The Scarecrow

McGinnis didn’t respond. He was reading the document. Carver reached up and ran his hands through his hair. He needed to know what was in that warrant and how close they were. He tried to calm down, reminding himself that he was prepared for this. He even expected this. He knew more about the FBI than the FBI knew about him. He could start right there.

He killed the feed and then the screen. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out the stack of monthly server volume reports his staff had prepared earlier in the week. Usually he filed them away until McGinnis asked for them and then he sent them up with one of his server engineers on his way out for a smoke. This time he would make the delivery himself. He tapped the stack on the desk and made the corners sharp, then he left and locked his office.

In the control room he told Mizzou and Kurt, the two engineers on duty, where he was going and then went out through the mantrap. Thankfully, Freddy Stone was not on shift until the evening, because he could never come back to Western Data. Carver knew how the FBI worked. They would take every name of every employee and run it through their computers. They would learn that Freddy Stone was not Freddy Stone and they would come back for him.

Carver wasn’t going to allow that. He had other plans for Freddy.

He took the elevator up and entered the administration suite with his head down, reading the top page of the stack of reports. He nonchalantly looked up as he came in and saw through the open door of McGinnis’s office that he had company. He pivoted and went to his secretary’s desk.

“Give these to Declan when he’s free,” he said. “But no hurry.”

He turned to leave the suite, hoping the motion of his pivot move had drawn the attention of McGinnis through the doorway. But he got all the way to the main door without being called.

He put his hand on the knob.

“Wesley?”

It was McGinnis, calling from his office. Carver turned around and glanced back. McGinnis was behind his desk, waving him into the office.

Carver entered. He nodded to the two men and completely ignored Chavez, whom he considered a worthless diversity hire. There was no place for Carver to sit but that was all right. Being the only one standing would give him a command presence.

“Wesley Carver, meet Agents Bantam and Richmond from the FBI’s Phoenix office. I was just about to call down to the bunker for you.”

Carver shook hands with the men and repeated his name politely each time.

“Wesley wears a number of hats around here,” McGinnis said. “He’s our chief technology officer and the one who designed most of this place. He’s also our chief threat officer. What I like to call our-”

“Do we have a problem?” Carver cut in.

“We may,” McGinnis said. “The agents have been telling me that we’re hosting a website here that is of interest to them and they’ve got a warrant that allows them to see all documentation and records pertaining to its setup and operation.”

“Terrorism?”

“They say they can’t tell us.”

“Should I go get Danny?”

“No, they don’t want to talk to anybody in design and hosting just yet.”

Carver put his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat because he knew it gave him the posture of a deep-thinking man. He then addressed the agents.

“Danny O’Connor is our chief of design and hosting,” he said. “He should be brought in on this. You’re not thinking he’s a terrorist or something, are you?”

He smiled at the absurdity of what he had just suggested. Agent Bantam, the larger of the two agents, responded.

“No, we’re not thinking that at all. We’re on a fishing expedition here, and the fewer people brought into it, the better. Especially from the hosting side of your business.”

Carver nodded and his eyes flicked momentarily in the direction of Chavez. But the agents didn’t pick up on it. She remained in the meeting.

“What is the website?” Carver asked.

“Trunk murder dot com,” McGinnis answered. “I just checked and it’s part of a larger bundle. An account out of Seattle.”

Carver nodded and kept a calm demeanor. He had a plan for this. He was better than them because he always had a plan.

He pointed to the screen on McGinnis’s desk.

“Can we take a look at it or would that comp-”

“We would prefer not to at this point,” Bantam said. “We think it could tip off the target. It is not a developed site. There’s nothing to see. But it’s a capture site, we believe.”

“And we don’t want to be captured,” Carver said.

“Exactly.”

“May I see the warrant?”

“Sure.”

The document had been returned to Bantam while Carver was coming up from the bunker. The agent took it out again and handed it to Carver, who unfolded it and scanned it, hoping he was not giving anything away with his face. He checked himself to make sure he wasn’t humming.