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   Instead, they found Scott and Ed, two friends of Par. They were pretty

   shaken up by the raid. Not knowing Par's real identity, the Secret

   Service agents accused Scott of being Par. The phone was in his name,

   and Special Agent Holman had even conducted some surveillance more

   than a week before the raid, running the plates on Scott's 1965 black

   Ford Mustang parked in front of the house. The Secret Service was sure

   it had its man, and Scott had a hell of a time convincing them

   otherwise.

  

   Both Scott and Ed swore up and down that they weren't hackers or

   phreakers, and they certainly weren't Par. But they knew who Par was,

   and they told the agents his real name. After considerable pressure

   from the Secret Service, Scott and Ed agreed to make statements down

   at the police station.

  

   In Chicago, more than 2700 kilometres away from the crisis unfolding

   in northern California, Par and his mother watched his aunt walk down

   the aisle in her white gown.

  

   Par telephoned home once, to Scott, to say `hi' from the Midwest. The

   call came after the raid.

  

   `So,' a relaxed Par asked his room-mate, `How are things going at

   home?'

  

   `Fine,' Scott replied. `Nothing much happening here.'

  

   Par looked down at the red bag he was carrying with a momentary

   expression of horror. He realised he stood out in the San Jose bus

   terminal like a peacock among the pigeons ...

  

   Blissfully ignorant of the raid which had occurred three days before,

   Par and his mother had flown into San Jose airport. They had gone to

   the bus terminal to pick up a Greyhound home to the Monterey area.

   While waiting for the bus, Par called his friend Tammi to say he was

   back in California.

  

   Any casual bystander waiting to use the pay phones at that moment

   would have seen a remarkable transformation in the brown-haired boy at

   the row of phones. The smiling face suddenly dropped in a spasm of

   shock. His skin turned ash white as the blood fled south. His deep-set

   chocolate brown eyes, with their long, graceful lashes curving upward

   and their soft, shy expression, seemed impossibly large.

  

   For at that moment Tammi told Par that his house had been raided by

   the Secret Service. That Scott and Ed had been pretty upset about

   having guns shoved in their faces, and had made statements about him

   to the police. That they thought their phone was tapped. That the

   Secret Service guys were still hunting for Par, they knew his real

   name, and she thought there was an all points bulletin out for him.

   Scott had told the Secret Service about Par's red bag, the one with

   all his hacking notes that he always carried around. The one with the

   print-out of all the Citibank credit card numbers.

  

   And so it was that Par came to gaze down at his bag with a look of

   alarm. He realised instantly that the Secret Service would be looking

   for that red bag. If they didn't know what he looked like, they would

   simply watch for the bag.

  

   That bag was not something Par could hide easily. The Citibank