A few minutes later, Max entered the Guidance office and looked around.
The front desk was occupied by a fiftyish woman with rather worn features, pale skin and gray hair, wearing glasses.
There were five smaller offices arranged around this main one, Max noticed; the counsellor's, he guessed.
The secretary had a small sign on her desk that reads, "Helen Chandler, Guidance Secretary." She looked up at Max as he enters. "May I help you?" She peered closely at Max, trying without success to place him among the dozens of students she saw every day.
"Good afternoon," Max said. "Yes, you can help me." Very quietly, he drew out his FBI identification and showed it to her. "I'm with the teen crimes unit. I need access to some of your records, and a copy of the yearbook for last year's class and this year's if it's available. I'd like to keep knowledge of my presence here as restricted as possible, and your cooperation would be most appreciated. If you would show my credentials to your principal, I can probably be out of your hair by the end of the school day, or tomorrow at the latest. There is a contact number for the Washington office if he needs to verify my credentials."
Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, this wasn't exactly the sort of thing one saw every day and in a high school office one saw a lot of things. She looked at the credentials. "I'll show these to the principal immediately, Mr Summersett. It'll only be a moment." With that she left the room and hurried into the passageway that linked Guidance with the main office.
While she was gone, Maxwell virtualized a search warrant from his emergency deck and quickly filled in the school's name and address, saying that he is looking for classified government data files. That'd give him access to the building after hours, if he needed it.
Finishing the form, he folded it appropriately and then tucked it into his jacket pocket. He then looked around the office while he waited, trying to look like someone who was scrutinizing everything but was also trying to look bored while doing it.
There were signs pertaining to various school activities on several of the walls, along with signs giving dates to register for SATs, ACTs, and other suchlike tests. To the right of the doors was a rack containing pamphlets regarding enlistment in the various armed forces.
A table in front of that rack had on it two stacks of booklets "1995-96 Curriculum Guide/Course Descriptions" and "Student Conduct and Discipline Code 1995-96"
Max picked up a booklet and leafed through it, scanning the pages. Curriculum Guide first and if he had thime, the Discipline Code.
A woman came out of one of the other offices. On seeing Max, but not Mrs Chandler, she stepped over to the desk. "I don't think I've seen you around here before." she said politely. "Can I help you with something?" The office she'd come out of carried a sign on its door reading "Cynthia Vanderberg, Guidance Counselor".
He looked towards her, making solid eye contact. The woman appeared to be late thirties/early forties, she had dark brown hair shoulder length and was wearing a yellow blouse with a collar and white slacks.
He still didn't feel all that comfortable around authority, but remained cordial.
"Not at the moment, Ms. Vanderberg. I'm waiting to speak to the principal." He paused. "However, if you could spare a moment, you -could- tell me about that large photo in your main display case. Who was Jeffrey Harrison?"
She looked at him for a moment. "He was on the faculty here." she replied. "Had been for years--took over as head of the English department three years ago, after Mrs Gannon retired."
While she talked, another woman entered, after parking a cart laden with mop, broom, pail and various cleaning supplies just outside the door, where it would not block it or interfere with traffic in the corridor.
This one was wearing a simple gray dress with white collar, and had on an apron as well, the pockets of which had rags stuffed into them. She seemed about fiftyish, dark skinned but not black, she had black hair streaked with gray tied back into a bun.
She shook her head as she heard Ms Vanderberg's statement, then paused to look at the stranger for a moment before turning back to Ms Vanderberg. "What you talkin' 'bout poor Senor Hareeson?" she asked. tsk'ing slightly as she touched a crucifix at her neck.
"He'd just asked about the picture in the main case." Ms Vanderberg replied.
"Si, si. Madre de Dios, terreeble, that was. the poor senor, and the whole familia too..."
"Terrible? What happened to him? I know he died, but 'terribly'?" He looked between the two women, seeking answers. "Was it a car wreck? If his family died with him..."
Both women looked at him, slightly suspicious. Neither of them knew him after all...the Latino woman looked to Ms Vanderberg uncertainly.
"You must have read it in the papers then, am I right?" Vanderberg asked. "And I'm sorry I don't think I got your name." She hesitated to discuss this with a stranger.
"I haven't been in town all that long, and I read books more often than the newspaper. It depresses me, the news. And no, you didn't get my name because I am -intolerably- rude. It's Summerset. Maxwell Summerset. I understand how it must be ... difficult to talk about. Death is a horrible thing which lessens us all when it happens to good people. I guess he had children attending here?"
Ms Vanderberg nodded, even as the other woman sniffed. "The senorita, si. Aiee, the poor childe..." fingering her crucifix again.
