“Call me Gil,” the man said. He waved them to seats. “I’ve been instructed by the director to cooperate with your investigation, so I will answer any of your questions that seem relevant. I understand you want to know about Theodore Fay?”

“That’s correct,” Kinney replied. “We want to know everything you can tell us about him.”

“Of course, I wanted to print out his employment record for you, but as you’re now no doubt aware, it has been removed from our computer files, and there is, apparently, no hard copy.”

“Yes, we know about that. What can you tell us about the nature of his employment here?”

“I understand you already have the personal recollections of some of our people who are retired.”

“That’s correct.”

“They would have known Teddy as well or better than I, so I’ll tell you what I know about what he did here until his retirement.”

“Thank you, that would be very helpful.”

“I must ask you to treat everything I tell you as secret and not to share this information with anyone not directly connected to your investigation. I would also prefer it if you would not make written notes of our conversation or include them in any reports circulated to your own people or others.”

“We understand your need for secrecy,” Kinney replied, “and we’ll do everything we can to keep your confidence.”

“Thank you. First, let me give you an overview of the kinds of things we do here. Our Department of Technical Services is divided into, roughly, four segments: weapons, both offensive and defensive, including firearms and various others; chemical, again both offensive and defensive, including explosives and poisons; communications, including radios and computers; and documents, including manufacture of same, as well as analysis of found materials. Our capabilities in all these areas are far beyond those of any police department in the world, and very probably, well beyond those of your own FBI labs.”

“In which areas did Teddy Fay work?” Kinney asked.

“All of them,” Gil replied, “at one time or another. Teddy came to work here at a time when the department was less segmented that it now is. He had degrees in mechanical engineering and chemistry from MIT and a growing reputation as an inventor. He already held a number of patents that continued to produce income for many years. He was an amateur gunsmith, and in his youth, an amateur actor, and he started here working on firearms and disguises.

“When personal computers became available, Teddy bought one at Radio Shack and taught himself programming. He wrote some software products that, updated for the newer operating systems, are still in use here. Computers remained an obsession with him, but then, Teddy was obsessed with nearly everything. He was the ideal employee-completely dedicated to his work and, apparently, nothing else. We could have kept him in a cage and thrown him meat once in a while, and he wouldn’t have noticed. He’d have just shown up for work every morning with a new idea. I hated to lose him.”

“What was he doing in, say, the last two years of his employment?” Kinney asked.

“He was a key supervisor. Let’s say we were planning to insert an agent into a foreign country: Teddy would draw up a plan which would include documentation and backup, weapons, disguises, clothing, transportation, and communications, plus anything else the agent might need. Then Teddy would supervise the obtaining or creation of all the things the agent needed. His skills were such that he could fill the shoes of anyone who worked for him, if necessary. If his passport artist was down with the flu, Teddy could create a passport from scratch, or figure out where to steal a blank one.”

Kinney interrupted. “You said documentation and backup. What did you mean by backup?”

“Let’s say that our agent was detained while crossing a border. The local police would do everything possible to check out his background and his legend, so every document, every word he said, every part of his legend, had to be verifiable. Teddy was an absolute genius at that. I’ll give you an example, though I can’t be too specific. Some years ago, Teddy broke into the computer systems of an Eastern European country and downloaded thousands of passport records. From that he learned how to create a passport file for an individual that was indistinguishable from the genuine article, then upload it into their system. So, if an agent’s passport was checked against the central files, there he was, making his passport unassailable.”

“You said he could create documents from scratch?”

“Yes, if he had to, and if he had a sample to work from. Something our agents are always looking for is blank documents from other governments-expense reports, criminal records, employment applications, anything a government uses, and especially passports. If we couldn’t get the real thing, then Teddy could make the paper, the watermarks, the holograms, the seals and stamps, and anything else that went into the manufacture of the original. It was time-consuming, but it saved many lives.”

“We know that Teddy has faked his death, and we’re sure he’s out there somewhere in America with one or more fake identities. Based on what you do here, what would one of those identities consist of, and how would it be backed up?”

“It would consist of everything in your wallet-credit cards, driver’s license, club and museum memberships, insurance cards, the works. And it would all be real. Let’s say he got stopped for speeding, and the cop ran his driver’s license and car registration. It would come back as genuine, and the address of record would be real, if somebody went and knocked on a door. Suppose he was questioned by the police when suspected of a crime. He would have college and high school transcripts inserted into the correct computers, and his fingerprints would not turn up any previous arrests. If he were employed, the employer would be real. He would have a credit record going back an appropriate number of years-he could even walk into a bank and borrow money. It would all be airtight, and there wouldn’t be any leaks.”

“Wouldn’t he need help from other people to make it airtight?”

“Not necessarily. Most background checking is done by requesting records, which are computerized. Let’s say his legend includes working for a large insurance company. The cops would call to verify his employment, and a clerk would enter his name into a computer and pull up his employment record. It would all be there for the clerk to read to the police, or he could even email them a copy. He would only need help if the police tried to telephone his supervisor and actually speak to someone who knows him. We would cover that for an agent, but Teddy might find it difficult, working alone.”

“So what do we look for? How can we pierce this legend, if we find him?”

“Odds are, you can’t. He will have constructed it in such a way as to make it completely plausible and verifiable. He could tell you his life story, and when you checked it out, it would all be, well, 'true.'”

“Do you have a record of his fingerprints?”

“No, I checked. It’s gone, along with everything else about Teddy.”

Kinney had a thought. “Could you check something for me?”

“If I can.”

“Teddy retired, so he’s on a pension, right?”

“Right.”

“Will you check with your accounting department and see if his pension is being paid, and if so, to what bank? And what address they have for Fay?”

“Give me a few minutes,” Gil said. He left the room, and a woman brought coffee and cookies for them.

TEN MINUTES LATER, Gil returned. “He didn’t delete his pay records. His pension is being paid into an account at the First National Bank of Arlington, and his address is the one on Riverview Circle where he lived for many years.” He laid a sheet of paper on the table containing all the information. “What else can I do for you?”