there are no database or Google references for a person in the twenty-first century? It’s like Olivia Macie lives in a cave.”
“The cookie-baking Olivia Macie that Eve knows does in terms of the internet. I’m thinking she uses another name for her illicit activities.” He relayed the rest of Sarge’s message and opened the photos, tipping his cell so his colleague could see the screen too.
“That’s him.” Colin pointed to one of the images.
“I agree.” He touched it and read the brief bio that came up, pulling out the pertinent facts.
Peter Arnold. Prominent SDS activist. Killed in violent confrontation during a protest in 1964.
“What’s SDS?” Colin frowned at the screen.
Brent’s fingers were already flying over the keys, searching for that answer. He clicked on the first hit. “Students for a Democratic Society. The group was a critic of the US political system, big business, economic inequality, racial discrimination—and a host of other things. A memo from the FBI in 1969 called it an organization dedicated to the destruction of American society and Western democratic traditions and ideals.”
“Sounds like Antifa.”
“Doesn’t it, though?” Brent typed in Peter Arnold and quickly scanned his bio. “Whoa. Get this. Arnold married a woman named Olivia Wallace in 1961.”
“I assume that’s our Olivia. But she told Eve her husband died twenty years ago—and the names don’t match.”
“There could have been a second marriage. The patrol officer who responded to the emergency call this morning told me Eve said Olivia was married to a guy named Nathaniel.”
“Try pairing the names for a search.”
Brent resumed typing. “The uncommon last name should help keep this manageable.” He scrolled through the hits that popped up. Clicked on one that seemed promising. “She married her second husband in 1970. Nathaniel Macie was quite a bit older than her. They were together until he died in 2000 after a debilitating battle with Parkinson’s disease.”
“Was he also a radical?”
“No. A prominent banker.”
“Huh.” Colin arched an eyebrow. “She went over to the dark side—or at least that’s what her old activist cohorts would say.”
“The evidence downstairs would suggest she didn’t stay there.”
Colin rose. “Let’s dive in and—”
Ding dong.
“Must be the computer tech Sarge is sending.” Brent stood too.
“I’ll let him in and meet you downstairs.”
They parted in the hall, and Brent clattered back down the stairs. Now that the tech was here, they could dig into the woman’s computer. That might yield gold. And the texts and call history on the burner phones would also be valuable.
Unless everything was password protected and their tech guru couldn’t get them into the devices fast.
And fast was key. The Antifa fanatics at the park could lose patience any second.
However, Eve should be safe—unless she and the powers that be in the Republican organization decided to proceed with the afternoon programming.
A shudder rippled through him as a litany of potential consequences strobed through his mind.
But without hard evidence to suggest there was a plot directed specifically against her, she wasn’t the type to back down in the face of pressure. She would stick with her principles, even if that put her at risk.
And all along he’d been afraid his job would freak her out.
How ironic.
Colin joined him in the basement, followed by a jeans-clad guy who could pass for a teenager.
“Sam Harris.” The new arrival held out his hand.
Brent returned the shake and introduced himself.
“Colin already gave me the highlights.” The younger man pulled on a pair of latex gloves and moved to the computer. Touched a key. The screensaver vanished, and an email program appeared on the screen, a half-composed note front and center.
“That was easy.” He grinned at them. “Even you guys could have hacked into this one.” He opened the full header and examined the gobbledygook that came up. “She’s using a remailer to preserve her anonymity. Maybe more than one. No surprise there. You want to look at this email account while I check out the cells?” He picked up one of the phones.
“Yes.” Brent crossed to the computer and dropped into the chair. Colin joined him as they both donned gloves and read the partially composed, cryptic email.
It didn’t appear to have anything to do with today’s event or Eve. A date in October was referenced. Olivia must have been working on a future Antifa gathering.
“Notice the From line.” Colin indicated the spot. “She goes by the name Dan.”
“I wonder why?”
“Could be an acronym for the Direct Action Network.” Sam spoke without taking his focus off the cell he was examining.
Brent glanced at