TWENTY-FOUR
After Meredyth and Lucas had discussed every detail of Randy's call and their debate wound to a close, Lucas began pacing the small hotel room like a nervous puma, and she complained, “Will you sit down; light somewhere.”
He turned in mid-stride, his eyes clear and malevolent, but the malevolence was not directed at her, she knew. “Maybe we'd better find Bullock and Price, put it to them. See their reaction, you know, face-to-face, man-to-man, all that.”
“Yeah, and maybe with a woman present, we just might get a read on 'em, you mean?” she replied with a smile. “It might prove interesting. Still, I'm having a hard time believing that murder could be committed by an electronic cult over the Internet. Talk about wired… wired for murder…”
“Every other crime in the country has gone high-tech, so why not murder?”
Lucas telephoned Sheriff Hindman, who put him in touch with Bullock and Price, who agreed to meet them for dinner to talk over mutual interests in the case. The FBI men were staying at the landmark hotel, Alex Johnson, in downtown Rapid City. Lucas got the sense the men were counting coup. Bullock didn't rub it in or even say it aloud, but he and Price had been expecting their call.
“We'll be there by seven.”
“Meet us in the restaurant. We'll dine together on Uncle Sam,” offered Bullock.
“Yeah, well, Uncle Sam does owe my people a few meals,” Lucas said, trying to keep it light, gaining a grunt of understanding from Bullock before the man hung up.
Lucas and Meredyth stepped into the beautifully refurbished, turn-of-the-century hotel exactly at seven. The decor was rustic, early western, so much so that Meredyth felt strange to be walking on the carpet. It looked handmade, something that ought to be hanging in a museum. The same applied to the American Indian designs and paintings adorning the walls. Antlers and moose heads and stuffed deer, cougar and other animals also stared down from on high. Meredyth expected to see Teddy Roosevelt step through the next doorway.
They located the FBI men in the restaurant off the lobby. Bullock and Price looked as stiff and formal as ever, but they seemed pleased that the Texas authorities had come groveling to them. There were handshakes all around, and after ordering drinks and a look over the menu, Lucas brought up the possibility that some nutcases had formed an Internet club through which members were controlled and selected and told to murder people on an FBI list of cultists or vampire worshippers.
Bullock laughed in Lucas's face.
Price's frown deepened his wrinkles. “Give us a break, Stonecoat.”
“I thought we were here to share information, gentlemen,” Meredyth instantly reacted. “Now, it's no secret you're here because of the list, the Vampire List, and the fact that people on that list are being murdered by self-appointed vampire stalkers and demon killers. Isn't that right?”
Bullock bit his tongue and finally released the air he had inhaled, instantly dropping his poker face. “How the hell did you get that information?”
“Are we on the same side or not, Agent Bullock? Are you guys onto some sort of weird X-Files kinda case here or not?” pressed Lucas.
“All right… all right, we deal. You tell us what you know, we'll level with you about our interest.”
Between them, Lucas and Meredyth filled in the blanks for the FBI men. Both Price and Bullock listened with rapt attention, amazed at the amount of information pulled together by the duo.
By now the waiters had delivered four sumptuous dinners, two of stuffed salmon, two roast buffalo plates, Lucas having talked Meredyth into trying the unusual. She was pleased with the sweet flavor and that it was not tough, as she'd imagined, or fatty or greasy.
“We've been trying to locate these cultists on the Internet,” said Price, “have a team of the best minds in computer land working on it day and night, but we're dealing with people who really know how to hide their tracks.”
Bullock quickly added, “They're not sloppy like you see with the porno freaks on the Internet. They close up holes as they go, plugging us out. They're cleverly disguised bastards, these people.”
“At the same time, they have access to… to anyone,” Price assured.
Bullock added, “Anyone with a public persona. Anyone with a birth certificate, a driver's license, car registration, voter's registration, if you license your pet, get a divorce, file for bankruptcy, inherit property, they know about you, and they can stalk you.”
“The average person on a PC could build a whopping good picture of your life and your financial transactions for just a little trouble,” commented Price.
“Hell, nowadays, a single stop at a data company like CDB Infotek, for a five or twenty subscription rate you can scan hundreds of thousands of public record databases- electronic versions of county, state and federal court files,” continued Bullock.
“Matter of fact, there's a private investigation firm in your own city of Houston, Intertect, that can do in one hour what ten years ago would've taken a week,” agreed Price. “Employers hire these guys to check on prospective employees. But then again, Intertect isn't too particular who they take on as clients.”
'They can tell if you've ever been charged with fraud, were ever sued, or had ever sued anyone else. A nationwide search can quickly turn up assets, hidden or otherwise, such as a second home, luxury car or boat,” added Bullock. Lucas understood completely, saying, “If you're in an auto accident or injured in some other way, a lawyer might want to check you out to know how deep your pockets are.”
“Even information supposedly not available to the public is floating around out there on you.” added Price. “Your bank account and credit card numbers, your brokerage records-”
“Social security recs and tax returns,” offered Bullock.
“It's all an impostor needs to check your balances.”
“Despite federal law that restricts access to those with a… a legitimate need to know,” began Bullock.
“Such as prospective creditors, insurers, or employers,” added Price.
Lucas groaned and rolled his eyes. “But all anyone has to say is that they intend using the information for a legitimate purpose, and they're in, right?”
“So anyone answering yes can get the files?” asked Meredyth.
Bullock confessed with a rueful smile, “That's how Dan Quayle's credit history wound up in Business Week in 1989, yeah.”
“People, strangers to you, nowadays can turn up anything on you-the fact your home has a pool, the number of vehicles you drive, your political party affiliation, what charities you donate to, the magazines you subscribe to,” Price further explained.
“Not like the FBI would consider such tactics,” grumbled Lucas.
“All right, true, touch6 as they say. We led the way in this kind of surveillance, but now it's out there. Anyone surfing the Internet can play FBI,” countered Bullock. “Look, I was a special agent in the division of the Secret Service that investigates electronic financial crimes for seven years, and I don't trust my account number in Internet providers' files.”
“Hell,” grunted Price, opening up wider now, “there's fifty-six thousand IRS employees alone who have access to the computer system where taxpayer records are stored. Thirteen hundred of them were investigated in 1994 for snooping violations in the confidential records of their neighbors, friends and celebrities.”
“Some altered files to generate higher tax refunds for their friends,” volunteered Bullock.
“All the gibberish you see on an e-mail map… it maps out the path the commands have gone through. A system administrator or hacker-like the one you obviously have working for you”-Price pointed a finger-”at any way station can read a copy of your message, so it's downright insane to send information naked over the Internet.”