Duplicate Effort Part 15

He shook his head, but his cheeks flushed at the very idea of someone asking him those questions. He was an interesting choice for an employee of a security firm.

"When I asked why you're here," she said, "I meant why did Whitford Security send you here?" "Oh." He wiped at his nose again with the tissue. "They needed a body on-site to see if the system was working."

Then his flush deepened.

"I mean, you know, a real person. I mean, like someone alive. I mean, oh G.o.d . . ." He buried his face in his hands.

Romey permitted herself a small smile, mostly because she couldn't help it. She hoped her sons would never behave like this in a crisis. She hoped she'd trained them better.

"Who sent you?" she asked gently.

"Mr. Lautenberg." Lan raised his head. The blush had faded, leaving his skin even blotchier. "Who is Mr. Lautenberg?" Romey asked.

"My boss."

"What does he do?"

"I don't know exactly," Lan said.

Of course he didn't. "I mean, what's his job t.i.tle?"

"Deputy head of operations, but the head of operations wasn't there and neither was anyone else of importance so Mr. Lautenberg, he had to make some decisions on his own, which he didn't like doing, but he felt it was necessary, so he was yelling at people; then he pointed at me, and I thought, you know, that was it. I was fired. But he didn't fire me. He sent me here. Which was a trick because there's no public transportation within two kilometers and I don't have my own car and I wasn't sure how to get here and I didn't have money for a taxi."

He took a breath, and so did Romey. "I take it Mr. Lautenberg doesn't talk to you very often." "He's never talked to me." Lan's voice rose in panic. "That's why I have to let him know that I'm all right. I'll get fired, and this is the best job I've ever had. The pay-"

"I understand," Romey said, "and I'm sure he will, too. By now everyone at your company probably knows that Mr. Whitford is dead."

"That was Mr. Whitford?" Lan's voice rose even more, and then it cracked. Maybe he was younger than she thought. Maybe he had only five years on her eldest son. was Mr. Whitford?" Lan's voice rose even more, and then it cracked. Maybe he was younger than she thought. Maybe he had only five years on her eldest son.

"Roshdi Whitford," she said. "You didn't know?"

"I thought Mr. Whitford had killed some guy who broke in, you know? I didn't think it was him." "You'd never met him?" "No." "Or seen a picture?" "No." "There's no image of the company's founder in its primary building?" Romey asked.

"There's no image of anything in there. It's like a fortress. You're not supposed to look at anything but your work. It's weird. But it pays good."

She got that. She was also relieved that she had ordered the Whitford Securities building locked down the moment she got wind of who had died.

"Okay," she said. "Tell me the events before you were sent here. You said this Mr. Lautenberg was yelling at people. Was this in the office or were you in a meeting?"

"They were in a meeting," he said. "I just came in with the lunch tray. We don't have bots, you know, because they can be tampered with. I guess no technology is really safe." were in a meeting," he said. "I just came in with the lunch tray. We don't have bots, you know, because they can be tampered with. I guess no technology is really safe."

"I guess not," she said, deciding to wait to find out who "they" were.

"So there I was pa.s.sing out the sandwiches and the special orders and he was yelling about how could this crisis happen and who let things get out of hand and where the h.e.l.l were the two original guards and then he got some private message and he asked if anyone had seen Mr. Whitford today and no one had and then he frowned and he pointed at me and he told me to come here so that they could use their security system to track a real body. Those were his words. 'A real body.' I didn't say it to be insensitive or anything."

She nodded, trying to get a picture of what had really happened. "Do you think he knew something had happened to Mr. Whitford?"

"Why would he have sent me if he did? I mean, I'm the newest hire. There's no reason to send me. I'm not trained in anything. Like I know there's ways to go across the lawn here without activating too many cameras. It's the prescribed company route, but no one taught it to me. They wanted someone to mimic a nonemployee's route and I guess I'm the closest any employee gets to a nonemployee."

She almost smiled again, then caught herself. This poor boy. At least he was smart enough to know he'd been sent here because he was the least important employee in the firm.

"Let's back up for a moment," she said. "Was this a regular meeting that you brought sandwiches to?" "No," he said. "It was an emergency meeting. I usually bring everyone sandwiches at their desk. It was kinda hard to find who had what because I go by desk, not by person-"

"And," she interrupted, not wanting to know the minutiae of his work, "when was the meeting called?" "An hour, maybe, before I had to go in there?" He shrugged. He clearly didn't know. "Do you know why it was called?"

