Or do intentions count for something? Certainly it had never been my intention to create a security incident and then use that as a selling point to the banks. I continued to contemplate my role in the EFT incident as I sat there alone in that small bare room.
After a time the door opened. I was too exhausted and dejected to look up. I heard them walk in. I saw the multiple pairs of feet as they crossed the room in front of me. There were three pairs of black wing-tip shoes and one pair of white sandals and stockings. I looked up.
Lisa!
What was she doing here? I looked into her eyes, but she only met my gaze with a cold stare. I felt a chill. Did she turn me in?
“This is the man you know as Carl Raymond, correct Ms. Cryer?” the big man asked.
“Yes,” she answered. Her voice was strong and assertive, her manner calm and confident.
“Carl has confessed to you that he tampered with EFT transmissions between First Chicago Trust and Bendix of St. Louis on July 11th, correct?”
“Yes,” she answered once more.
Why was she doing this? Why turn me in? I hadn’t done anything to lose her trust. She had been willing to give me a chance to repair the damage. What caused her to change her mind?
“You are certain this is the man?”
“Yes, I am certain,” she replied levelly. Her manner reinforced her words.
“Thank you Ms. Cryer,” said the big man. She turned on her heel abruptly and left without even a glance in my direction. I’m not sure what the remaining two agents said next. They were talking but I wasn’t listening. Why did she do it? Why? She had been so cold. Was she an undercover agent? No, they had treated her as an outsider. An informant then? Damn her whatever she was!
Had she told them of her own involvement, I wondered bitterly. She had written most of the code for BIF and deep-throat. These were part of an unauthorized investigation. Both BIF and deep-throat processed data that neither Lisa nor I were authorized to see. First Chicago Trust did not know that Rudy Levinski had taken it upon himself to mount his own investigation. Lisa had shown no hesitation in helping Rudy in his effort. She had been so friendly the other day in Rudy’s office. The three of us had worked well as a team. Why turn on me now? We were making progress!
I closed my eyes tight and leaned my head back in my arms. In the space of a few hours everything had come unraveled. Now, in all likelihood, I would be imprisoned and Rudy would fare no better. BIF and deep-throat would be confiscated. The FBI, with no understanding of sophisticated computer crimes and cryptology, would bumble the case. The millwright would succeed in pulling off the perfect crime. I would be made the scape-goat for the FBI while Rudy would be forced to take the fall for First Chicago Trust. It would have been better for both Rudy and me if Lisa Cryer had not become involved at all. Had she refused to speak to me on that first day when I buzzed her apartment, I would be no worse off — and most likely better off — than I was now. To turn me in at this point was a remarkable display of bad timing.