To her relief, she found salads on the menu. Hendricks ordered the meat loaf. When it came, Hendricks cut it into a dozen bite-size squares and then dipped each bite in Tabasco sauce. Gibson ordered a milkshake and a monstrosity called the Cindy Sue—a burger dripping barbecue sauce and topped with a thick onion ring. Throw in a side of fries, and it was no wonder he spent so much time at the gym; it had to be 1,500 calories. Between mouthfuls, Gibson briefed them about the challenge that surveillance of the Carolyn Anthony Library would present.

Hendricks agreed that blending in was going to be tough. “Hard truths time. This is an underused public library in a small town. New faces are going to need a damn good reason to be there.”

“Well, obviously this guy hasn’t avoided detection for ten years by being careless,” she said, thinking out loud. “He’s picked his spot well. He’ll see us; we won’t see him.”

“Yeah, but he’s also telling us something,” Hendricks said.

“What’s that?” Gibson asked.

“Strangers stick out. Means he isn’t one. He’s comfortable and confident.”

“We have a bigger problem,” Gibson said and explained how the Carolyn Anthony Library’s public Wi-Fi required no log-in or password, ran 24-7, and was broadcasting a signal strong enough to reach the moon.

“So where does that leave us?” Jenn asked.

“Where it leaves us is our man can use the library Wi-Fi anytime, day or night, and doesn’t even need to physically enter the library to do it. He can sit in his car, half a block away at two in the morning, and do his business. And we can’t stop him.”

“But he’s only given the virus instructions during business hours,” Jenn said.

“True, and no reason to believe he’ll vary his tactics. I’m just saying that he can if he wants.”

“If he wants,” Hendricks underlined. “But it’s also possible that he’s had his fun and this is a dead lead.”

“What’s the lag time between an active intrusion to ACG’s network and your sentries recognizing it and notifying you?” Jenn asked Gibson.

“Three to five seconds. Give or take. Any incoming instruction from the corrupt ad on the Post website’s IP will trigger an alarm here. I’ll get a text message, an e-mail, and a phone call.”

“What about your concerns WR8TH might be monitoring ACG communications?”

“Why do you think I bypassed your network entirely?”

Jenn glanced at Hendricks. He didn’t like that answer any more than she did.

“Can you route the alert to our phones as well?”

“Sure. I’ll do it after dinner.”

“So let me see if I understand the plan,” Hendricks said. “We wait for WR8TH to access his virus and then run around like fools looking for a middle-aged pedophile with a laptop and a hard-on. Missing anything?”