Double Cross

Chapter 52

“BRADY, IS EVERYTHING OKAY?” a high-pitched female voice asked Thompson from behind us.

“It’s fine, Ms. Blanco. I don’t need any help. Thank you, Barbara.” He motioned for us to come inside. “Close the door, please.”

As soon as we were alone with him, his voice went up a step too. “What are you people doing? This is my place of business.”

“Do you know why we’re here?” Bree asked.

“I know exactly why you’re here. Because I exercised my First Amendment rights. I didn’t break any laws, and I’d like you to leave. Now. You all remember the way to the door?”

Sampson stepped forward. “Brady, is it?” He looked over the things on Thompson’s desk as he continued. “I was just wondering how your bosses here might feel about that creepy little Web site of yours. You think they’ll be cool with it?”

Thompson pointed an index finger at him. “I haven’t done anything illegal. I’m well within my rights.”

“Yeah,” Sampson said. “That really wasn’t my question, though. I just wondered how your employer might feel about SerialTimes.net.”

“You have no right to use that information if I haven’t broken the law.”

“In fact, we do,” I put in. “But we’re assuming we won’t have to, because we’re assuming you’re going to tell us where that message came from.”

“First of all, Detective, I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to. DCAK’s not an idiot, okay? Haven’t you figured that out for yourselves by now? And second, I’m not fifteen years old. You’ll have to do better than you’re doing. A lot better.”

“Do you mean like a subpoena for your home system?” Bree asked. “We can do that.”

Thompson adjusted his glasses and sat back now, beginning to like the position he was in. I could see why. I wasn’t sure that we could get a subpoena for his home system, much less arrest him. “Actually, no. Assuming you don’t have your subpoena with you-probably because you were just too damn eager to get over here-I can make sure that my server doesn’t have anything more than Peanuts cartoons on it by the time you get there. And I don’t even have to leave this chair to do it.”

He looked up at us, calm as could be now. “You obviously don’t know much about information transfer.”

“Do you know what the hell is going on out there in the real world?” I finally said. “Do you have any interest in seeing someone like that murderer stopped?”

“Of course I do,” he snapped back. “Stop insulting my intelligence and think about it for a second. The big picture? Constitutional rights-your rights, my rights-hinge on exactly this kind of thing. I have the right to do everything I did, and I don’t just mean that morally. It’s your job to uphold the Constitution, Detectives, and it’s our job, as citizens, to make sure that you do. See how it works?”

“See how this works?” Sampson lunged, but we caught him in time. Everything on one side of Thompson’s desk went flying.

Brady stood up, a bit brazen even, as Sampson stared at him. “I think we’re done here,” he said.

But Sampson wasn’t. “You know what -”

“Yes,” Bree said. “We’re done, Brady. For the moment, anyway. We’re leaving.”

As we turned to go, Thompson spoke again, more conciliatory than before. “Detectives? You obviously think my little posting is real or you wouldn’t be here. Will you just tell me if it has something to do with the iconography?” This guy was a true fan, a real freak. He couldn’t help himself, could he?

Bree couldn’t help herself either. With the door halfway open and a small crowd of office workers gathered behind her, she turned to face Braden Thompson.

“I can’t comment on that, sir. Not at this time. But let me reassure you that we won’t mention your Web site, SerialTimes.net, anywhere outside this office unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Bree smiled at Braden Thompson, then lowered her voice. “Keep on living, fucker.”