was hoping you might have seen or heard something that I didn’t. Like maybe someone who has a grudge against me.”

  Tim tried to look concerned and thoughtful.

  “I can’t think of anyone,” he said. “I always thought you got along with everyone at work.”

  “Me too, but it seems I was wrong. I tried to talk to Paul and Anthony at lunchtime today. They’re ticked at me in a big way. Didn’t even want to see my face.”

  “Yeah, but that’s only since you were arrested. I don’t think they had anything against you before that.”

  “What about the others?” Rob said.

  Tim shrugged and shook his head.

  Rob sighed. “I thought between the two of us we might be able to figure out some likely candidates.”

  Tim glanced sideways at his ‘friend’s’ face. The circles under Rob’s eyes were darker than Tim had ever seen before. Everything about Rob said stress, from the expression on his face to the lack of energy he was putting into the bike ride. Tim felt hollow inside.

  * * *

  Ray Landry could see the tops of the two biking helmets. He had pulled his car to the side of the street well back from Rob and Tim. He took a sip from a bottle of water as he waited for them to start moving again.

  The presence of Tim was only a minor irritant. Landry could wait until Rob and Tim parted ways before he made his move. The more pressing problem—the one occupying Landry’s full attention—was the Chevy Impala that Landry had noticed when the two young men left Rob’s apartment.

  The watchers supplied by Doug Gourley had paid off almost immediately. They had called as soon as Rob arrived home, giving Landry plenty of time to get there before Tim arrived. Landry had hung well back as he followed, as was his custom. In this case his habit worked out well when he noticed the dark blue Impala shadowing every turn taken by the bikes. This meant Landry simply had to keep the Impala in sight.

  Landry suspected they were FBI. It made sense. He would put a tail on Rob if he were in charge of the case. Rob could have accomplices and the FBI would be very interested in making their acquaintance. But this put a major crimp in Landry’s plans. How was he supposed to make the snatch when Rob was being watched?

  Landry turned a few scenarios over in his mind. They all led to the same conclusion. He needed more help.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  SPECIAL AGENT PRADOLINI sat relaxed in the passenger seat while his partner drove. Rob and his friend were a little more than a block ahead of them. As far as the two agents could tell, the two young men seemed to have no idea they were being followed. Since leaving Rob’s place they had driven in a large loop and were now headed back the way they had come. The traffic light ahead was red and the Impala slowed to a stop behind a couple of other cars.

  “Looks like it’s going to be a long night,” Pradolini said.

  Special Agent Beck inclined his head in agreement as the light turned green. “They always are.” The cars started moving and Beck eased forward along with them.

  “Could be worse,” Pradolini said. “At least we can get the Braves game on the radio later.”

  “Not a chance,” Beck said with a grin. “The Celtics are on.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Pradolini took his attention away from the two cyclists and looked at his partner in amazement. “I’m talking about the league championship series and you want to listen to some preseason game? That’s not American.”

 
“So sue me. I can’t help it if—”

  A powder blue Ford Taurus cut him off in mid-sentence when it ran a red light and hit their front right fender with a loud crunch. The Impala lurched violently to the left and came to an abrupt halt.

  Pradolini’s face stung from the impact of the air bag. He untangled himself and looked over at Beck, whose nose was bleeding.

  “Where the hell did that come from?” Pradolini said.

  Beck didn’t bother to answer. He yanked open his door and got out. Pradolini’s door was jammed shut. By the time he managed to shove it open, Beck and the man from the Ford were faced off with each other on the side of the street. Broken glass lay scattered at their feet in a growing puddle of radiator fluid.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Beck said.

  “I’m really sorry,” the man said. “I didn’t see you.”

  Beck whipped out his ID and shoved it in the man’s face.

  “You just impeded an FBI investigation.”

  The man’s face went white and he started shaking his head. “But … I didn’t mean to … it was an accident.”

  “Let me see some ID,” Beck said.

