“Are we doing this or what?” I asked.
“What’s the plan?”
“Take this”—I handed him two small devices, one a camera feed looper, the other a monitor—“and tap into the feed for the security door at the rear. Signal me once you’ve got it looped, then I’ll override the security on the door, and Bob’s your uncle. I’ll take care of the rest. Understood?”
“It’s monkey.”
I pointed a finger at him. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
He opened the door, stepped out then closed it. “Can you hear me now?”
“Loud and clear. You?”
“Perfectly. Let’s git ’er done.”
He strode off, entering the station, and I waited.
“Security’s light. Not a lot of people around, which will make me a little more noticeable.”
“Well, only if you’re the only rock star cowboy there.”
“Hey, whadaya know, there’s some kind of cool convention going on, I’m not alone.”
He cleared his throat, our signal that he couldn’t talk. In those situations, I always find it’s best if the other person doesn’t talk either, so as not to distract the person.
I waited.
A few moments later I heard a door open, a toilet flush, a sink, then the door again. A stall door.
“Okay, I’m alone and in. Air duct access is exactly where you said it would be.”
“Of course.”
“Mighty confident in ourselves aren’t we.” I heard his power screwdriver working on the screws.
“Don’t forget to clip the sensor.
“Already done.”
He grunted and I heard the panel slide away, then some more grunts and groans. “Okay, I’m in, putting the panel back in place.” A panel slid. “So, this is what a sardine feels like.”
“Get your butt moving before you turn into some nice convict’s desert.”
“Don’t make me laugh, everything echoes in here. Radio silence until I reach my destination.”
“10-4.” The wait was almost unbearable. All I could hear was the sound of him crawling, the occasional grunt or heavy breath, and the terrifying sound of the metal duct popping. I clenched my bag of tricks, my knuckles white, my heart pounding in my chest. Come on!
“I’m here,” he whispered.
“Good, don’t forget to—”
“Already done.”
More grunting as he worked at the grate from the wrong side.
“Success.”
Some more sounds. “I’m in. Opening the access panel now.”
“There’s two panels, it’s the one on the right.”
“Perfect memory, remember?”
“I’ll shut up now.”
“Why? I enjoy hearing your voice.”
My heart skipped a beat, and I said nothing.
“I’m in, searching.” I waited for a minute or two, all the while my heart pounding, then he finally said something. “Got it! Rear security door, looping it now.” A pause. “Done, everything is good.”
“Okay, heading there now. If you see me on the looped feed, you let me know, because you shouldn’t.”
“O yee of little faith.”
I climbed from the car and walked quickly to the utility door that led straight to the security server room. I looked around, since looping didn’t affect guards’ eyes, and found myself alone, with a nice, big, bright light over the door.
I felt naked.
I pulled out a handy little device Zander had picked up from one of his more shady contacts, and held it up to the security card reader. Unlike the movies, there were no flashing lights or beeping sounds, those could be seen and heard. It did its job, then vibrated when it was done.
“Have you looped the second camera yet?”
“Hope so. All these damned corridors look alike.”
“Zee!” I hissed.
He chuckled. “Go, you’re clear.”
I opened the door slightly, making sure the other side was indeed clear, then stepped inside, closing the door behind me.
I stood there for a moment, calming myself, then looked up at the security camera. I flipped it the bird, knowing Zander would be watching, then sprinted down the hall to the server room. Again I used the card reader bypass device, and was inside. It wasn’t too exciting, just a few racks of blade style servers. I stepped over to one of the interface terminals, plugged a USB key into the front of it, and moments later was in.
From there it was easy. Just find the directory tree where the surveillance was kept, pull up the time codes that matched the ticket he had taken for parking, then pull everything for the next two hours. I hooked up an external four terabyte drive, and began transferring data.
“How’s it going in there, Syd?”
“Transferring now. There’s a lot of cameras. It’s going to take some time.”
“Okay, just don’t dilly dally, we’re both”—he stopped—“wait a minute.” His voice turned to a whisper. I pressed my earpiece hard against my ear and I heard what sounded like a door opening.
“Hey, who are you?”
“Maintenance,” I heard Zander answer.
“Dressed like that? I don’t think so.”
I told you Zee!
“I was on my way home, they asked me to look at something, so I did.”
“Bull—”
There was a burst of sounds, sounds I couldn’t make sense of, but there were grunts, yelps, muffled noises. Sounds of a struggle.
“Zee!”
A moment later the sounds stopped.
“Zee! Are you okay?”
Still nothing. My heart started to climb into my throat, and I felt sick.
Then a burst of static.
“Syd, are you there?”
“Zee! What the hell happened?”
“The mike got knocked off in the fight, sorry. He’s out cold, but his buddies will be looking for him soon.”
“Okay, I’m still copying, should only be a few more minutes.”
