“The police found all kinds of evidence linking me to the crime. Somehow the real killer knew everything about me. My car, where I lived, my schedule. He even knew things I bought-and he planted them as evidence. I’m sure that’s what happened.”
Antwon Johnson considered this and then laughed. “Man. That yo’ fucking problem.”
“What’s that?”
“You went out an’ you
Chapter Twenty-three
Another lobby.
But a lot different from SSD’s.
Amelia Sachs had never seen anything quite so messy. Maybe when she was a beat officer, responding to domestics among druggies in Hell’s Kitchen. But even then a lot of those people had had dignity; they made the effort. This place made her cringe. The not-for-profit organization Privacy Now, located in an old piano factory in the city’s Chelsea district, won the prize for slovenly.
Stacks of computer printouts, books-many of them law books and yellowing government regulations-newspapers and magazines. Then cardboard boxes, which contained more of the same. Phonebooks too. Federal Registers.
And dust. A ton of dust.
A receptionist in blue jeans and a shabby sweater pounded furiously on an old computer keyboard and spoke, sotto voce, into a hands-free telephone. Harried people in jeans and T-shirts, or corduroys and wrinkled work shirts, walked into the office from up the hall, swapped files or picked up phone-message slips and disappeared.
Cheap printed signs and posters filled the walls.
BOOKSTORES: BURN YOUR CUSTOMERS’ RECEIPTS, BEFORE THE GOVERNMENT BURNS THEIR BOOKS!!!
On one wrinkled rectangle of art board was the famous line from George Orwell’s novel,
Big Brother Is Watching You.
And sitting prominently on the scabby wall across from Sachs:
GUERRILLA’S GUIDE TO THE PRIVACY WAR
· Never give out your Social Security Number.
· Never give out your phone number.
· Hold loyalty card swap parties before you go shopping.
· Never volunteer for surveys.
· “Opt out” every chance you can.
· Don’t fill out product registration cards.
· Don’t fill out “warranty” cards. You don’t need one for the warranty. They’re information gathering devices!
· Remember-the Nazis’ most dangerous weapon was information.
· Stay off the “grid” as much as possible.
She was digesting this when a scuffed door opened and a short, intense-looking man with pale skin strode up to her, shook her hand and then led her back into his office, which was even messier than the lobby.
Calvin Geddes, the former employee of SSD, now worked for this privacy rights organization. “I went over to the dark side,” he said, smiling. He’d abandoned the conservative SSD dress code, and was wearing a yellow button-down shirt without a tie, jeans and running shoes.
The pleasant grin faded quickly, though, as she told him the story of the murders.
“Yep,” he whispered, his eyes hard and focused now. “I
Geddes explained that he had a technical background and had worked with Sterling’s first company, SSD’s predecessor, in Silicon Valley, writing code for them. He moved to New York and lived a nice life as SSD skyrocketed to success.
But then the experience had soured.
“We had problems. We didn’t encrypt data back then and were responsible for some serious identity thefts. Several people committed suicide. And a couple of times stalkers signed up as clients-but only to get information from innerCircle. Two of the women they were looking for were attacked, one almost died. Then some parents in custody battles used our data to find their exes and kidnapped the children. It was tough. I felt like the guy who helped invent the atom bomb and then regretted it. I tried to put more controls in place at the company. And that meant that I didn’t believe in the quote ‘SSD vision,’ according to my boss.”
“Sterling?”
“Ultimately, yes. But he didn’t actually fire me. Andrew never gets his hands dirty. He delegates the unpleasantries. That way he can appear to be the most wonderful, kindest boss in the world… And as a practical matter there’s less evidence against him if other people do his butchery… Well, when I left I joined Privacy Now.”