  The man fumbled his wallet out of his back pocket and held it open for Beck to have a look.

  “Douglas Gourley,” Beck read aloud.

  Pradolini shook his head and walked away, leaving Mr. Douglas Gourley to handle the fired-up Beck as best he could. Once he was out of earshot, Pradolini pulled out his cell phone. His call was answered on the first ring.

  “Steeves here.”

  “Yeah. It’s Pradolini. We just lost the tail on Donovan.”

  Pradolini winced and held the phone away from his ear.

  * * *

  Rob waved goodbye to Tim, rode into the parking lot of his apartment building and stopped next to his car. He sat slumped on the bike, not caring as the drizzle that had been falling for the last ten minutes strengthened into a steady rain. He had never felt so dejected.

  With a conscious effort, he willed himself to get moving. He opened the zippered pouch under the bicycle seat and pulled out his keys and his wallet, which he slipped into a pocket of his hoodie. Then he popped open the rear hatch of the Pathfinder and lifted the bike into its usual spot in the back.

  As he headed toward the building, a dark Buick sedan pulled up in front of him. The driver stepped out sporting the bushiest mustache Rob had ever seen. The thing completely obscured the man’s mouth. The guy was tall with curly, graying hair and wore a black suit with a red tie. Rob’s gaze kept returning to the expanse of hair on his upper lip.

  “You’re Rob Donovan, right?”

  Rob took half a step back. Now what?

  The man flashed an ID in Rob’s direction.

  “Special Agent Reynolds, FBI,” he said. The ID disappeared back inside the suit. “Steeves sent me to pick you up. He needs to talk to you.”

  Reynolds opened the back door of the Buick and stood holding it expectantly.

  “You tell Steeves I’ve heard enough from him for one day,” Rob said.

  He started to walk past but the agent moved in front of him.

  “There’s been a break in your case,” Reynolds said, “some new information that looks like it will clear you. Steeves needs to talk with you right away to confirm it.”

  The breath caught in Rob’s throat. His pulse started to race. Could this really be true?

  “Clear me?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “Why didn’t he just call me?”

  “There’s something he needs to show you, so he sent me to pick you up.”

  Rob’s head swam. What could they possibly have found?

  “At least let me run inside to throw on a dry shirt and grab my phone.”

  “There’s no time,” Reynolds said. He gestured impatiently toward the back seat. “Hop in.”

  Rob hesitated one last time but the chance to escape his nightmare was irresistible. He climbed in.

  Reynolds slammed Rob’s door, got in the front seat and drove away quickly. Rob felt a stab of unease when he noticed the door handles and lock buttons were missing in the back seat. But wasn’t that standard practice in all police vehicles?

  * * *

  Tim dropped the newly purchased pastrami on the kitchen counter and looked at his father in mock amazement. Eldon sat at the kitchen table slurping tomato soup. Red drips from the lid had fallen on the counter next to the empty can. The lid still hung from the magnet on the electric can opener.

  “Will you look at that,” Tim said. “Next thing you know you’ll be off to chef school.”

  Eldon swallowed the last spoonful.

  “Or off to become a comedian like you,” he said.

  He pushed himself up and shuffled off into the living room.

  Tim carried the dirty dishes to the sink. His father reappeared in the kitchen holding a lit cigarette.

  “Oh, I forgot,” Eldon said. “Your girlfriend phoned. She wants you to call her.”

  Tim quickly dropped the bowl into the dishwasher.

  “Why didn’t she call my cell?”

  Eldon shrugged. “How should I know?”

  Tim pulled out his cell phone. This was great. So quickly. Tim had thought he would have to do all the calling.

  No answer. After the beep he said, “Hi, it’s Tim. Dad said you called. Sorry I missed you. You can call me back anytime.”

  Tim followed his father, who had drifted into the living room and turned on the TV.

  “How long ago did she call?” Tim asked.

  “Half an hour maybe.”

  “What exactly did she say?”

