Page 80 of Grave Danger
It wasn’t technically coercion, but even a rookie lawyer with the most basic ability to read judicial tea leaves would have gotten the message.
“I anticipate no objection,” said Beech.
“Good,” said the judge. “We’ll begin at one o’clock, barring the unexpected.”
The lawyers were dismissed.
Jack rose and started toward the door, well aware that, in this case, “unexpected” had a meaning all its own.
Andie stared at her computer screen, confused.
She couldn’t count the number of times, over the span of her career, that she’d accessed the FBI’s Integrated Automated Fingerprint IdentificationSystem (IAFIS), Interstate Identification Index, and other data systems administered by the FBI’s Criminal Justice Information Services Division. The system was designed to provide a binary response: “No record found,” or a “hit.” Her search for the name Brian Guthrie had produced a response she’d never seen before.
“What the hell?” she asked, though no one was there to hear.
She retyped Guthrie’s name and was about to run it through the database a second time—but something made her pause. Technically, an FBI agent’s use of the system was limited to “official business.” She was not one to break rules, at least not without good reason. Curiosity was not a good enough reason, but her need to know was way beyond mere curiosity. If someone wanted to make the case that Guthrie was not her “official business,” so be it.
She hitenter. In seconds, the same message reappeared on her screen.
locked.
Andie considered the range of possibilities. It didn’t necessarily mean that Brian Guthrie had a criminal record. His fingerprints could have been collected for noncriminal reasons, like a background check for employment. The only thing for certain was that he was in “the system,” and anyone in the system stayed there at least until age ninety-nine if there was a criminal record, age seventy-five if there was none. Yet Guthrie was “locked.” Andie supposed it could have had something to do with negotiations for his release from an Iranian prison, but she wanted to know for certain. She could think of only one person to call. She dialed his cell, and he picked up. He sounded happy to hear from her—until she mentioned Guthrie, her search of the FBI database, and the confusing result. He stopped her in mid-sentence.
“Andie, what the heck were you thinking when you made this call?”
“I’m just asking you a generic question about the system.”
“You’re asking me about Brian Guthrie.”
“I’m asking about information in the database, which is not classified.”
“It is if it’slocked,” he said, his voice rising.
It wasn’t the harshest tone Isaac had ever used with her, but it was upthere with the time she’d rushed in to make an arrest without waiting for backup from the rest of the Seattle bank robbery squad.
“I’m not trying to put you in an awkward position,” said Andie.
“You never should have run Guthrie’s name through the system. Just because a hundred thousand searches a day go through the system doesn’t mean no one is watching.”
“Watching? Are you saying I’m beingwatched?”
A tense silence followed, and then, finally, he answered.
“Andie, what was the last thing I told you when we talked at the airport?”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by “the last thing,” but she remembered the most important: “You said Guthrie was arrested the day after the Iranian government claims Ava Bazzi escaped from prison.”
“No, the last thing. What did I say right after that?”
His last words didn’t come to mind. Isaac filled in the blank.
“I told you that you’re on your own from here on out,” said Isaac. “Remember?”
“Understood. I won’t call you again.”
“I didn’t say don’t call me.”
“You said I’m on my own.”