Then another explanation dawned on me.
“Now you get the picture.” Peever was smiling, but without any warmth. “Still think your new buddy was getting rid of bugs, Marc?”
Wednesday. Late afternoon.
PEEVER SENT THE OTHER AGENT OUT OF THE ROOM AND FOR THE next few minutes I stayed still, pinned to the ground as if the force of gravity had increased by a thousand percent.
When Peever’s guy returned, he was carrying a black box, like an old-fashioned transistor radio. He set it at the center of my desk, flicked a switch, checked its display, then nodded.
“OK.” Peever pointed to the box. “This thing will block the signal of anything else that’s transmitting in here. It means we can talk.”
No one said anything, giving me a respite to focus on Peever in the hope of escaping my mental merry-go-round. It struck me that if McKenna would be at home working in a bank, this guy would be better suited to delivering your groceries. He was around six foot, but looked shorter because he was so stocky. His two-day stubble didn’t match his swept-back bleached hair, which looked like it had been transplanted from a My Little Pony doll. And neither could deflect attention from the unruly straggle that was escaping from his undone top button.
“Specifically, it means you can talk.” Peever swiveled around on one heel and jabbed his finger in my direction. “Let’s start with your computer.”
“Which one?”
“The one the detectives impounded, yesterday. Who knew they’d taken it, aside from yourself? Who did you tell?”
“Nobody. Except for McKenna.”
“Not your wife? She doesn’t know?”
“No. I haven’t spoken to my wife since before the break-in.”
“Why not?”
“She’s been tied up. With work. Her company won big at—never mind. But why? What does it matter who knew?”
“It matters because your computer’s been stolen.”
“Stolen?” I almost laughed at him. “No. The police have it.”
Peever didn’t reply.
“Wait. You mean, it’s been stolen from the police?”
“Someone broke into the evidence locker and took it.” Peever frowned. “Have you got any idea how much juice it takes to pull off a thing like that?”
“How would I?”
“It takes a lot. Believe me. Which tells us that someone with major-league connections was desperate to get their hands on your computer.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I shook my head. “The only valuable thing on it was my prototype, and that had been erased by whoever broke in here. Which was why I called the police in the first place.”
“Maybe that is why you called them.” Peever waggled his finger at me. “But you weren’t expecting them to take your computer. The detectives’ report says you were surprised, and reluctant to let it go.”
“Only because I needed it for work.”
“That’s not the full story, is it? You realized there was something else on the computer. Your problem wasn’t what’s missing. It was what’s still there.”
“This makes no sense.” I’d never liked people who spoke in riddles.
“Who did you call? Who else is involved? One name. Give me one name—one that leads somewhere—and it’ll go a long way toward making things easier on you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Have you ever seen the movie Titanic, Marc?”
“Yes. I guess. But what the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“You know what happens at the end, when the ship’s hit the iceberg? It’s going down, and one of two things can happen to the passengers. They can get on a lifeboat. Or they can drown. Well, I’m the guy who decides if you get on a lifeboat.”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Do I need to draw you a picture? What am I wearing?”
“A delivery guy’s uniform.”
“Correct. And you didn’t hesitate when you saw me at your door, because …?”
“I was expecting a delivery.”
“Two for two. Only there’s something you don’t know. Your delivery came already.” He tapped his watch. “Earlier, when the detectives were here, waiting to break the news about your first computer being stolen.”
“My delivery came? Then where’s my stuff?”
“At the police lab.”
“What the hell? Why? And if they opened it and interfered with my private property without a warrant—”
“We had no need to open anything.” Hayes’ voice sounded thin and shrill after Peever’s booming foghorn. “Not to know what was inside. The contents are listed on the waybill.”
“What did you think, Detective?” Peever turned to her. “One computer disappeared before your lab could take a look at it. And someone went to elaborate lengths to hide another one from you altogether.”
“I thought, this looks like bullshit. And it smells like bullshit. And in my book, that makes it bullshit. In other words, probable cause. So we impounded the computer. Sent it to the lab. And told them, this time, get on it right away.”
“But I didn’t hide anything!” I caught myself almost shouting.
“You did.” Peever was emphatic. “You mailed the second computer to yourself.”
“The one I was using at AmeriTel? No. I didn’t mail that.”
Peever pulled a computer printout from his pocket and handed it to me. It took a moment to scan the form, but when I found the shipper’s details I saw my own name and address. At first I was baffled, but then it hit me. Those bastards at AmeriTel. They’d done it that way to make me pay for the shipping instead of them. They wouldn’t even pick up the tab for returning my own property after they’d fired me.
“This isn’t right. I know how it looks, but—”
“It was very smart.” Peever pretended to applaud. “The perfect way to hide something. To make sure it wasn’t here when the detectives came the first time, in case they snooped around. Or at your office, in case they looked there.”
“Look, I didn’t mail that computer.” I could feel the heat building in my face. “But even if I did, so what? It’s just a computer. Who cares who mailed it? Ask Roger LeBrock. The CEO of AmeriTel. I wanted to bring the computer home with me, Monday, after I was fired, but LeBrock wouldn’t let me. He insisted on shipping it. Talk to him. He’ll confirm it.”
“Maybe we will.” Peever sucked his lower lip for a second. “But things move on. Who shipped the computer isn’t the issue anymore. Remember, Marc—the lab’s seen it. They know what’s on it. Therefore, I know what’s on it. And if you want a chance to save yourself, you need to tell me who put it there.”
“Who put what where? There are lots of applications on that computer. Dozens. Some are very specialized. Maybe—”
“It’s not an application we’re interested in, Marc.”
“What, then? I can’t remember every piece of software on every computer I’ve ever owned! But whatever’s caught your eye, I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation.”
“Really?” He passed me another piece of paper and a pen. “Read that. Then start writing. I want names.”
CONCLUSION: THE PRESENCE OF A MALICIOUS PROGRAM CAN BE CONFIRMED ON THE COMPUTER EQUIPMENT PRESENTED FOR EXAMINATION. NO NON-MALICIOUS PURPOSE FOR THE PROGRAM CAN BE IDENTIFIED. NO EXAMPLES OF PROGRAMS WITH SIMILAR OR RELATED STRUCTURE, METHOD OF CONCEALMENT, OR METHOD OF PROPAGATION HAVE BEEN OBSERVED BY U.S. AUTHORITIES TO THIS DATE. AS THE FULL EXTENT OF THE PROGRAM’S PURPOSE OR CAPABILITY IS NOT YET KNOWN, AND DUE TO THE EXTREME HAZARD IT APPEARS TO REPRESENT, ALL POSSIBLE MEASURES SHOULD BE TAKEN TO ENSURE ITS CONTAINMENT.
I passed the paper back to Peever.
“This is your big discovery? My computer had a virus? Big deal. Computers pick up viruses all the time.”