“This may work in theory, but they’ll still miss the money you actually steal.”

“We. . we steal, Evan. And no, they won’t. They’ll just raise their premiums to get the money back.”

“Then it’s back to the credit card companies.”

“Yeah, but they don’t care about premiums. They pass those on to customers in their fees.”

“So the cardholders get hurt.”

“In a way, but these premiums get spread over billions of cardholders, each of whom knows what fees they need to pay to get and keep the card. If they think the fees are too high, or they aren’t getting a good deal, they can cancel the card. But frankly, they don’t even know or care what the charges are for. Trust me, they won’t miss the money. No one will miss the money.”

“It’s still stealing,” Beckett protested.

“Yes, it is. But these are large, soulless multinational corporations that spend millions more lobbying to take away your rights than we will ever be able to steal from them. Who gives a fuck about them?!”

Beckett stared at his empty plate. Normally, he would never entertain Corbin’s suggestion, but lately, he’d begun to worry about his finances and how he could care for his family. A year ago, he had a job he loved as a Federal Public Defender in New Jersey. But with two children in private school and a mortgage that was a little too large, he had trouble making ends meet. He desperately needed a promotion. But in the federal government, it’s often impossible to move straight up the career ladder. Instead, employees learn to zigzag between agencies to get promoted. So when the Washington job came open, Beckett’s boss told him to take it and then zigzag back once an available slot opened at his old agency in New Jersey. This sounded so certain Beckett even decided to leave his family in New Jersey and commute to Washington by rail each morning.