Ms Vanderberg sighed. She was used to Beatriz Sanchez's ways, they all were. And if it helped her deal with what had happened, then so be it--God only knew they had all had to deal with things each in their own way. "Beatriz--maybe you should go take your break in the lounge, you might feel better if you get a coke or something. I'll be down in a bit if you feel like talking." she said to her gently.
'Beatriz' nodded and left, muttering under her breath as she did something that sounded like..."Virgen Maria, lleno de gracia..."
Ms Vanderberg turned back to Max. "You'll have to excuse Mrs Sanchez. She'd known the Harrisons as long as any of us, probably longer. She--she'd helped Cathy, when she was so sick right after Susan was born."
"I see. So what happened to them? If you're ... okay to talk about it?"
"We're not sure, really." she began, slowly. "I mean, we know what the police said but anyone who knew the Harrisons at all knew that -that- was simply impossible. The teacher advisor for Students Against Drunk Driving goes out gets drunk and kills himself AND his wife in a car wreck--??" She shook her head. "I'm a trained psychologist, Mr Summersett. I know that pressures can make people change suddenly but not like that. not that much."
She paused and looked at him..."And Susan--they never did find her. That's the hardest part of all of it. They think she--she might've been thrown clear of the, the wreck--but they never found her." She sighed again. "But I'm probably boring you with this."
"Not at all. It sounds like something from 'Unsolved Mysteries'. I like to hear more about it, if you could spare the time."
Just then Mrs Chandler entered the room. "Mr Summersett, sorry to take so long, Mr Lafayette was in a conference. But he'll see you now."
Max reached out and shook Ms. Vanderberg's hand. "I have to go, but I -would- very much like to talk with you again, Ms. Vanderberg. Thank you for speaking with me."
"You're welcome," she replied. "That's what I'm here for," she managed a smile.
Max headed towards the main office, following Mrs. Chandler. "Very capable woman, that Ms. Vanderberg. I'd like to also thank you for your continued cooperation and assistance, Mrs. Chandler. I hope I can count on your ... discretion."
Mrs Chandler nodded. "Of course, Mr Summersett."
She led Max through the connecting passage. Max noted the details as they walked. On the left was a room with a sink, several cabinets, and a bed covered in white sheeting. To the right was a restroom and next to that another door marked STORAGE.
Coming out of the passage, Max faced the back of a counter that runs most of the length of the room, separating the work areas from the 'lobby' and the office's main entrance off the central corridor.
There were two desks to Max's right, another to his left all three occupied. Beyond the desk to his left there was a smaller office, and two more such offices are beyond the desks to his right. It was to the forward one of these that she led Max.
Mr. Jeffrey P. Lafayette was a middle aged man with white hair and strong looking features. He wore a gray suit and white shirt with a matching gray tie. He held out his hand as Max approached. "Mr Summersett? If you'd care to step into my office, perhaps you could explain this in a bit more detail?" His tone wasn't accusing or suspicious, merely concerned. If it pertained to this school or anyone connected with it, then the ultimate responsibility was his.
"Certainly, Principal Lafayette." Max followed the Principal into his office and waited until the door was closed before taking a seat. "I will require access to your files, so I may need some basic assistance."
"Now, the reason I am here is because of a known security breach in several corporate and government data centers. This activity and its subsequent investigation has been ongoing for nearly two years, and we are completing our detailing of the final levels of acquisition and distribution. This school has been linked to those crimes through information sources I am not at liberty to reveal at this time. I have a court order, " at this he produced it, "which grants me access to the building and any areas small enough to conceal this information, which will most likely be on a three and one half inch computer diskette, possibly several."
Lafayette had been sitting back in his seat, listening to Max, but at this he interrupted. "Your credentials do appear to be in order, Mr Summersett, and that's why I'm inclined to accept what you're telling me, incredible as it may seem. However, do you realize how many computer diskettes there are just in this office? to say nothing of the guidance and dean's offices and the school computer lab?? All in use for quite legitimate purposes...or so I had thought."
"I have hardware which scans the diskettes at twenty times normal speed. And it is either I search, or we confiscate, and I would not choose that route. You have no idea of the paperwork involved. I'm quite good at my job, and know several shortcuts I can use ... plus I have certain articles of software which will assist my efforts."