"They got some ping." "Ping?" she asked.

"From someone who was supposed to be working who wasn't? Or something. The higher up you go, the more regulated you get. If you're supposed to be on a job, you walk past the building, so that your company identification logs in. If you don't log in and you're supposed to be on some s.h.i.+ft somewhere, like some building we're providing security at or something, the system pings the upper level."

It sounded elaborate. Romey frowned. "They had a meeting because someone didn't show up for work?"

"That happens," he said. "It's happened a few times since I got there. Usually the guy just gets fired, but this time, something went really wrong."

She nodded. "Were they trying to track him down?"

"I don't know," he said. "Everyone ran around for a few minutes, then Mr. Lautenberg called the meeting, and stuff went on in the meeting room that I didn't know about. I do know that no one wanted Mr. Whitford to know until we all knew-or they they all knew, really. The rest of us would find out whenever." all knew, really. The rest of us would find out whenever."

"Right," she said. "Who was missing?" He shrugged. "Do you know what he was supposed to be doing?" "Guarding something," Lan said. "I know that because they were really afraid. This could be big." "And they didn't contact the company's head over it?"

"Not right away," Lan said. "But I got the sense that they were trying when I got in there, and then he wasn't answering, and everyone said that was weird, and then they got weird hits on the security system, and that's when they sent me."

If he was telling the truth, then this poor kid had no idea what the company had done to him. They had sent him here as a decoy, not just to see whether the security system was working, but also to see whether whatever had gone wrong was in any way dangerous.

Since they didn't use bots or other major tech, they had no choice but to send in lower-level employees. It was interesting that they had sent in a kid who had no training at all, probably because anyone with enough training would understand the dangers and behave accordingly.

"Did they think something had happened to Mr. Whitford?"

Lan shrugged. "I didn't know anything had happened to him until you told me."

"You called the police before you called your boss?" she asked.

He flushed again. "He was dead. I work for a security company. We're not the police. We don't investigate anything. I did the right thing, right?"

Probably not for the company. The poor kid would probably lose his job because he hadn't followed company policy. But for her . . .

"You did the right thing," she said. "You're amazingly brave. You waited here with the body until the police arrived?"

"No," he said, looking down. "I ran out into the yard. I didn't want-you know-to be close to it." She nodded. If he ran around and the company's security systems were working properly, then they had known that he had called the police. They also had known that something had scared the poor boy.

He probably wouldn't get fired. He probably already was was fired. fired.

"Then when the police arrived, you let them in," she said.

"They just looked in the house, like I did, and called for some techs or something like that. They made me wait. When the techs got here, they had me open the door."

"I thought you didn't know how the security system worked," she said.

"Every employee has a pa.s.skey into any Whitford Security System."

"Any system?" she asked. That didn't sound very secure.

"Initially, yeah. Then it gets modified by position. The higher up you are, the more places you can go. Like there are places even in the Whitford Security building that I can't get into."

"And if clients have a Whitford Security System?"

"I can't get in. But some of my bosses can. And the operations guys and maintenance guys, they can. But they leave a trail so if something bad happens, then they'd get blamed, you know."

It didn't sound very efficient to her, but she wasn't going to trust the probably-fired almost-nonemployee employee. She would have someone else explain the system to her.

"Yet you could open your boss's front door?" she asked.

"He's the one who sets the level of security at his house," Lan said. "If he didn't want someone like me in there, he would have had a tighter security system."

She frowned. "You never told me how you did get here. You said you didn't have a car and there was no nearby public transportation and you couldn't afford a taxi."

He pressed his lips together. He had clearly done something he wasn't supposed to.

"I promise I won't tell your bosses," she said. And she wasn't lying. She wouldn't tell his bosses because his bosses wouldn't care.

"I got a friend to drop me here." He spoke quietly.

"And who is this friend?" she asked.

He still wasn't looking at her. "Jude Andreeson."

"Did Jude Andreeson come onto the property with you?"

