“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?”