“What would the next step be?” Angela asked.
“I suppose the easiest would be social security,” Robert said. “But hacking into their data banks is a bit trickier. But it’s not impossible, especially since I have a friend here at MIT who is conveniently working on database security for various government agencies.”
“Do you think he’d help?” Angela asked.
“Peter Fong? Of course he’ll help if I ask him. When do you want this stuff?”
“Yesterday,” Angela said with a smile.
“That’s one of the things I always liked about you,” Robert said. “Always so eager. Come on, let’s go see Peter Fong.”
Peter’s office was hidden away at the rear of the fourth floor of a cream-colored stuccoed building in the middle of the MIT campus.
It looked less like an office than an electronics laboratory. It was filled with computers, cathode ray tubes, liquid crystal displays, wires, tape machines, and other electronic paraphernalia Angela couldn’t identify.
Peter Fong was an energetic Asian-American with eyes even darker than Robert’s. It was immediately obvious to Angela that he and Robert were the best of friends.
Robert handed Peter the list and told him what they wanted. Peter scratched his head and pondered the request.
“I agree social security would be the best place to start,” Peter said. “But an FBI database search would also be a good idea.”
“Is that possible?” Angela asked. The world of computer information was new to her.
“No problem,” Peter said. “I’ve got a colleague in Washington. Her name is Gloria Ramirez. I’ve been working with her on this database security project. She’s on line with both organizations.”
Peter used a word processor to type out what he wanted. Then he slipped it into his fax. “We usually communicate by fax but for this she’ll respond by computer. With that amount of data it will be faster.”
Within minutes, data was pouring directly into his hard disk drive. Peter pulled some of the material up onto his screen.
Angela looked over Peter’s shoulder and scanned the screen. It was a portion of the social security record on Joe Forbs, indicating the recent jobs he’d held along with his payments into the social security pool. Angela was impressed. She was also dismayed at how easy it was to get such information.
Peter activated his laser printer. It began spewing forth page after page of data. Robert walked over and picked up a sheet. Angela joined him. It was the social security file on Werner Van Slyke.
“Interesting,” Angela said. “He was in the navy. That’s probably where he got his tattoo.”
“A lot of the enlisted men think of a tattoo as a rite of passage,” Robert said.
Angela was even more surprised later when the criminal records began coming in on another printer. Peter had to activate a second machine since the first was still busy with the social security material.
Angela hadn’t expected much criminal information since Bartlet was such a small, quiet town. But like so much else about Bartlet, her assumption was wrong. The most significant item, as far as she was concerned, was the discovery that Clyde Devonshire had been arrested and convicted of rape six years earlier. The incident had taken place in Norfolk, Virginia, and he had served two years in the state penitentiary.
“Sounds like a charming fellow to have in a small town,” Robert said sarcastically.
“He works in the ER at the hospital,” Angela said. “I wonder if anyone knew of his record.”
Robert went back to the other printer and rummaged through the data until he found Clyde Devonshire’s information.
“He was in the navy too,” Robert called over to Angela, who was transfixed by the criminal material still coming out. “In fact, the dates seem to indicate that he was in the navy when he was arrested for rape.”
Angela stepped over to Robert to look over his shoulder.
“Look at this,” Robert said as he pointed to the sequence of dates. “There are a number of gaps in the social security history after Mr. Devonshire got out of prison. I’ve seen records like this before. Such gaps suggest that he either did more time or was using aliases.”