Jeffery Deaver - The Broken Window

“I can give you the name of a book to read about it. There’s this author Richard Dawkins and he-”

“Don’ wanna read no fuckin’ book. Take yo’ word fo’ it, Mr. Jersey Man.”

Arthur really felt like tapping fists now. But he refrained. He asked, “What’s your mother going to say when you tell her?”

The round black face screwed up in astonishment. “I ain’ gonna tell her. That’d be fucked up. You never win no arguments ’gainst yo’ mother.”

Or your father, Arthur said to himself.

Johnson then grew serious. He said, “Yo. Word up you din’t do what they busted you fo’.”

“Of course not.”

“But you got yo’ ass collared anyway?”

“Yep.”

“The fuck that happen?”

“I wish I knew. I’ve been thinking about it since I got arrested. It’s all I think about. How he could’ve done it.”

“Who’s ‘he’?”

“The real killer.”

“Yo, like in The Fugitive . Or O.J.”

“The police found all kinds of evidence linking me to the crime. Somehow the real killer knew everything about me. My car, where I lived, my schedule. He even knew things I bought-and he planted them as evidence. I’m sure that’s what happened.”

Antwon Johnson considered this and then laughed. “Man. That yo’ fucking problem.”

“What’s that?”

“You went out an’ you bought ever’thing. Shoulda just boosted it, man. Then nobody know shit what you about.”

Another lobby.

But a lot different from SSD’s.

Amelia Sachs had never seen anything quite so messy. Maybe when she was a beat officer, responding to domestics among druggies in Hell’s Kitchen. But even then a lot of those people had had dignity; they made the effort. This place made her cringe. The not-for-profit organization Privacy Now, located in an old piano factory in the city’s Chelsea district, won the prize for slovenly.

Stacks of computer printouts, books-many of them law books and yellowing government regulations-newspapers and magazines. Then cardboard boxes, which contained more of the same. Phonebooks too. Federal Registers.

And dust. A ton of dust.

A receptionist in blue jeans and a shabby sweater pounded furiously on an old computer keyboard and spoke, sotto voce, into a hands-free telephone. Harried people in jeans and T-shirts, or corduroys and wrinkled work shirts, walked into the office from up the hall, swapped files or picked up phone-message slips and disappeared.

Cheap printed signs and posters filled the walls.

BOOKSTORES: BURN YOUR CUSTOMERS’ RECEIPTS, BEFORE THE GOVERNMENT BURNS THEIR BOOKS!!!

On one wrinkled rectangle of art board was the famous line from George Orwell’s novel, 1984, about a totalitarian society:

Big Brother Is Watching You.

And sitting prominently on the scabby wall across from Sachs:

GUERRILLA’S GUIDE TO THE PRIVACY WAR

· Never give out your Social Security Number.

· Never give out your phone number.

· Hold loyalty card swap parties before you go shopping.

· Never volunteer for surveys.

· “Opt out” every chance you can.

· Don’t fill out product registration cards.

· Don’t fill out “warranty” cards. You don’t need one for the warranty. They’re information gathering devices!

· Remember-the Nazis’ most dangerous weapon was information.

· Stay off the “grid” as much as possible.

She was digesting this when a scuffed door opened and a short, intense-looking man with pale skin strode up to her, shook her hand and then led her back into his office, which was even messier than the lobby.

Calvin Geddes, the former employee of SSD, now worked for this privacy rights organization. “I went over to the dark side,” he said, smiling. He’d abandoned the conservative SSD dress code, and was wearing a yellow button-down shirt without a tie, jeans and running shoes.

The pleasant grin faded quickly, though, as she told him the story of the murders.

“Yep,” he whispered, his eyes hard and focused now. “I knew something like this would happen. I absolutely knew it.”

Geddes explained that he had a technical background and had worked with Sterling’s first company, SSD’s predecessor, in Silicon Valley, writing code for them. He moved to New York and lived a nice life as SSD skyrocketed to success.

But then the experience had soured.

“We had problems. We didn’t encrypt data back then and were responsible for some serious identity thefts. Several people committed suicide. And a couple of times stalkers signed up as clients-but only to get information from innerCircle. Two of the women they were looking for were attacked, one almost died. Then some parents in custody battles used our data to find their exes and kidnapped the children. It was tough. I felt like the guy who helped invent the atom bomb and then regretted it. I tried to put more controls in place at the company. And that meant that I didn’t believe in the quote ‘SSD vision,’ according to my boss.”

“Sterling?”

“Ultimately, yes. But he didn’t actually fire me. Andrew never gets his hands dirty. He delegates the unpleasantries. That way he can appear to be the most wonderful, kindest boss in the world… And as a practical matter there’s less evidence against him if other people do his butchery… Well, when I left I joined Privacy Now.”

The organization was like EPIC, the Electronic Privacy Information Center, he explained. PN challenged threats to individuals’ privacy from the government, businesses and financial institutions, computer providers, telephone companies, and commercial data brokers and miners. The organization lobbied in Washington, sued the government under the Freedom of Information Act to find out about surveillance programs, and sued individual corporations that weren’t complying with privacy and disclosure laws.

Sachs didn’t tell him about the data trap Rodney Szarnek had put together but explained in general terms how they were looking for SSD customers and employees who might be able to patch together dossiers. “The security seems very tight. But that was what Sterling and his people told us. I wanted an outside opinion.”

“Happy to help.”

“Mark Whitcomb told us about the concrete firewalls and keeping the data divided up.”

“Who’s Whitcomb?”

“He’s with their Compliance Department.”

“Never heard of it. It’s new.”

Sachs explained, “The department is like a consumer advocate within the company. To make sure all government regulations are complied with.”

Geddes seemed pleased, though he added, “That didn’t come about out of the goodness of Andrew Sterling’s heart. They probably got sued once too often and wanted to make a good show for the public and Congress. Sterling’s never going to give one inch if he doesn’t have to… But about the data pens, that’s true. Sterling treats data like the Holy Grail. And hacking in? Probably impossible. And there is no way anybody could physically break in and steal data.”

“He told me that very few employees can log on and get dossiers from innerCircle. As far as you know, is that true?”

“Oh, yeah. A few of them have to have access but nobody else. I never did. And I was there from the beginning.”

“Do you have any thoughts? Maybe any employees with a troubling past? Violent?”

“It’s been a few years. And I never thought anybody was particularly dangerous. Though, I’ve got to say, despite the big happy family façade Sterling likes to put on, I never really got to know anyone there.”