Max’s mind kicked into high gear. He began thinking about an exit strategy. Vehicles. Doors. Weapons. No — weapons were out of the question. Better to just roll with it and trust that his father’s lawyer would be able to handle whatever misunderstanding there might be.
But what if he was wrong? What if they weren’t US law enforcement? What if they were some less talented foreign intelligence service? (The talented ones wouldn’t be so obvious.) What if they were contractors? Lawyers might not matter to those types.
Max spotted a dark SUV with tinted windows in the street. The door opened only for a second, but it was enough for him to see a dark blue jacket — just like the raid jackets that federal agents wore.
He wracked his brain to think of what this might be about. His father was still speaking. He had moved the conversation on to Max’s new corporate training plan.
“Come to think of it, I may have Maria schedule some time to go over the company’s priorities for the next fiscal year. It would be good for you to get a head start of sorts. To learn about the company’s big bets and priorities while you’re still in school. You’ll have a steep enough learning curve as it is.”
Max tried to remain in the conversation. “Alright. Anything else I should do to prepare?”
His father took another bite of his bagel and washed it down with ice water. “Yes, actually. I think it’s about damned time you learned how to fly.”
“I know how to fly, Dad.”
“I’m talking about one of these bigger aircraft. You can’t very well be expected to lead a company that makes jet airliners and not have any idea how to pilot them.”
“You mean get my multiengine or jet rating? Sure. I can do that. Maybe I can schedule some lessons up at BWI? There’s got to be a multiengine instructor there.”
“Max, we have our own school. It’s top-notch. We can train you. You’ll just need to find the time.”
Another SUV pulled up and parked just in back of the first. What were they doing, bringing in the whole agency? He was one man, and unarmed. He wasn’t going to fight them. Not to mention that he hadn’t done anything wrong.
The couple at the far table both cocked their heads at the same time and looked at each other. Someone had just given them a command via their earpieces.
The man rose from his seat. Then the woman.
They began walking toward Max, hands down near their waists. The two at the table inside were headed his way as well now, walking through the restaurant exit and out onto the patio.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“I think I may need you to call your lawyer.”
3
The agents were actually quite polite. They asked Max if he would voluntarily accompany them. He wasn’t under arrest; they just had some questions. Max was amenable. His father was not.
“This is ridiculous, disturbing us here like this,” his father said.
“We’re sorry, Mr. Fend, but this is an urgent matter that we need to resolve.”
Max tried to calm his father down, but that proved to be a tall order. After arguing with the agents and threatening to sue, Charles was on the phone with his lawyer. Max wasn’t sure what his father would sue for, since he was voluntarily following his FBI escorts. But he knew that his father was just embarrassed and maybe a bit scared. He was always overly protective of Max.
Still, Max knew this wasn’t normal, the FBI showing up like this. He tried to think of why they might have done it. Something time-sensitive, perhaps.
Or maybe they wanted to catch him off guard. Before he had the chance to lawyer up. If Max was running this little op, he would want to get as much out of the guy as he could, as soon as he could.
The FBI probably realized that as soon as one of Max’s father’s high-powered attorneys came into play, he wouldn’t be saying a thing. Max wondered if they knew about his background. No. That’s not possible. If anything, they knew about his cover. Now that could be a problem. Maybe that was it, then.
Max reverted back to his training. In the US, federal agents would need probable cause to arrest him. They could detain him no more than about twenty minutes without placing him under arrest. But if he voluntarily went with them… that changed the dynamics of the relationship. Still, it would be hard for them to use anything in court if they didn’t play it by the book.
The FBI was all about what they could prove in a court system. That wasn’t an issue for men like Max. In his former occupation, they only cared about getting accurate information, no matter how it came out.
Max and his FBI escorts walked up to a line of dark government SUVs parked on the curb of Rock Creek Parkway. The doors opened, and a few men stepped out of the cars, “FBI” emblazoned in bright yellow on both sides of their blue raid jackets. People on the street stared. It must have looked like a scene out of a movie.
“Mr. Fend, my name is Special Agent Jake Flynn. We’d like to speak with you for a few moments, please.”
Max looked at the group, a grin on his face. “All of you?”
“Could you come with us, please, sir?”
Max said, “Sure thing.”
A few moments later, Max sat in the middle seat of the Suburban. Two big FBI agents on either side. The vehicle drove fast through the streets of D.C.
The SUV stopped at a townhouse on Eighth Street in Northeast.
Max gave the FBI agents an odd look. “What’s this?”
“It’s an off-site residence that we use sometimes. It’s easier than taking you all the way down to the D.C. field office in Manassas. Unless you’d rather be stuck on I-95 for three hours today. If you can answer all our questions, we might be out of here in under an hour.”
“I’ll do my best.”
An agent at the door collected his phone on the way in. “You’ll get it back once we’re done. Security.”
They walked up to the second floor. Max kept going over things in his head. With this many agents here, Max figured that whatever they were working on must have been pretty high-profile. Maybe that was just because his father was Charles Fend. Maybe it was something else.
“Have a seat.” Special Agent Flynn extended his hand to a simple white desk, surrounded by a few chairs. Max sat.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thanks,” Max said.
“Do you know of any reason why we might want to speak with you today?”
Max shook his head. “I don’t.”
Agent Flynn stared back at him for a moment, letting the question hang.
“Can you tell me where you were on the fifteenth of last month?”
Max thought about it. “I was in Jacksonville, Florida.”
“Where exactly?”
“I was with my father. Touring the Fend Aerospace plant and headquarters.”
“Touring the Fend Aerospace plant and headquarters?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you access the computer network at the Fend headquarters?”
“Can I ask you something? Do I need a lawyer?”
“Not if you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then we can keep this informal, if you want. It’ll be quicker. Did you access the computer network at the Fend headquarters?” His voice was melodic. Casual.
Max didn’t have a good feeling about this. Why were they concerned about the Fend computer network? He thought about his former line of work. If the right person had access, they could have done a lot of things with corporate network access like Max had.
Max said, “I think I might have used one of the company computers. Maybe to type a few emails. That sort of thing. But that was several weeks ago. It’s hard to remember.”