"I have been sent to examine your files and facilities for evidence to take before a grand jury. Understand that no one is being charged at this point. I am merely here to observe and gather information. The Bureau would appreciate it if my actual presence here were kept to as few people as possible, but I will require access to the school after the conclusion of class hours to perform part of my investgations without exposing my actual purpose to the student body in toto. Nothing will be removed without being inventoried in your presence, although I would prefer to keep my file research and structural investgation confidential to protect the innocent. It has been my experience in these matters that even the most trustworthy students can fall under undue suspicion, simply because their file has been pulled for evaluation."
"Of course. We haven't had anything like this here, and I've been associated with this school for a long time. However I have heard, regrettably, of such things happening elsewhere. I will of course assist in any way I can. I understand your need for discretion, but don't you think that at least the teacher or teachers whose departments might be impacted should be told?"
"If evidence is found implicating particular students, then those teachers will be informed. We are trying to make this as inobtrusive as possible. Frankly, I think the agencies involved are trying to avoid the embarassment of having the infiltration revealed, but it is not my place to speculate, only to follow my orders."
"I have a partner in the building, Special Agent Barbara Winters. She is currently circulating among the student body making general introductory inquiries, listening to the corridor talk, and generally trying to acquaint herself with the undercultures within the student body. I did not bring her with me because I am trying to keep our connection as inobvious as possible. If you like, I can have her come visit you and present her identification."
"I will try to have my investigation completed by tomorrow evening at the latest, and am prepared to spend the evening and night here to work so that I will not hamper normal school activities. If sufficient evidence is found, I would need to register as a transfer student so that I can observe those students the evidence indicates. At most, it would take an extra week. Would that be a problem?"
"It would require clearing with our security. We're part of the San Francisco Unified School District, as I'm sure you know, and the Board has established an arrangement involving offhours patrols by offduty members of local police departments."
"Understood. Although local forces don't quite interact with us on the most genial terms, I think a fax and call-back should suffice in this case. We're not exactly stealing their thunder, after all."
"Of course, I'll attend to it immediately after we're done here."
"Have you contacted my superiors?"
"I've requested verification of your ID, of course. They wouldn't, understandably, give detailed information on an open line, but they have cleared your numbers and physical descriptions."
"I don't understand the delay. They should have just kept you on the telephone and verified it. Sometimes these delays can be costly."
"I will need keys and the alarm codes, as well as temporary computer access. A written statement from you indicating that I am operating with your knowledge and approval should suffice in case there are any interruptions. Please include a contact number where you can be reached when you are not on the premises. Do you have any questions? I will try to answer them, if I am permitted."
"Just one. Is it not standard procedure for Federal agents to be armed? If there is something illegal going on on this campus, I of course want it stopped--but I cannot authorize anything that could possibly endanger the lives of students or personnel."
"During school hours, I will not be carrying my Bureau-issued sidearm. This is a professional courtesy to you, and an address to the safety of your students. Afterwards, however, I will be, since I am mandated by federal guidelines to remain armed at all times while in the field. I do not expect the need to arise, but in my experience it is better to have it and not need it."
He nodded. "That will have to be sufficient. There -is- a rule prohibiting firearms on school property, but under these circumstances, and as long as it was not while classes were in session."
"If you prefer, I -can- carry a baton. I prefer the firearm due to my lack of overt physical strength, but I can carry just the baton, if it will make things easier for you. We're thoroughly trained on hand-to-hand fighting technique as well, although they've yet to teach us how to dodge bullets more than three times out of five."
He picked up a pad and wrote a few lines on it.
"I hope this will be able to be resolved quickly, Mr Summersett. And as for your associate--I don't want to interfere with your investigation, of course, but so that my staff doesn't unwittingly interfere with her part of this, perhaps you could point her out to me?"
Max produced a copy of her ID photo from his wallet, where it was stored among other pictures of people he had known, including Susan, but he kept the pictures out of the principal's view.
"This is a reproduction of her ID photograph, minus the Federal seal. I am sure you will have no trouble recognizing her, but I will arrange for her to come here, rather than have you stop her in the hallways. Would ten minutes from now be sufficient? I can also provide you with her ID number, should you feel the need to call Washington again."
He nodded. "That should be sufficient to clear things with the officer who's assigned here for this week. Any suggestions on what I -can- tell him that won't endanger your investigation and still preserve security here?"
"Security will not be compromised. Tell him that you have two Federal agents named Summerset and Winters on the premises. We will be unarmed and can present ID which you have obtained verification of. If he sees a firearm, it won't be us. Do not have him use our names. Only have him request our identification. He will know them and be able to verify our identities himself."
"I'll do that. And ten minutes should be sufficient to complete the arrangements."
"Great." Max stood and leaned forward extending his hand. "We'll try not to be too big a bother, Mr. Lafayette."
Lafayette nodded as Max left the office.
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