Banning stared at me, his face contorted.
“Jesus H. Christ, Camden,” Poulton said. “What kind of stunt is this?”
“I’m not sure how you prefer to handle this, Deputy Director,” I said. “But protocol would be to remove Director Banning from office, at least temporarily while I question him.”
“The hell you will,” Poulton said.
I looked to Frank, but his mouth was agape.
“You’re relieved of your command in this investigation,” Poulton said to me.
“I would ask that you let Agent Camden explain himself,” Frank said.
“Why doesn’t he start by explaining himself to you, Roberts? You’re his boss, and you obviously had no idea what he was about to say.” Poulton looked to Frank, his lip twisted in a sneer. “Isn’t that your job, Roberts? To control these … brilliant freaks who report to you?”
I was listening to their face-off, but my eyes had remained on Banning. He had crossed the room to the desk. Flipped open his laptop. Now he was examining something on the screen.
“He’s right, Craig,” the director said, his mouth a wide circle.
Poulton looked over, and the room went quiet.
“Of course I’ve never checked out those cases.” Banning pointed at his screen, exasperated. “But I’m on the screen with my case search history. And here I am, checking them out.”
My eyes were on the director. “Does your secretary know your password?”
“No,” Banning said.
“Your wife or children?”
“Of course not.” The director shook his head.
“Jesus,” Poulton said. “This is the sort of issue you bring up to your superior, Camden. You get that information five minutes ago? You bring it up five minutes ago.”
“On Tuesday, I was assigned as senior lead on this case,” I said to Poulton. “I received an email at 7:39 p.m. eastern standard—”
“Roberts, what’s he talking about?” Poulton cut in.
“His direct report changed,” Frank mumbled. “To William Banning, the director of the FBI. The same person who checked out the files.”
I turned to them. “You see, then? My conflict?”
“Craig,” Banning said, spinning his laptop so it faced us. “Look at these time stamps. We were in a Senate intelligence meeting for six hours on Thursday.” He looked at me. “You see this, right, Camden? Even if I got a hankering to cut up some shit-bird and put him in Ziplocs, I couldn’t have logged in at two twenty-one.”
“You have an assistant?” I asked. “Someone who knows your schedule?”
“Olivia does. But I already told you. She doesn’t know my—”
“We need to cross-reference where you were physically,” I said, “with the location of every IP address that logged into your account.”
“You think someone spoofed the director’s account?” Frank asked. “That they’re logging in from somewhere else?”
“Presuming Director Banning is innocent,” I said, “it’s the only possibility.”
Banning let me behind his computer, and I examined the two dates when Tignon’s and Fisher’s files had been accessed.
January 14 was the first.
“This is the day I arrived in Texas,” I said to Frank. “Mad Dog was logging in to see who was assigned the case.”
Frank shook his head, almost surprised we were right. “You see any other times when he could’ve—”
“Two days ago,” I said. “The sixteenth.”
“It’s how he knew you were at the Dallas office,” Frank said, bouncing on his heels.
“I’m getting on the horn with Tech.” Poulton stood up. “I’ll get the director’s password changed out, stat.”
I turned to Poulton. “Operationally,” I said, “that’s unintelligent.”
The deputy director blinked, his voice spiking. “What did you just say?”
Frank flicked his eyebrows at me. Careful.
“Our killer is using Director Banning’s credentials,” I clarified. “The worst thing we could do right now is change them.”
Poulton’s voice rose again. “And continue to let a madman inside our system?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Tech should assign Director Banning a new ID but leave his old one active. We can wall off appropriate areas. National security.”
“Easy enough,” Banning said.
“You’re gonna allow some nut—”
“Gentlemen,” I said. “We don’t have a solid lead on this guy. So Mad Dog logging in again—that’s the best pipeline to him. Understand? Operationally, it’s…”
Poulton’s face was red. “Yeah, I got it, Camden,” he said. “Unintelligent.”
“What do you recommend, Gardner?” Frank asked.
“Have every field office ready to roll on a location,” I said. “The next time Mad Dog logs in as Banning, we track his IP. Pick him up.”
An IP, or internet protocol address, doesn’t necessarily reveal a location. Still, it can provide a geolocation: a city or zip code from which someone was accessing the internet. It would also provide the internet service provider, who would work with the FBI to pinpoint an exact location.
The director stood up, seemingly as an indication for us to get going. “This investigation has leveled up, gentleman. If someone has gotten to my clearance level, I have serious concerns about FBI security.”
“I’ll put a task force together,” Poulton said.
“Good,” Banning replied. “Have Camden lead it. Frank, play support.”
“Bill?” Poulton’s face was scrunched up, his mouth almost in a smirk. “I understand we have different management styles, but I don’t think anyone wants PAR leading this…”
Banning turned to Poulton. “Management style’s got nothin’ to do with it, Craig. You still don’t understand why I put Camden on this, do you?”
“Honestly,” Poulton said. “No.”
“It’s called vision. First, mine in picking him. Then his, in coming here and showing us some psycho’s gotten into our system. Posing as me. When I leave this office, Craig—if I leave—you can start your management style. Until I retire, we do it my way.”
Banning surveyed the three of us, a stoic look on his face. The FBI’s recruitment numbers had run low, and Banning had put himself in an advertisement for the Bureau, one that touted his history and acumen as a profiler.
“I got a breakfast meeting to get to. This Mad Dog fella may think he’s smart, but we’re smarter. Am I correct?”
“Yes sir,” I said.
“So let’s get hands on this guy and toss the key.”
Banning turned and left the room via the side door he’d come in from. When he was gone, Poulton lifted his eyes from the floor. His ears were a shade of crimson.
“Craig,” Frank started to say.
But Poulton cut him off. “Sooner or later, the old man’s gonna be gone,” he said. “If you two fuck this up, just know that I’ll set up an office on the moon so I can send you both there.”