“Well, since we can no longer conceal we were here, I’m going to remove the equipment and head on out to meet you. Just make sure your face is covered when you leave that room. We wouldn’t want you on the evening news.”
“Fine, see you outside.”
I turned my attention to the console, rapidly dragging files over to the queue, which quickly, but not quickly enough, transferred the files to the external drive. Each camera had a directory, each day had a directory under that, then each file was split into one hour intervals, making it at least a little easier. If they had been daily files we’d have been screwed, but even the guys who owned this data recognized they had to make it easy for themselves as well.
While I was doing this I heard Zander retracing his steps. He couldn’t exactly step out into the hallway of the room he was in, it was a secure area and he’d be stopped for sure, so back through the ductwork he went. If he was smart, which I knew he was—brilliant in fact—he had kept his hat low and his collar up, and hadn’t looked up on his way to the bathroom, and would remember to do the same on his way out. They would catch him on camera, but wouldn’t have a face.
Except for the fact he wore such distinctive clothing.
But, it was plausible deniability. He’d simply say it wasn’t him, and they couldn’t prove it. They would have nothing. Unless—
“Zee, did you remember your gloves?”
“Of course.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, dragging another file over and moving to the next camera. I sometimes wondered how his perfect memory worked. He recalled every detail of everything that had ever happened to him. But did he remember everything. Recalling events was one thing, you thought of it, and you remembered. But did he ever forget to brush his teeth in the morning, forget his keys, forget to wear gloves when he didn’t want to leave fingerprints?
I’ll have to try and remember to ask him that.
“I’m clear.”
Another sigh of relief fro
m me. Now at least I knew if I were caught, someone on the outside would be working to free me. I dragged the last file over when the alarm went off.
I watched the progress bar slowly inch its way to the right, all the while me jumping in place like I needed to pee. “Come on come on come on come on!”
Done!
I unhooked the drive and USB key, shoved them in my bag, then flipped it over my shoulder. I rushed to the door, pulling the face mask down, just as it opened. Without thinking I snap kicked the guy in the chest, sending him sailing backward. He smacked the wall hard and slid to the floor, momentarily stunned. I raced down the hall, yells from other guards behind me.
I didn’t look. I reached the door, shoved against the bar and it wouldn’t open.
“Zee! The door won’t open!”
“Just a second, I’m almost there.”
Now I looked.
Two guards, guns drawn, raced toward me.
I slowly raised my hands.
There was a screeching behind me, the sound of metal bending. I looked back and saw the door rip off its hinges, and the glorious black of night revealed to me.
And Zander’s hand reaching in, grabbing me by the shirt, hauling me outside. He had to drag me for a few moments until I realized what was happening, the shock of seeing a door ripped from its hinges only moments before I was about to officially become a criminal finally wearing off.
We sprinted to his car and jumped inside. The engine roared to life and Zander floored it, peeling away just as the guards reached us. But it was too late. Within seconds we were out of the train station, and minutes later, out of sight.
“Flip the plates, out of state.”
I nodded, reaching into the glove compartment and pressing a button. I closed the compartment. “Done.” And that was just one of the many cool things Zander had installed in his ’69 Ford Mustang. He had four sets of plates available. His legal set for New York, that he drove day to day, two different sets of stolen plates, and one out of state plate, legally registered to him. If we were pulled over with these plates, they’d run them, and they’d come up legit. We just happened to be driving the same type of vehicle they were looking for, but there’d be no match to the plates.
We remained silent the entire ride back to the office, me catching my breath, trying to calm down the drummer in my chest. Zander pulled into the parking garage, parked, and we both climbed out of the vehicle, but not before he reached over and flipped the plates back to his New York set.
Back in the safety of his office, we both flopped on his couch.
“That was close,” I said.
“Too close.”
I held up the bag. “But hopefully worth it.”
“Hopefully.” He motioned for me to hand him the bag. “Now, I’ll go through these, you head back to your hotel and get some rest. When you come in, you can continue going through the footage, and I’ll catch some sleep. No point wasting two pairs of eyes on the same stuff.”
I wanted to protest but he was right. I yawned. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I stood up and so did he. He gave me a hug and a kiss on the forehead.
“You did good tonight, Syd.”
I smiled at him, looking up into his eyes. And I knew I had to get out of there right away.
TWENTY
It turned out to be rather anti-climactic. After only minutes of sipping on my special blend, viewing the footage on the hard drive, I found him. I had decided to focus on the parking lot cameras first since that was the one place I knew he was. After jumping through a bunch of feeds, renaming each directory as a description of what it was viewing for later, I found the one showing the section of short-term parking his car was found in, and selecting the proper file for the hour we knew he parked based upon his ticket issued by the machine, I spotted him pull in.
And he just sat there.
I sped through the footage and was forced to go to the next file before he finally exited the car, leaned back in presumably to leave his wallet, keys and note, then closed the door and marched directly toward the main entrance of the terminal.
