Lack of Jurisdiction

by G. K. Parks

  “Don’t get caught sitting down on the job,” I replied, winking at the man and following Eastman up the steps while I pulled the radio free from my jacket.

  “How are you holding up?” Paul asked, pushing the elevator call button. “Is the monotony getting to you?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I glanced at him and noticed a grin on his face. “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s not often I find my guards sitting on the floor. Y’know, there are chairs in the hotel.”

  “The basement is lacking in furniture,” I retorted. “Plus, I was assessing different vantage points. And for the record, you didn’t hire me to be a guard. Sentry duty wasn’t in my contract.”

  “I suppose it wasn’t.” He glanced at his watch as the elevator opened on the conference level. “Give me your radio and go home.” He held out his hand.

  “Sir?”

  “I’m not punishing you.” He leaned against the elevator doors to keep them open. “You’re right. You’re not a guard.” His eyes studied my posture. “Old injury acting up?” He nudged his chin toward my arms, wrapped around my ribcage.

  “You could say that, but it’s okay. I’m not about to leave you shorthanded. What kind of consultant would I be to cause a breach in your security protocols?”

  “I have three guys on standby, and like you said yesterday, the basement isn’t a feasible entry point. But if you’re so insistent on helping out, then you can come back tomorrow afternoon and monitor the security feed. Deal?”

  “Deal.” I handed him the radio and stepped to the side as he exited the elevator. “What time?”

  “Noon.”

  “See you then.” I pushed the button for the lobby and waited for the doors to close. At least I didn’t have to stay in the dusty basement and be bored for the rest of the day.

  Instead, I went to the MT building to get a jump on their current security issues. Entering the building, I set the metal detectors buzzing. I forgot my handgun was in my purse, but thankfully, Jeffrey Myers was working the security desk. He smiled and waved away the two guards that attempted to intervene.

  “Sorry, Jeffrey,” I blushed, getting caught in a compromising position for the second time today, “I came from work and forgot to leave the heavy artillery in the car.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I don’t think you’re planning a hostile takeover.”

  Chuckling at the business humor, I took a seat next to him behind the security counter. “Mr. Guillot called the other day about a security issue with the elevators. I didn’t realize I’d be available this quickly or else I would have called first. So what’s the problem?”

  Jeffrey went to a filing cabinet and pulled out the binder of emergency provisions, flipped through the tabbed pages, and laid it on the desk between us. “As you know, the elevators automatically lock in the event of a fire and go into fire service mode.” He flipped through the diagrams. “And as is required by the state licensing board, fire department, and the protocols you developed, we’ve implemented that they return to the lobby and open unless smoke has been detected on that level in which case they will open on an alternate level.”

  “Right, we selected four as the alternate because of the stairwell and freight elevator options in addition to easier access to the service entrance.” I skimmed through the sheets, unable to determine what the problem was.

  “Exactly. It seemed like a great plan,” he hesitated, “but apparently the problem occurs when the elevator doors open and then smoke is detected afterward. It sets off the sprinklers.”

  “Okay, and…?”

  “And once the sprinklers kick on, the elevator locks because of the electrical preventatives in place.”

  “Shit,” I cursed, rubbing my eyes, “does it do it on all levels or just the lobby?”

  Jeffrey’s eyes went wide, and he sighed. “I didn’t think to check.”

  “Obviously, there’s a lot of that going around.” I flipped through a few more pages. “What about manually overriding the system once it’s locked? Have you tried that?”

  “The complete shutdown of the electrical system prevents a manual override,” he replied. The point was to prevent an accidental electrocution or fire, except this was still the case even in the event of a pre-existing fire.

  There had to be some other way around the issue, but I couldn’t find it. Fuck. There was no easy fix. Either the electrical security preventions in place had to be changed, or the elevator’s response system needed to be modified. The only thing left to do was figure out which was a better solution.

  “Do you mind if I sit here and think about things for a while? If I’m in your way, I can go.”

  “No, stay put. You’re not bothering me. I just figured you’d be more comfortable in your office.”

  A laugh escaped my lips. “I hate to break the news to you, but I don’t work here anymore. I haven’t worked here in four months, maybe five.”

  “That explains why I haven’t seen you around.” His brows furrowed. “Why are you doing this?” He tapped the binder.

  “It’s my mess to clean up.”

  “It was an oversight, Miss Parker.” He graced me with a reassuring smile. “No one blames you. Stuff like this happens.”

  “Well, I’d feel better knowing it’s fixed. Blunders on my record don’t bode well for future job opportunities.”

  “Why did you leave MT?”

  “Personal reasons,” I replied. “I should let you get back to work. Maybe I’ll have a talk with maintenance. Can I borrow a visitor’s pass? I still have my old I.D. card, but I’m guessing it’s inactive.”

  Jeffrey pulled a pass from the drawer and handed it to me. “I think your card is still programmed, but if you need some assistance, just holler.”

  “Thanks.” Clipping on the pass, I went to the elevator, intent on speaking with maintenance to come up with a plan of attack for the current dilemma.