  “Just that she wanted to talk to you.”

  “But she didn’t answer her cell. Are you sure it was Lesley?”

  “What’s wrong with your ears, boy? I told you Kirsten called.”

  “No, you said—”

  Then Tim realized his mistake. In his mind he had already moved on from Kirsten. And now Kirsten’s phone call to the apartment made sense; Tim had been ignoring her calls to his cell.

  “I guess I was confused,” Tim said. “Kirsten and I split up.”

  “Dumped you, huh? I’m not surprised, way you treat her.”

  Tim rolled his eyes.

  “I dumped her, Dad.”

  “What made you think I was talking about Lesley? Isn’t she Rob’s girl?”

  “She was, but they’re having troubles. You know, with Rob getting arrested and everything.”

  “What’s that got to do with you?”

  Everything, Tim wanted to say, but as usual he took the safe way out.

  “Nothing, I guess.”

  Eldon just gave him a skeptical look.

  * * *

  Ray Landry grunted and leaned forward as another wave of cramps rolled through his gut. He gripped the steering wheel more tightly. They were getting worse. He could feel a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

  “You okay?” Rob asked from the back seat.

  “Yeah, just gas or something.”

  The Buick’s tires rumbled as they bounced along the rough South Boston street. The wipers slapped at the raindrops on the windshield. A chain link fence overgrown with bushes surrounded a Ryder truck depot on their left. Landry turned a corner and stopped in front of a similar fence with a doublewide gate and barbed wire along the top. A large metal sign on the fence proclaimed this to be McCutcheon’s Truck & Heavy Equipment Repair.

  Inside the gate was an empty parking lot in front of a dirty brick building with four oversized garage doors. McCutcheon’s had obviously gone out of business some time ago. Landry left the car idling as he got out and unlocked the shiny new padlock on the gate. He had cut the old one off earlier in the day when he had checked out the place. After driving into the lot, Landry swung the gate shut again and then parked in front of the building next to a steel door with a metal-grated window in the top half. A sign over the door said Office. He got out and opened the back door of the c
ar for Rob, who stood up and gazed at the building with a look of bewilderment.

  “What are we doing here?” Rob said.

  Landry shrugged. “All I know is Steeves said to bring you here, so that’s what I’m doing.”

  Rob looked around at the empty parking lot.

  “But why? There’s no one else here.”

  “He’s meeting us here soon.” Landry headed for the building. “Come on. Let’s go inside and get out of the rain.”

  Rob couldn’t see where he had much choice. He followed Landry toward the door.

  Landry had picked the door lock earlier and left it unlocked. He pulled the door open and held it for Rob to go ahead of him into the building. Once Rob passed him, Landry pulled out his nine-millimeter and smashed it into the side of Rob’s head. Rob crumpled to the floor. Landry stepped over him, then reached back to close and lock the door.

  They were in an office space that contained a half dozen wooden desks, assorted office chairs and a few metal filing cabinets. A faded calendar still hung on the wall with a scantily clad pinup girl on the top half and November 2009 on the bottom. Landry flicked a switch and two rows of fluorescent lights added to what little light filtered in through the dusty windows.

  Landry picked out a dilapidated wooden chair with arm rests and metal casters, and rolled it over to where Rob lay on the floor. Grasping one wrist, Landry pulled Rob away from the doorway, then reached under Rob’s shoulders to hoist him into the chair. Using the coil of nylon rope he had left on one of the desks earlier, Landry lashed Rob’s wrists and ankles to the chair.

  Rob would awaken soon. Landry hadn’t hit him hard enough to do any serious damage. In the meantime, Landry pulled out his gun again, walked through the interior office door and searched the rest of the building to make sure the place was still deserted. The last thing he needed was for some bum to have happened upon the unlocked door and taken up residence.

  Satisfied they were alone, Landry returned to the office, picked out a chair for himself and placed it in front of Rob. He was about to sit down when another bout of cramps made him grab his gut.