CHAPTER 9 BREAKFAST WITH THE CHIEF

Ed looked down at his right pant leg. There was a dark, slowly spreading wet spot on his thigh. Though numb, it didn't feel like he'd been shot. It felt more like shrapnel, a stone, or other debris picked up in hustling Max to the car. Regardless, it was going to hurt later. Curiously, it reminded him of Vietnam. Everyone he knew from that time carried shrapnel in them. He still had problems going through a metal detector because no matter how careful, doctors never were able to pick it all out. It certainly didn't feel like he needed to go to the hospital. The Chief hated hospitals, and so did Ed. The Chief especially didn't like Ed Brown's frequency in the hospital. Neither did Ed Brown.

"Stop at your place, man?" Mark asked.

Better get to the office to let the Chief know what happened. Can I borrow a pair of your pants?"

"Hey, no way are you going to mess up a pair of my trousers."

"I'll pay the cleaning bill for you. If I don't get into the office on time, the Chief will have my head, and you know it. Besides, you called me to help."

"Ok, you can borrow a pair of jeans."

"How 'bout a shirt, tie, and a jacket."

"Anything else? Shoes, socks, jockey shorts?"

"Nope, I'm good."

Max smiled. The banter told him, despite Sanger's irritation about Ed borrowing clothes, how much these two liked each other. He knew that Mark Sanger would give Ed Brown much more than a shirt loan, and after Brown had hauled him into the car, saving him from the sniper, understood that Brown would do the same.

Mark pulled into an underground garage and parked next to a van. The sign posted on the wall read, "Reserved for Chief Ironside." Max got out of the car and saw a handicapped lift where the rear passenger door should be. He stared at it until Ed grabbed his arm and guided him into the elevator.

The elevator opened, and they came out on a small entryway. Across it was a door. "Chief Robert T. Ironside" was painted on it. Sanger opened the door revealing a ramp. Max could see two bedrooms, a bath, and ample open space with a kitchen, desks, and a round oak table centering it. Ed motioned to the table. Max pulled out a chair and sat down.

Mark busied himself in the kitchen making coffee, opening the refrigerator to take out eggs, bread, bacon, and butter, and clanking pans as he took out a large frying pan, heated it, and dropped slices of bacon into it. The sizzle and smell made Max hungry. He got up from his seat and went to the kitchen counter where Sanger was cooking.

Mark pointed at the toaster. "Make yourself useful, kid.

Max made toast and poured coffee. A short time later, the Chief appeared, dressed for work. He gave Max a look that made him feel like he'd just been x-rayed.

"Officer Sanger, good morning; mind telling me where you've been?"

"Assisting with a citizen in distress."

"And this young man is?"

"Maddox Morgan, our citizen in distress."

"Also known as 'Mad Max,'" The Chief finished.

"The boy blinked. "How- uh, how did you know?"

"According to our IT Tech, your reputation precedes you."

Max came out from behind the counter.

"Young man," Ironside continued, "a lot of people in this building would like to meet you and either shake your hand or throw you into a cell, lock the door and throw the key into San Francisco Bay."

"And you would?"

"You're in trouble. I want to help you before the FBI comes and talks with you."

Ed came out of Mark's room, showered, and dressed in clean clothes. "Morning, Chief. I, uh, see you've met Max."

Ironside paused to look at his aide. "Showered here, wearing Mark's clothes. How badly did you hurt yourself this time?"

"It's a scratch and patched. I'll be fine."

"Meaning," the Chief replied, "someone followed Mark or Max to the meeting spot and shot at you."

Ed nodded in agreement. "Most likely, Max is my thought."

"Let's get breakfast over; then, Max, we'll chat."

A half-hour later, Eve Whitfield entered the office to find her three office mates looking intently at a teenager busy eating as if he hadn't seen food for weeks.

"And who might this be?" She asked before giving her usual cheery good morning.

"This is Max. The one that made your life difficult for you the other day." Mark said.

Eve gave the boy a direct look. "I want ten minutes alone with him."

"As I told you, Max. Officer Whitfield is in the category of those who want to take you to a cell. However, Eve, we need to hear Max's story; then we'll decide what to do."

"Should I call Fran?" Eve asked.

"No, why don't you go out to lunch with her instead and catch up on things. This "Apostle" may have a connection to the case she's working, and, if so, neutral places are the safest."

Eve nodded, took off her coat, and got a cup of coffee. Sitting at the table, she had a pad and pen ready for notes.

"Alright, Max, begin."

"It started a few weeks ago when I hacked into the USATA bank in Miraloma Park. I moved money around various accounts, then moved it back. No one lost anything; I just did it to see if I could. I was trying out a new program, a veil. It made it look like your money was gone, but it really wasn't. Then over the next few days, I got some creepy comments in a chatroom. Then I got the emails. Some guy calling himself "Apostle." He claimed he knew what I'd done and that he lost 45K. I needed to replace it. I hacked into the bank again; no, I'd put it back in his account. I told him that the money was there. I'd only veiled it ... It was all still there. But somehow, when I stopped veiling, it didn't immediately take with this guy's account. Then I got this the other day." Max pulled out his iPad, quickly typed in a password, and pulled up a saved document.

"I got this." He set the iPad down so they could see the message from the man who called himself "Apostle."

Greetings Max,

You are the person who removed $45,000.00 from my bank account at the Usata Bank the other night and neglected to return it. I suspect you are also responsible for several other recent attacks on Bay Area computers, including the one early this morning on the computers of the San Francisco Police Department. Yes, I know, that was supposed to be a secret, but it's been talked about all day in those tiresome little chat rooms. I require someone with your abilities. Keep the money; consider it a down payment. Decline this offer, and I will make certain your father will be charged under the Patriot Act for terrorist acts and crimes against the United States Government. Edward Snowden will look like an Eagle Scout compared to him.

You will receive instructions shortly about meeting my messenger. Attempting to backtrack this message to the source in order to find me will result in the release of a major malware attack that will ultimately be traced back to computers belonging to your father and his company.

Go to the police, and you will be visiting your father in federal prison.

Be seeing you.

Apostle

Ironside and his team looked at the message.

"Eve, call Rick Trombley. Tell him he's been assigned temporarily to my office. Let IT know that there might be a second, more serious attack on our system. Mark, you and Ed, take Max and go to the house. Pack suitcases and collect all the computers, flash drives, phones, everything. Find Max's dad and bring them both back here for safekeeping."

Ed gulped a last cup of coffee and stuck a piece of toast in his mouth as he, Mark, and Max, dashed up the ramp to the elevator.

Ironside turned to look at Eve. "I think our adversary knows who Max is, and we now have a clue as to who the Apostle might be. I've changed my mind; call Fran on a secure line. Meet her at the gallery and start setting up your cover. Tell her to stay away from her apartment and the HS office until I say it's alright. Then you, young lady, are not coming back here until we get our hands on the Apostle and his alter ego. If he knew where Max was this morning, I don't want him to know how you earn your paycheck, understand?"

Eve smiled. "I can take care of myself."

"Yes, and so can Fran, Mark, and Ed. I want some insurance. Carl Reese will call you when you're at the gallery. He owes me a favor, and he's got a safe house perfect for the two of you."

"No girls gone wild, then I take it."

"Not at this address."

Eve got her coat and purse. "I'll wait for Carl's call."

Ironside smiled. "Take care." He watched as she walked up the ramp. As the door closed behind her, he began to wonder what he and his team had gotten themselves into and how dangerous the man known only as the Apostle was.