  Maintenance was little help, but they gave me a few numbers to call for electricians and elevator operators. I returned to the security desk and made a few calls, asked dozens of questions, and eventually dialed the fire department for their input. After performing my due diligence, I phoned maintenance to share my findings.

  Absently doodling on the corner of a sheet of paper while I waited for someone to take me off hold, it seemed the problem might have a simple solution. We might be able to reprogram the manual override without changing too many of the safeguards already in place. It was worth a shot.

  “Miss Parker, are you still there?” the technician asked as soon as he came back on the line.

  “Yes. What’s the verdict?”

  “It seems your plan is feasible. We should be able to rewrite the code and modify the systems so the sprinklers don’t cause a complete electrical shutdown in the building. If we reroute the elevator functions to a separate system, then they won’t be affected and the protocols established will remain in place.”

  “Really?” That was easier than I thought.

  “Well, theoretically, yes.”

  “All right, run a few diagnostics, write up the proposal and e-mail a copy to me. I have to get approval before we implement anything, but I’d like to know all the details and finer points before I pitch it to Mr. Guillot and the Board.” Apparently, I escaped one business meeting to put myself directly in the line of fire of another one. No wonder I enjoyed consulting for the police better. Crime was so much easier to handle.

  “Yes, ma’am. When do you need it?”

  “The sooner, the better. If it’s at all possible, Friday morning at the latest.”

  “I think we can swing that. Have a good afternoon.”

  “Thanks, you too.” Hanging up, I leaned back in the chair and snatched the abandoned cup of coffee off the security desk. With all the calls and notes, I forgot all about my caffeine fix. Gulping down the remainder of the now cold coffee, I shut my eyes and inhaled. I worked in this building every day for a little over six months and sporadical
ly on and off for a year before that, but somehow, it felt foreign. Spotting Jeffrey returning from an errand, I collected my notes and unclipped the pass. “I appreciate the desk and the coffee.” Maneuvering around the counter, I dug around in my purse for my car keys. “Fair warning, I’ll probably be back Friday.”

  “No problem.” He winked. “Maybe I’ll just have to call in sick.”

  “But you’re my favorite security guard.”

  “I’m everyone’s favorite security guard. And it’s executive security guard to you.” He smiled, and snickering, I pulled on the monogrammed brass door handle and exited into the late afternoon sunlight.

  Four

  “It looks like you’re having fun,” Paul Eastman said as he entered the control room. “Anything substantial to report?”

  “The furniture isn’t much more comfortable than the floor,” I remarked, glancing at him before returning my gaze to the row of monitors. “Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Good.” Pulling out a chair, he sat next to me. “Are you feeling better today?”

  “I’m fine.” Small talk wasn’t one of my favorite things. I much preferred silence, even awkward silence.

  “Alexis,” he scooted closer, and I caught the vaguest whiff of something fermented, “I’m just making some friendly chitchat so the hours pass faster. You have to give a guy something to work with.” When I failed to immediately fill the brief pause in conversation, he continued. “What is it? GSW? Stabbing?”

  “Broken bones. Ribs. Again.” I snorted. “They healed much faster the first time, but they aren’t an issue. Just sore sometimes.” My prattling seemed more awkward than the silence, and I wondered why he was showing such an interest. I’d only known him for the last couple of weeks since getting hired on at PDN.

  “How’d it happen?”

  Despite the fact I didn’t want to talk about it, I couldn’t come up with a good enough reason not to. “My last job involved going toe-to-toe with a steroidal bull of a man. Asshole tried to snap me in half.”

  “Ouch.”

  “You could say that.” In order to get him to stop asking questions, I posed one of my own. “When do you think the conference will end? Have they reached an agreement or understanding of what they hope to accomplish with the proposed railway?”

  “They’re merging transportation lines across the European continent. It’s supposed to be some type of bullet train. From my understanding, yesterday, they decided on a design. Today, they’re determining which nations are responsible for the building and maintenance.”

  “No wonder we have diplomats and business tycoons at this meeting of the minds,” I commented more to myself than Paul, “it’s politics and business.”

  “That’s a pretty damn accurate summation.” His chair let out a squeak as he readjusted in the seat. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab a bite after the surveillance is through for the night.”

  “My boyfriend and I have plans,” I lied. Although, I really did need to make plans with Martin soon.

  “I wasn’t asking you out. Why don’t you have him meet us?”

  “Sorry, but no.” A million excuses ran through my head, but there was no need. No was no. It didn’t require any additional qualifiers or explanation.

  “I know this must seem like prying, but are you dating James Martin of Martin Technologies?” I spun in my chair to face him, my mouth practically falling open at this complete intrusion of my privacy. How the hell did he know this? Paul laughed nervously. “I’m not stalking you or anything like that. But Martin Technologies was listed on your résumé, and I have a few friends on the Board. When I called to check your references, well,” he looked embarrassed, “we got to talking.”

  “Is there a point?” My tone was icy.

  “No, just curious.”

  Studying him, I was certain he was lying, but I had no basis for proving it or confronting him. Until now, Paul Eastman didn’t set my radar buzzing, but given that he was asking about Martin, I was suspicious. “Bullshit.” If Paul fired me, then so be it. “What do you really want?”

