Page 79 of Mastermind

This is a safe question for him. He knows I already have the answer to it, and it gives him an opportunity to deny any lapses in procedure.

“In some situations, with approval of the court, inmates can receive visitors that are not officially logged.” He says it like it’s a prepared response.

Theo gets out of the car and Weir glances in his direction, but Theo just stands at the front bumper, drinking his coffee and texting on his phone.

“In instances where Heywood might have had off-the-record visitors, would the rules of his confinement not be applied?” I ask.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Yes, you are. If Heywood met with someone from the CIA, would that interaction be monitored?”

“Not necessarily. If a prisoner is a low risk or the agency that wishes to speak with him takes responsibility for their own safety, the visit would not be monitored by us . . . if the agency so requested,” he hedges.

“Were they allowed to bring in computers or other items that Heywood was forbidden from using?”

Now he sees where I’m going. This actually comforts him, because he’s not obligated to lie for the CIA or whoever was “consulting” with Heywood.

“It’s outside our jurisdiction. In instances like that, a prisoner’s custody enforcement is the responsibility of the agency that requested the interaction,” he answers dryly.

“So Heywood could have had access to computers while he was meeting with them?”

“I wouldn’t know what he or anyone else would have access to in that situation.”

“Not even if you see them enter with a computer and they ask you for an extension cord?”

“Agent Blackwood, you understand that legally I can’t give you any details about that hypothetical situation. These are questions you should be taking up with whoever you think was accessing Heywood.”

He’s trying to draw the conversation to a close, comfortable that he’s not the real target. I’m planning to lure him in a little bit more before switching up on him, when a new question suddenly comes to me. “Did any agency ever take Heywood out of Mesa for any period of time?”

Weir hesitates, making me think I’m onto something I hadn’t expected.

“I would not be able to disclose that.”

I’ll take that as a yes. More importantly, I think I have a better understanding of how Heywood was able to escape. It happened when the CIA or another agency was bringing him to a different location, possibly Langley or an off-site office where they could interact with him outside prison. Maybe they only sent an SUV and one or two armed escorts.

For someone like Heywood, this would be an easy extraction to pull off. He could do it with a handful of armed men and a bluff—like having a “police car” pull over their vehicle.

Something like this would be so profoundly embarrassing for the agency responsible, it would explain why we only learned that he escaped during a “transfer” and not how it happened.

Weir still believes my suspicions are about an intelligence agency giving Heywood computer access. What he doesn’t realize is that I’m fairly positive that Heywood would have been extremely closely monitored while he was cooperating with the intelligence agency. While their physical security may have sucked, they’re no dummies when it comes to computer security around suspect hackers.

The suspicious stuff that Heywood was doing probably didn’t happen when he was drinking lattes and typing away on one of their laptops in a conference room.

“Outside of access to computers or the internet that he may have had via a government agency, was Heywood ever allowed unsupervised use of computers while he was your responsibility?” I ask.

Weir doesn’t answer right away, because this is the question he didn’t want me to ask him. “I’m running late and need to continue this conversation later.” He glances over as Theo lifts the lid to his garbage can and tosses his coffee cup away, then looks down the street at the approaching garbage truck before returning his attention to me. “Look, Agent Blackwood, I’m just as frustrated as you are about Heywood’s escape. Unfortunately, my hands are tied about what I can speak to you about. But it seems like you have a pretty good idea who you should talk to.”

That was a smooth way of saying he’s stopping the conversation because he doesn’t want to be found guilty of lying to a federal agent. Go talk to the CIA, it’s their fault . . . It’s a credible gambit.

Weir nods at me and heads back into his house. “I have to go take a conference call I was supposed to have at the office,” he says over his shoulder. “If you have follow-up questions, please email them to me.”

“Thank you, Mr. Weir.”

I get back into the car, where Theo is sitting in the passenger seat examining his nails. “How did it go?”

“About as well as I predicted.”

“He’s still watching us,” Theo says.