by G. K. Parks
“Hey, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Did you get my message?”
“Yes, but I’m not calling because of that. I’m calling because of whatever Luc wants. What’s going on?”
“You don’t work here anymore, so it’s entirely up to you if you want to address this issue.”
“What issue?” I hated it when he was intentionally vague.
“There’s something wrong with one of the emergency protocols within our security system. The entire MT security system, not just this building, and Guillot was hoping since you devised the plans that you would consider coming back to evaluate the situation.”
“How long?” I didn’t want to work for MT when I was sleeping with the big boss, even though Martin did all he could to separate our private life from our professional one.
“A month or two. I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”
“All right.” I sighed. “I’ll call him after four, and with any luck, he’ll be available then. Right now, I have to convince someone else that security needs further revisions. Why is this the story of my life?”
“It’s better than killers and kidnappers, isn’t it?”
“I guess,” I hedged. He knew how neurotic I could be, so there was no need for qualification on that statement. “I promise we’ll get together before you leave, but I don’t know when yet. But I’ll see you soon.”
“I’m holding you to that, Alex.” He lowered his voice. “Stay safe. I love you.”
“I know. Me too.”
Two
Standing in the basement, Eastman and I were assessing the security situation. The three questionable doors were sealed shut, but anyone with some spare time and a blowtorch could get them open. A few of his guys were reviewing the blueprints, and one of the local fire chiefs came by to explain the architectural changes.
“Was the city planner busy?” I remarked, snarky as always. “What about someone from metro? They probably know the old subway lines better than most.”
“Odd,” Eastman glanced in my direction, “there wasn’t any mention of insubordination in your employee records.”
“Probably because it’s just so prevalent it didn’t need to be expounded on.” I smirked and flipped to another page of building schematics. “Obviously, there isn’t much we can do to permanently shut the doors. As far as anyone knows, they’re already sealed.”
“But you disagree?” Eastman raised a questioning eyebrow, and the fire chief let out a snort.
“She’s right, y’know.” He flipped through the database on his tablet. “We fielded a couple of calls a few months back. There were abandoned tunnels, closed off for years, that we discovered dozens of people living inside. Nothing remains shut forever.”
“Chief, do you think a couple of your guys can take us down to check the doors from the other side?” I asked.
“Fine by me.” He radioed to a few of his men to drop by and escort us through the abandoned system.
“Maybe you could post a few more guards in the tunnels,” I suggested to Paul, “that way the doors are secure from both sides.”
“It’s no wonder people don’t mention what a pain in the ass you are since you’re actually a decent consultant.”
“I was surprised too.” I grinned, and he rolled his eyes at the comment. “Other than that, I’d say PDN is set to monitor the perimeter and assist the Secret Service. I didn’t find any other obvious flaws in your planning.”
“Great,” he remarked, nonplussed. “Let’s take a walk, Alexis, and we’ll check out those doors together.”
“Whatever you say, sir.” My personality has a habit of getting in the way. Flippant comments and sarcasm were the two most powerful weapons in my arsenal, and as of yet, there was no discernible on or off switch to the jibes. Thankfully, Eastman was only a stickler for procedure and not for what some may construe to be disrespectful banter.
Led by a couple of firefighters who seemed less than enthused to be our tour guides, we made our way through the city’s underbelly. Using a nearby maintenance shaft, we gained access to the abandoned tunnels that led to the hotel’s sealed subbasement. On the way, one of the chattier firemen asked why we were interested in sealed doors that led to a sealed floor, and Paul gestured that I should answer that question. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a great answer, even though it still seemed reasonable to me.
“It’s a possible security threat. C’mon, guys, you have all those fire codes. How many of them can you guarantee will lead to a fire?” I questioned.
“They all could,” one of the men answered, realizing the point of my analogy. “Fine. I’m just thankful you’re not consulting for us.” He glanced back at my boss and then at me. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I replied as we reached the third door. “Why don’t you take a crack at this one?” The firefighter yanked on the door handle then took a crowbar and tried to pry it open. It was bolted and sealed. After a minute of metal clanging, he gave up. “How long would it take to get one of these doors open?”
“With the proper equipment, under eight minutes,” he responded.
“What type of equipment would you need?” Paul asked while I surveyed the dimly lit, abandoned subway tracks, checking for other maintenance paths and entrances.
“Some heavy-duty equipment,” the firefighter began, and I caught the gist of the gear needed to burn through the metal door.