  “Whoa, hey,” he held up his hands in surrender, “take it easy. I was just asking.” Glaring at him, he realized I wasn’t buying it. “And,” he hesitated, “I overheard the head of one of the engineering companies talking last night after the conference. It was hours after you left. He wanted a meeting with Martin Technologies about an unrelated business proposal. I thought maybe I could convince the CEO to have a chat with him.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I scrutinized Eastman, but I couldn’t determine his motivation. “So you’re such an altruist that you thought you’d help the guy out? I don’t believe you.” I also didn’t believe that he happened to overhear something like that. Coincidences didn’t happen like this.

  “Maybe I mentioned something about having a connection to the company. Perhaps there was some talk of a finder’s fee.”

  “Unbelievable. Is this the only reason you even hired me?” I was always afraid people would use Martin to get to me, but apparently I thought of myself much more highly than the rest of the world.

  “No. Your credentials are amazing.”

  We sat in the uncomfortable, tense control room for another few minutes, but I was fuming. I needed a minute to regroup before I said or did something I would regret. Maybe I was overreacting.

  “Sir,” I wanted to throw something, “pay attention to the monitors since I need to take a break.” There was no question, and as soon as the words left my mouth, I was out of the room.

  Pacing the hallway, I wasn’t sure how to react or what to do. Something was fishy, and I didn’t like it. Unfortunately, I was stuck until a business agreement was reached. As I stormed down the hallway, one of the Secret Service agents stopped me to ask if I was okay. After explaining that everything was fine, I went back to the control room and sat down.

  “What happened to monitor nine?” I asked, noticing the picture was fuzzy and the screen kept flickering. At least it was a nice distraction.

  “I don’t know. Maybe one of the cables is on the fritz.” He picked up the radio and asked someone on level seven to check it out. “Apparently, this place is falling apart without you.”

  “Where do you get the audacity to try to use me to–” I began, but the radio squawked with a cry for assistance. The words were barely even out before the comms went dead. Great. “Stay here,” I growled, halfway out the door.

  The Secret Service agent disappeared down the corridor, and I followed. If the government agents were responding, then this probably wasn’t a drill. Seriously, I left the control room for less than five minutes. All hell should not be breaking loose right now. From what I gathered, the conference was still underway, so whatever it was must not be that dire since it didn’t disrupt the moguls from making more money.

  After descending three flights of stairs, I burst through the stairwell door to find a man swinging from a metal fixture with a thick electrical cable wrapped around his neck like a noose. One of the PDN guards was vomiting in the corner as the Secret Service cordoned off the hallway.

  “Who is he?” I asked, hoping someone would have an answer. I didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t mean a thing. He could be one of PDN’s guys, a federal agent, private security, a hotel employee, one of the diplomats or businessmen, or someone completely random.

  “No I.D.,” one of the agents replied. At least someone was brave enough to check for a pulse and the man’s wallet. “The more important question is is this self-inflicted.” He spun and met my eyes. “Get your people out of the hallway before they contaminate anything else and keep it quiet. Until we have time to process this and gather information, no one’s leaving.”

  “Aye, sir,” I replied, managing to corral the two PDN guards out of the hallway and back to the stairwell. “All nonessential personnel will monitor the area and stop anyone from leaving. Our two guys that found the body will wait in the conference room for your inst
ructions.”

  The agent nodded, radioing the orders to all the other private sector guards as we made the trek upstairs. At least radio communication was up and running again.

  “What did you see?” I asked. Mike Talbot and Kenneth Anderson were the two PDN guards that discovered the body. Kenneth was the one with the weak stomach, and Mike looked ready for a fight. Apparently not everyone who comprised the guard squad at PDN was hardened paramilitary. “Did anything strange happen before you discovered the body?”

  “Nothing, ma’am,” Mike replied, and I gritted my teeth, hating the term ma’am. “We were conducting our normal patrol. We’d already walked it a dozen times when Mr. Eastman radioed that something was up with camera nine. When we diverted to check it out, we found that man hanging from a nearby power cable. I think the electrical interference temporarily shorted out the radio.”

  “Not the camera cable?” I asked. Even though I knew for a fact it was a separate cable, I wanted to test Mike’s recollection. Most people didn’t pay attention, and their subconscious would fill in details, oftentimes inaccurate details.

  “Different cables. I believe those are utility cables, jutting out of the ceiling tiles.”

  “Okay,” I nodded, “anything else you remember?” Mike shook his head, and I turned my gaze to Kenneth as the elevator opened. “Are you okay, Mr. Anderson?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Okay, guys, it’s Alex, not ma’am.” I led them down the hallway to the conference room where we had been briefed two days ago. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Tossing a quick glance at them, I asked, “Do either of you need anything?” They shook their heads, but Kenneth looked far too green for his own good.

  This was ridiculous. The place was crawling with agents, private hotel security, and a slew of bodyguards. No one should be swinging from the rafters, particularly not in a swanky hotel and especially not in one that was bursting with security personnel. Who was this guy? How long was he hanging there dead? And was it suicide or murder? Goddamn.