Troy Burke might have been old-school, but he never undervalued technology. It had become essential to his job in any number of ways: communications, evidence-gathering, and of course, keeping up with criminals who themselves leveraged technology to reach their nefarious ends. There was also the matter of legal process—FBI agents had to know what kinds of searches and evidence would stand up in a court of law. Which was why, as he stood watching EPIC go through its paces, he did so with a jaundiced eye.
“Do I have to explain how many laws you’re breaking?” he asked.
Over the last twenty minutes, Claire and Atticus had performed an illegal wiretap on a phone in a nursing home in Virginia, pilfered records from a DOD database, and hacked into the tablet computer of a presidential candidate.
“Want us to stop?” Claire asked.
Burke said nothing.
“The fingerprint comparison is running,” Atticus said.
As an alternative to DNA, Burke had suggested that a fingerprint match might be better for verifying Bryce Ridgeway’s identity. As a method of correlating identical twins, it was much like DNA: siblings displayed highly similar patterns, but with discernable variations. Bryce’s true fingerprints had been on file with the Army since his commissioning, and Claire had no problem acquiring them. Then came the bigger challenge: obtaining a comparison print from his supposed twin.
Claire had suggested targeting a tablet computer, recently issued to the candidate by his campaign, that utilized a thumbprint as a security measure to unlock its screen. EPIC, leveraging a secret NSA initiative, quickly identified the tablet and determined that it was cell enabled with a strong connection. From there it was a matter of exploiting a known security flaw to pry out what they needed. One thumbprint, reduced to its digital form, was right there for the cyber taking.
Burke and Claire were looking over Atticus’s shoulder when the results flickered to the screen.
“There it is,” she said. “Very similar thumbprints, but not a perfect match.”
“How accurate is the software you’re using for that determination?” Burke asked.
“We’re actually using IAFIS,” she said, referring to the FBI’s own Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System.
Burke snorted a humorless laugh. “Of course you are.”
“Is that enough proof?” she asked.
Burke thought about it at length, trying to comprehend a case that was patently incomprehensible. He saw a solid foundation to question Bryce Ridgeway’s identity. But what to do about it? The entire theory was surreal, and none of the evidence they had so far had been acquired through legally valid means. It was a conundrum like none Burke had ever faced. Did he launch an investigation? Bring Alves in? Take it to his boss, Assistant Deputy Director Anne Fields, head of the D.C. Field Office?
An alert chimed on Claire’s monitor. She checked it, and said, “It’s Sarah calling my cell.” Owing to the building’s tight security, even Claire checked her cell at the door. Yet via EPIC, Atticus had rigged a remote repeater to advise her of inbound calls. She configured the system to shunt the call through secure VOIP software and put it to speaker.
Claire said, “Hey, Sarah. What’s up?”
“It’s Bryce, or whoever he is … he’s got Alyssa!”
“Whoa, whoa,” Claire said. “From the beginning.”
Sarah went over her failed meeting with Walter, then explained how Bryce had picked up Alyssa with no coordination.
“I thought he was on the road,” Claire said.
“He’s supposed to be.”
“Do you know where they are now?”
“I have no idea.”
Claire flicked a finger toward Atticus who was already typing.
“Okay, we’ll try to get a fix on them.”
“I’ve tried calling them both. Neither answers.”
Burke edged closer. Sarah was clearly distraught, and he didn’t want to complicate things by joining the conversation. He scrawled a note on the pad on Claire’s desk. Tell her to go home—they might be there.
Claire nodded. “Head home, Sarah. Hopefully that’s where they are.”
“All right. Call me if you hear anything. I have a really bad feeling about this, Claire. I keep thinking about that guy we saw at the condo—he’s helping this imposter. He showed up right after we left, and now the condo’s burned to the ground, the cameras are gone, and Alyssa is missing. I’m telling you, they know we’re onto them.”
“Okay, yeah … it looks that way. But we have to keep thinking straight.”
“I tried to call Agent Burke but he didn’t pick up. We need to tell him what’s going on—we need his help.” Sarah ended the call.
Claire and Burke exchanged a look. Before either could comment, Atticus broke in. “She’s right. I show the tablet and the congressman’s phone both local now. Looks like long-term parking at Reagan National Airport. I also came across a press release from the campaign.” He read from his screen, “‘Congressman Bryce Ridgeway is suffering from a minor case of the flu. He will be suspending travel for the next three days. A full and expedient recovery is expected, and all cancelled campaign events will be rescheduled.’”
Burke saw Claire looking at him imploringly.
“Okay,” he relented. “It’s time to kick this upstairs.”