"No!" Lan whirled his head toward her. "They might've been watching. I'd get fired." "All right," she said, using her mother voice. Reasonable, yet demanding. "Where did he drop you off?" "Up the street, far from here," Lan said. "I made him turn around so he wouldn't drive down the street." She nodded. "How were you planning to get back to work?" "I thought maybe someone would come for me, but if they didn't, I'd walk to the public transport." "You figured they were watching you when you got here?" "That was the whole point," he said. "They were afraid the system wasn't working." "Do you know why?" she asked.

"Because they thought Mr. Whitford was here. There was no other place he'd be. Or maybe they tried to find him somewhere else or something. I'm not exactly sure. But they wanted-"

"A real body, I know," she said more to herself than him. Was the missing word in that phrase live live? A real live body. She almost asked Lan how the system worked, then decided not to. He probably didn't know.

But if it wasn't registering a glitch in the system and it wasn't getting a reading of anyone alive here, wouldn't they have sent someone more experienced?

She smiled at Lan, making sure the expression was rea.s.suring. "I'm going to need you here for a few more minutes. I'll send someone over to get your personal information and do a follow-up interview. Then you'll be free to go."

He nodded, even though he looked unhappier than he had before.

She got out of the car, closing the door, before she allowed herself a deep frown. The kid had raised a lot more problems than he had solved for her.

"Find the killer?"

Romey started. She should have noticed that a man was standing near the back of the squad, but she hadn't. Part of the reason was that the man had somehow made himself blend into his surroundings.

He was taller than she was, which wasn't difficult to be, and he looked square, probably because the jacket he wore didn't taper from his broad shoulders. His blue-black hair was thinning, and his face was oddly lined, as if he had started to develop wrinkles and then they moved to a different part of his skin.

He also looked tired.

It took her a moment to recognize him. Detective Bartholomew Nyquist, surly and temperamental, with one of the best closing rates in the department until he nearly died trying to thwart an a.s.sa.s.sin last year. "I take it you're the new lead on the investigation." She tried not to sound disappointed, but she doubted she was successful.

"Sorry," he said. "I hate taking over cases someone else has started, but it looks like your case and mine are related."

"Related means that I stay lead on mine and you stay lead on yours." Now she did sound bitter and she didn't mean to. Or maybe she did. She'd caught this case because Gumiela said there was no one better, even though Romey needed a day off, some time with her family, and some sleep.

Now, apparently, there was someone better.

"Okay," he said, "so I couched the language a bit. Our cases aren't just related. I think they're the same case. Which is why I'm here."

"You think?" she asked. "The chief said it was her idea."

"It was her idea after I explained the ties between the cases to her," he said. "Let me explain them to you, and then you can catch me up on what's going on here."

He rounded the car and held out his hand.

"Let's start, though, with a formal introduction. I know who you are, but you probably have no idea who I am." The words didn't sound fake. He truly thought she had no idea who he was. "I'm Bartholomew Nyquist."

She took his hand and shook it. "Savita Romey."

"You've done some great work," he said, letting her hand go. "I'm going to try to stay out of your way on this. I just need the information that being part of the investigation yields."

"All right," she said, not sure if he was now trying to smooth things over.

"And of course, you're going to have full access to my investigation as well." He smiled at her, then glanced inside the car. "Witness or suspect?"

"I'd almost say victim, but he's not injured," she said. "At least not that he knows about." "Meaning?"

"I think he works for a company that knew he might die when they sent him out here." Nyquist whistled. "That's a harsh accusation."

"Just my sense," she said. "But I have a hunch it'll be accurate."

"Do you work a lot on hunches?" he asked.

She felt her spine stiffen. "Is that a problem?"

He grinned. "No. I like partners who trust their gut. Too many don't."

She nodded. "I think I should warn you that I don't have a partner because the chief knows that I don't play well with others."

"Well," Nyquist said, "I'm working without a partner because I'm newly back from medical leave. I guess we buddy up on this case."

"I wasn't kidding about my predilection for working alone," she said. It gave her a little extra time with her family without the risk of being reported. It also streamlined her investigations.

"I understand," he said. "I've chased away a few partners on my own. I've never understood the need the department has to a.s.sign two radically different people to share a.s.signments. I used to compare it to an arranged marriage."

"Is that what this is?" she asked.

His smile widened. "More like a shotgun affair. Does that work for you?"