Honestly, the doors didn’t pose much of a security risk. My earlier assessment might have been premature. After climbing back up the maintenance shaft and resurfacing in the light of day, I thanked the men and headed back to the hotel with Eastman.
“Satisfied?” he asked, knowing our outing proved that his current security plans were still viable.
“Yes, but I would suggest posting a permanent guard in the basement, just in case. It’s rather unlikely, but you never know.”
“Did I hear you volunteer?” He smiled, and I realized my stint working for PDN would now include sentry duty for three derelict doors in addition to everything else. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.
“Apparently,” I growled as we went inside the hotel to perform a final set of drills before the conference tomorrow.
I shadowed the teams as they conducted their equipment checks, door checks, and security implementation review. Then I went upstairs to the control room and watched as everyone performed as planned. Constant roving sweeps, patrols, and a strongly visible security presence was the role PDN was playing. The actual government agents were keeping much lower profiles. They hoped to blend in with the business and political types in order to better ensure security. Hell, we were basically decoys.
“One more time on the contingencies for power outage, medical emergency, and fire,” Eastman instructed on the comms, and his teams performed as expected. If only real life were this calculating, there wouldn’t be any problems. But real life was messy. There was nothing surgical or practiced about what could happen, and I just hoped that everything would go off without a hitch. Any hiccups in the plan would most likely be dealt with by someone’s private security or a government agent. We were window decoration that marched well and looked good on paper. “Great job. Reconvene in the main conference room for our final briefing.” The radio squawked, and I remembered just how much I loathed two-way communication.
As the Secret Service agent described in extreme minutiae what PDN’s role was and how to avoid impeding the actual agents, I checked the time. It was a little after four-thirty, and I wanted to step out to call Guillot. The longer the droning continued, the more I realized just how pointless PDN really was. We were toy soldiers in a sea of former Special Forces. It was sad and somewhat disappointing, but these were the types of gigs consultants ended up with. Waiting impatiently for the briefing to end, as soon as the room opened to questions, I ducked out, dialing Guillot on the way.
“Mademoiselle Parker,” he answered, not surprised to hear from me thanks to Martin, “how are you?”
>
“Monsieur Guillot,” I replied, knowing he enjoyed some familiarity with his native language on occasion, “I’m bogged down with a job at the moment, but your message sounded urgent. What’s wrong with the security implementations?” Several months ago, I was assigned to completely overhaul the security system from equipment to training. Obviously, whatever went wrong was my fault.
“There’s an issue with the elevators,” he began, struggling to find the proper method of describing it. “We were conducting our monthly check, and a few of the security officers brought this to my attention.”
“Okay, I’ll need to see the report they filed. Is Jeffrey Myers back on guard duty?” Myers was head of security, and he was easy to work with. “I can speak to him and figure out how complicated the issue really is.”
“So you’ll fix it?” Guillot sounded surprised.
“Well, it was my screwup.” I took a breath. “That is, if you trust me to fix it.”
“Of course. Shall I have HR draft a consulting contract?”
“Not yet. Let me see how complicated the issue is before MT hires me again. I feel like I burned some bridges when I left.”
“Nonsense.” He lowered his voice. “There’s always a place for you here, regardless of your relationship with James.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like mixing business with pleasure, but I’ll be by to correct this problem later in the week. My schedule is booked for the next few days, so it’ll probably be Thursday afternoon or Friday morning.” While I spoke, a few Secret Service agents left the room, signifying the briefing was concluded.
“D’accord. The report will be in the security office, awaiting your arrival.”
Disconnecting, I turned around to find Paul waiting for me. He narrowed his eyes and watched as I shoved my cell phone into my pocket. “I take it you didn’t have any questions for the Secret Service.”
“They’ve been doing this awhile. I think they have it under control.” I hesitated before adding, “What else do you want from me? I’ve reviewed your procedures, double-checked all your employee backgrounds, and cross-referenced them to the foreign parties. Everyone is clear. The plan is clear, and all systems are go.”
“Come with me,” he instructed, leading the way down the corridor and to one of the suites in the hotel. He slid the keycard through the slot and held the door. Entering, I gave him a quizzical look, and he shrugged. “This room was rented so I could stay close in case there was any type of problem.”
“And people think I can’t separate from the job,” I quipped.
“Take a seat.” He gestured to the couch, and I sat primly. “Do you drink?”
“On occasion. I don’t have a problem in case that’s what you’re asking.”
