The Last Day

TWENTY-SIX

Gene Duncan's arrival made Ward feel better, but not for long. A contingent of no fewer than twenty FBI agents and other personnel arrived minutes before his attorney, moving through the building in ones and twos searching the offices. FBI computer techs, armed with laptops and other electronic equipment, hooked up to the RGI servers and sat typing as they stared intently at illuminated screens.

In the three hours since the virus's release, media vehicles had made their parking lot look like the streets outside the L.A. courthouse during the O. J. Simpson trial. The television viewing public was fast becoming aware that the virus had originated from a system serving a NASCAR- related business right smack on the buckle of the Bible Belt. The pundits descended.

As unnatural disasters went, this one was way off the charts, so RGI's name was fast becoming a household word, and not in a good way. Ward's suspicion was that someone was out to destroy his company, and this was probably going to accomplish just that. It was noon before it was Ward's turn with the interviewing agents, and Gene Duncan was at his side. The agents who'd arrived with the initial warrant, Mayes and Firman, were in charge. They interviewed Mark, Leslie, and the company's techs before they got around to Ward.

Agent Firman, whose expression was as unreadable to Ward as Chinese characters painted on a wall, was doing the talking.

Firman said, “Mr. McCarty what we've established so far is that the virus originated here in this building.”

“You think someone here did this?” Ward asked incredulously.

“Obviously someone did this to damage the company,” Gene railed.

Firman asked, “Do you have any enemies, Mr. McCarty?”

“Flash Dibble has been trying to buy this company for six months,” Ward said. “I have refused to sell it. Maybe he figured if he couldn't have it, he'd destroy it to lower the price, or start another company using our pissed- off clients as his base. Yesterday I told his son I'd never sell to them. He threatened me.”

“Flash Dibble's son is trying to destroy your company? Okay, it's a theory,” Firman said, writing. “Our techs tell me that the images seem to be mostly Russian pornography. Is your Mr. Dibble a Russian mobster?”

“It makes as much sense as anything else,” Gene said. “The threat was veiled, but it sure sounded like a threat to me. Couldn't anyone with the knowledge create the virus? That is something that could be purchased. What about Trey Dibble? Who else would want to destroy a company that he can't buy? He's a malicious brat.”

“Destroying it would certainly be a lot cheaper than paying twenty- two million,” Ward said.

Firman reached into a sack and removed a glassine envelope with a padded envelope in it. Ward could read his own name on the front, above his home address, complete with canceled stamps. The return address wasn't one he was familiar with.

“We found this in your desk,” Firman said.

“I've never seen it before,” Ward said.

“My techs tell me that the CD inside this envelope was the source of the virus. Our techs have tracked the virus's point of origin to one desktop computer here, Mr. McCarty Yours.”

Ward felt as though he'd been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. “That's impossible,” he protested, feeling suddenly nauseated.

“When someone put this disk in your computer, it infected your servers, and spread and sent e-mails containing the virus to the addresses in all of the computers in the building.”

“You can't think I did it?” Ward asked, stunned. “I didn't use my computer yesterday except to check e-mails, and I haven't put any CDs into it in ages.”

“Based on what we know, it's possible you did,” Firman said. “I don't say so, the evidence does. I'm sure whoever did it didn't do it on purpose. If you did it, you obviously didn't know when you looked at it that it contained a Trojan horse that waited some amount of time before it came to life. I strongly suspect you, or someone not yet identified, just wanted to look at the porn, but whomever you, or someone else, got it from played a dirty little trick on you, or them. I strongly suspect that you, or someone else yet to be identified, is a pervert who's going to spend some quality time in a federal prison.”

Ward said evenly, “I've never seen that envelope before.”

Gene said, “So even if Ward received the envelope-and who knows what was originally inside it-and inserted it into his computer, you can't prove he knew its contents. And he says he's never seen it before, so you have to prove that isn't the case. Anybody could have put the CD inside the envelope. You have no case against Mr. McCarty.”

“If he's never seen either, then your client's prints won't be on the envelope or the disk,” Firman said. “And naturally it doesn't have a label saying what it is. That would be a first. There will be more evidence, I suspect, and then we'll have more to go on.”

“Okay, Agent Firman. If it's true, and he knew, for argument's sake,” Gene said, “and it certainly isn't, why would he be stupid enough to keep that CD in his office?”

“I don't know, Mr. Duncan. I'll check with the Behavioral Science Unit. Maybe-theoretically speaking, of course-he thinks his office is safe. According to his computer logs, he's visited questionable pornography sites for the past year.”

“I've never visited any pornography sites,” Ward said.

Gene put his hand on Ward's forearm. “Are you placing my client under arrest?” he asked the agent.

“Not yet,” Firman said. “But we'll need to take Mr. McCarty's fingerprints for exclusionary purposes.”

“No problem,” Ward said, quickly.

“A polygraph would help to clear him,” Agent Mayes added.

“I'd be happy to,” Ward said.

“My client will not be taking any polygraph,” Gene said.

“Why not, if he isn't guilty?” Firman asked.

“Because it isn't admissible,” Gene said. “And we all know there's good reason for that.”

“You aren't a criminal attorney, are you, Mr. Duncan?” Agent Firman drawled.

Ward said, “I have absolutely nothing to hide.”

“Oh, Mr. McCarty,” Firman said, smiling for the first time since he'd come into the building. “It's pretty obvious that your lawyer doesn't believe that's the case.”