The Broken Window

police officer explained, “There’ve been several murders recently. We think information from SSD was used in planning the crimes.”
    “Information?”
    “About the victims’ whereabouts, some items they’d bought.”
    Curiously Mameda’s next question was “Are you talking to all the employees?”
    How much to tell, how much not to? That was one thing Pulaski never knew. Amelia always said it was important to grease the interview wheel, to keep theconversation going but never to give too much away. After the head injury, he believed his judgment had worsened and was nervous about what to say to wits and suspects. “Not all of them, no.”
    “Just certain ones who’re suspicious. Or you’ve decided ahead of time are suspicious.” The employee’s voice was defensive now, his jaw tight. “I see. Sure. Happens a lot nowadays.”
    “The person we’re interested in is a man, and he has full access to innerCircle and Watchtower. We’re talking to everyone who fits that description.” Pulaski had figured out Mameda’s concern. “Nothing to do with your nationality.”
    The attempt at reassurance missed the mark. Mameda snapped, “Ah, well, my nationality is American. I’m a U.S. citizen. Like you. That is, I assume you’re a citizen. But maybe not. After all, very few people in this country were here originally.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    Mameda shrugged. “Some things in life you have to get used to. It’s unfortunate. The land of the free is also the land of the prejudiced. I . . .” His voice faded as he glanced past and above Pulaski, as if someone were standing behind him. The cop turned slightly. No one was there. Mameda said, “Andrew said he wants full cooperation. So I’m cooperating. Could you ask me what you need to, please? It’s a busy evening.”
    “People’s dossiers—closets, you call them?”
    “Yes. Closets.”
    “Do you ever download them?”
    “Why would I download a dossier? Andrew wouldn’t tolerate that.”
    Interesting: the wrath of Andrew Sterling was the first deterrent. Not the police or the courts.
    “So you haven’t?”
    “Never. If there’s a bug of some sort or the data are corrupt or there’s an interface problem, I may look at a portion of the entries or the headers but that’s it. Only enough to figure out the problem and write a patch or debug the code.”
    “Could somebody have found your passcodes and gotten into innerCircle? And downloaded dossiers that way?”
    He paused. “Not from me they couldn’t. I don’t have them written down.”
    “And you go to the data pens frequently, all of them? And Intake too?”
    “Yes, of course. That’s my job. Repair the computers. Make sure the data are flowing smoothly.”
    “Could you tell me where you were on Sunday afternoon between twelve and four?”
    “Ah.” A nod. “So that’s what this is really about. Was I at the scene of the crime?”
    Pulaski had trouble looking at the man’s dark, angry eyes.
    Mameda put his hands flat on the table, as if he were going to rise in anger and storm out. But he sat back and said, “I had breakfast in the morning with some friends. . . .” He added, “They’re from the mosque—you’ll probably want to know.”
    “I—”
    “After that I spent the rest of the day alone. I went to the movies.”
    “By yourself?”
    “Fewer distractions. I usually go alone. It was a film by Jafar Panahi—the Iranian director. Have you ever see—” His mouth tightened. “Never mind.”
    “You have the ticket stub?”
    “No . . . After that I did some shopping. I got home at six, I’d guess. Checked to see if they needed me here but the boxes were running smoothly so I had dinner with a friend.”
    “In the afternoon did you buy anything with a credit card?”
    He bristled. “It was window-shopping. I got some coffee, a sandwich. Paid cash for it . . .” He leaned forward, whispered harshly, “I don’t really think you asked everybody all these questions. I know what you think of us. You think we treat women like animals. I can’t believe you’d actually accuse me of raping someone. That’s barbaric. And you’re insulting!”
    Pulaski struggled to look Mameda in the eye as he said, “Well, sir, we are asking everybody with access to innerCircle about their whereabouts yesterday. Including Mr. Sterling. We’re just doing our job.”
    He calmed slightly but continued to fume when Pulaski asked his whereabouts at the times of the other