“It wasn’t.” He pulled a can of beer from the mini-fridge and held it in my direction, but I shook my head. “Just for the record, neither do I.” He popped the top and took a sip before sitting in the chair across from me. “Your résumé is impressive. It seems you could have your pick of consulting work anywhere you want. And with the scuttlebutt I’ve been hearing from the government employees, I’d say you could get your old job back in a heartbeat.” I stared, not wanting to voice a protest when I was still unaware of the point of this dialogue. “So tell me, what is PDN really doing at this international business conference?”
“Putting on a good show. I’m sure you must have realized that.”
“That was my first inclination, but after they made everyone go through the government background checks and psych exams, I thought maybe I was wrong.” Judging from his tone, he found the thought of his team being solely for show disheartening.
“Everyone coming and going has to pass the same background checks, just look at the hotel employees and caterers, but I’d say it’s safe to assume that your role in all of this is miniscule.”
“When did you realize it?” he asked.
“The moment the Secret Service said they were still monitoring the situation.”
“Then why’d we check out those doors this afternoon?”
“Sometimes, the government agencies still miss things. Honestly, I believed the doors could be a possible breach point, but after our tour through the tunnels, it seems unlikely.”
“Are there any other breach points that you noticed?” he asked, taking another swig from the can.
I stood and went to the window, noticing his luggage in the corner of the room. The guy must have been staying at the hotel so he’d be around to deal with any possible problems or threats, and I just told him it was for nothing. Like I concluded, lack of an official role really sucked.
“Everything is covered by one security entity or another. Maybe the roof would be viable, but that would require a helicopter. The large windows on the sides of the building could also pose a danger, but that would mean targeting a specific individual in a gun’s scope or a breach by a team with extensive rappelling capabilities. Frankly, if any of those things occur, duck and cover because the situation will turn into a bloodbath.” Turning around, he didn’t seem shocked by my commentary.
“So we’re window dressing,” he finished the can and put it on the table. “You know, Alexis, I tried to join the military ages ago, but I couldn’t get in on account of an irregular heartbeat. Then I tried to join one of these government agencies, but I was rejected for lack of experience and education. Finally, I applied to the police academy, and they rejected me for the same reason the military did. Private security is all I’ve ever known.” He shut his eyes and shook his head. “Just once, I’d like to think something I do actually makes a difference.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” I wasn’t one for pep talks. Too much doom and gloom ran through my veins. “There’s no way of knowing what kind of an impact your job may have made. Hell,” I glanced around the room, “who knows what’s gonna happen at this conference. With any luck, everything will run smoothly, and if it does, just remember, that’s probably because you ran countless drills and made sure all the contingencies were in order.”
“Yeah, like that does anything.”
“An outward show of security can be a great deterrent. That’s why convenience stores sometimes leave broken surveillance cameras posted on the walls. If someone thinks they’re being watched, they won’t steal anything.”
“And you think the same principle applies here?”
“I know it does. And so does the government agency that approved PDN for this gig. They wouldn’t have asked for your help if they didn’t need it. So remember that.” I collected my purse from the couch. “Was there anything else you needed tonight, sir?”
“Not unless you wanted to join me for dinner. The room service here is killer.”
“I’ll pass. See you tomorrow at oh eight hundred.” I opened the door. “I’ll be the one in the basement, making sure the sealed doors stay sealed.” As I pulled the door shut behind me, I shook my head and let out a growl. Since when did consulting require cheerleading, pep talks, and being asked to dinner? He was lucky my firearm was locked in my car after the day I had.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
G.K. Parks is the author of the Alexis Parker series. The first novel, Likely Suspects, tells the story of Alexis’ first foray into the private sector.
G.K. Parks received a Bachelor of Arts in Political Science and History. After spending some time in law school, G.K. changed paths and earned a Master of Arts in Criminology/Criminal Justice. Now all that education is being put to use creating a fictional world based upon years of study and research.
You can find additional information on G.K. Parks and the Alexis Parker series by visiting our website at
www.alexisparkerseries.com
Full-length Novels in the Alexis Parker Series:
Likely Suspects
The
Warhol Incident
Mimicry of Banshees
Suspicion of Murder
Racing Through Darkness
Camels and Corpses
Lack of Jurisdiction
Dying for a Fix
Intended Target
Muffled Echoes
Crisis of Conscience
Misplaced Trust
Whitewashed Lies
On Tilt
Prequel Alexis Parker Novellas:
Outcomes and Perspective: The Complete Prequel Series
Assignment Zero (Prequel series, #1)
Agent Prerogative (Prequel series, #2)
The Final Chapter (Prequel series, #3)
Julian Mercer Novels
Condemned
Betrayal
Subversion