I flipped back to one of the directories I had renamed earlier, which had a view of the main entrance, selected the proper file, and soon had him on camera entering the complex. Hunting around I found several more views that captured him marching straight through the terminal, then he suddenly made a beeline to the right.
Another camera showed him approach a group of storage lockers. He retrieved a key from his pocket and opened one of the lockers. I watched as he removed a briefcase, then closed the door. He opened the case, removed several items including what looked like a wallet and phone, stuffing them in his pockets, then closed it, strolling casually back into the main thoroughfare of the terminal, and toward the platforms. Within minutes he was boarding a train, and I was looking up the number to find the destination.
Detroit!
I wasn’t one to believe in coincidences, but then again, I had never believed in vampires. If I tied his wife to the private club, could this actually not be an innocent case of a husband fleeing the law, but of a husband fleeing to become a thrall? With one of Lazarus’ key henchmen in Detroit, could Lazarus be headquartered there now?
The sun broke through the slats in the blinds, and I got up to shut them. I lay down and closed my eyes, my mind racing. Why would Lazarus target a big Wall Street type? Normally they went after the weak, the young, the beautiful. McKinly was none of those.
I sighed as I felt myself begin to slip away.
Maybe I’m just paranoid. Maybe it was just a coincidence.
Or maybe…
TWENTY-ONE
The day felt like it had dragged forever. Too much studying. I had decided that since my life revolved around information gathering and kicking ass, Computer Science was the way to go, but with a specialty in security. I was learning all about how computer security worked, how information systems were guarded from prying eyes. It was fascinating, but also boring at times, because I had learned how to hack into most systems by the time I was fifteen. But it was the physical systems I was weak on. These were what Mom had been teaching me before the accident.
Sure I could probably break into most things, but I hadn’t had the experience. I had the theory, but had only broken into real buildings a few times, with Mom doing most of the work, and me observing. Now I had to learn on my own. It was a bit intimidating, but knowing Zander would always be there to back me up, to bail me out if need be, and to help me disappear and create a new life if it truly went to hell.
God, I hope that never happens.
Dad would be all alone.
Tears filled my eyes and I wiped them clean as I pulled into the parking garage. I parked beside Zander’s car, and a few minutes later was unlocking the office door, stepping inside quietly, not wanting to wake him just in case.
I heard voices.
One was yelling. Sort of. It was definitely raised.
“That’s a load of BS!”
“What can I tell you, Detective, I was here, working on a case last night.”
Uh oh!
“Your car was spotted leaving the scene at two forty-five this morning. A man fitting your description, and a woman fitting the description of that hot little number you’ve got working with you were seen there.”
“Pardon me, Detective, but that ‘hot little number’ has a name, and I won’t have you disrespect her by referring to her like that.”
Way to go Zee, defend my honor!
The detective sounded flustered. Then I heard Zander deliver the knockout punch.
“So, did they get the plates?”
“Yes.” The voice was lower now.
“And?”
“Stolen years ago.”
“And if I know you, you checked my car.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“No match. But you could have switched them.”
“But?”
He grunted. “But your screws ar
e all rusted in place, no evidence they’ve been unscrewed in years.”
“So?”
“Don’t push me. A guy wearing a black ankle length jacket and a barmah, driving an old Mustang, at the same train station where a person you’re looking for was last seen? I don’t know how you did it, but you did.”
“Really, Detective, there can be a million explanations. Besides—”
“He was with me last night,” I said, stepping into the office.
“Hi, Syd!” Zander beamed a smile at me, and I knew my timing was perfect.
“Good morning, Zee.” I stifled a forced yawn and stretched a bit. “We were here all evening and well into the night. I didn’t get back to the hotel until almost four.”
“Hotel?”
I nodded, looking at the detective whom I recognized. Jansen had been around our offices a number of times over the years, but this was the first time I had spoken to him. My mother had always dealt with him. Suddenly I wondered if she was the ‘hot little number’. “My family’s house was broken into and ransacked the other day.”
He suddenly looked concerned. “Is your mother okay?”
I guess she was the hot little number. “My mother is in a coma, but not from that. From a car accident months ago.”
He blanched. “I’m sorry to hear that. She was—is—a terrific woman.” He jabbed his thumb at Zander. “She seemed always to be able to keep this one on a tight leash.” His eyes elevatored me. “Are you now working here?”
“I’m filling in for my mother, yes.”
He frowned. “Get out while you can.”
I laughed. “Why?”
“This is no business for smart women.” He turned to Zander. “I’m watching you. Breaking into the security room at a train station could get you arrested as a damned terrorist! What were you thinking?”
“As I said—”
“You had nothing to do with it! I know.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I checked, and he got on a train for Detroit.”
“I thought you were off the case.”
“Officially, I am, but something just doesn’t add up.”
“Like?”
Turned (Zander Vargar Vampire Detective, Book #1) Page 12
