Double Cross

systems analyst with a firm called Captech Engineering. We double-parked outside Captech’s dull, modern-looking building, then took the elevator up to the fourth floor.
    “Braden Thompson?” Bree asked the receptionist, and held up her MPD badge and card.
    The woman picked up her phone, her eyes still on Bree’s creds. “I’ll see if he’s available.”
    “No, no. He’s available, trust me. Just point the way. We’ll find him. We’re
detectives
.”
    We walked calmly and quietly through the bustling office but didn’t make any less of a scene for it. Secretaries’ heads turned, office doors opened, and workers checked us out as if we were here with the take-out food.
    A white plastic plaque etched with Thompson’s name marked a windowed office on the north side of the building. Bree opened the door without knocking.
    “Can I
help
you?” Braden Thompson was about what you’d expect for somebody working here: paunchy, fortysomething white guy in a short-sleeved shirt and tie, possibly a clip-on.
    “Mr. Thompson, we’d like to talk with you,” Bree said. “We’re Metro Police.”
    He looked past her at me and Sampson. “All three of you?”
    “That’s right.” Bree was inscrutable. And the truth was, none of us wanted to miss this interview. “You’re an important guy.”

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