The Serpent's Kiss

59

The professor at Stanford was being a dick, thought Agent Janice Beckwith. He was a near stereotype of the arrogant college professor, with a thick beard, brown hair swept off his forehead and worn a little long. He had an attitude that left arrogant in the dust, well on its way to megalomania. He wore college professor clothes, as well, khaki slacks, a white button-down shirt, a brown corduroy sport coat with patches on the sleeve. But even more than that was his posture, which was so upright he practically leaned backward, the better to peer down his nose at her. This was a guy who took himself entirely too seriously.

“I’m not sure I understand what you want. And you said you were with the FBI?”

“Department of Homeland Security,” Agent Beckwith said, pleasantly enough. “And I felt I was very clear. I need access to Professor Schultz’s office.”

Dr. Jameson Lloyd, the bearded professor, shot her a knowing look. “And you have a search warrant?”

“I don’t need one,” she said. “You, as an educated man, are certainly aware of the provisions under Statute 831C-3 of the U.S. Patriot Act allowing for non-warranted searches under two provisions, the first being, and I quote, ‘instances of imminent national security.’ The second provision is known as the ‘hot-pursuit proviso.’”

Dr. Lloyd blinked. “I see…”

Agent Beckwith met his gaze unflinchingly. “You are familiar with these statutes, correct?”

“Of course,” Lloyd said. “Of course. Yes. Well, then, yes, let me find someone to take you to Dr. Schultz’s office.”

“I’ve been there. I can find the way. Thank you very much.”

“Of course. Please proceed.”

She shouldered past him, not letting a smile mar her face. Dr. Lloyd wasn’t much of a poker player, but Beckwith was. She had just bluffed him, not the first time she had used the fictional Statute 831C-3 in convince people to give her permission to do what she pleased.

She found Schultz’s office, which was unlocked. She pushed her way into a large, rectangular room piled with loose papers, books, folders and technical journals. It was as if somebody had taken the contents of a Dumpster and shaken it out over the room. Yet, it wasn’t like the office had been ransacked. There was a sort of organized feel to the mess. She didn’t doubt that Schultz knew exactly where everything was, that he had some sort of system for organizing things.

She was thankful she didn’t have to find what she was looking for among the papers. Beckwith glanced at her watch. It was 12:52 P.M. Pacific Standard Time. The Serpent was going to strike in eight minutes.

Without wasting another second she settled into Schultz’s old, battered desk chair and punched on his computer. From her briefcase she withdrew her tablet computer, a computer disk and a flash disk. Sure enough, it was as she suspected: Schultz had password protected his computer.

She slipped the disk into the drive and waited. After about thirty seconds, the program had located the password and opened the computer files. She scanned the programs, checking Documents. Despite all the paper scattered about the office, Schultz had placed a lot of his work on his computer. She quickly scanned through over a hundred files in Documents alone, not including hundreds of photographs and music files.

She clicked on the search option and typed in “Center for Biological and Chemical Terrorism Research.” The computer began to churn through the hard drive.

“Agent Beckwith.”

Professor Lloyd had returned with another faculty member, a severe woman in a flowered-print dress, steel-gray hair pulled back in a bun, with glasses on a cord dangling from her scrawny neck.

Beckwith glanced at the two of them, took in the time—12:54 P.M. — and pulled her handgun out of its clip and pointed it toward the ceiling. In a flat voice she said, “Step back. Close the door.”

The woman gasped. “I’m calling security.”

The clock turned to 12:55 P.M. A computer window opened. Search Completed.

On her feet in one fluid motion, Beckwith kicked the door shut and locked it. She popped the flash disk into a USB port on Schultz’s computer and downloaded all the files to it, then transferred the files to her tablet computer.

Good to go, she thought, reaching for her phone.