Alli by Kurt Zimmerman Page A

above was a mystery to Perez. Dozens of people came and went, but the building was equipped with only four elevators that came to the first floor, and they only serviced the bottom three floors. He had no idea how many elevators went between the third and top floors only, but the four that came to the first floor never went above floor three. It was a strange building arrangement, but Security Chief Perez was only concerned with the bottom two floors, and the fact that Randy Fairchild’s inquiries had caused the firing of a cute receptionist.
    The third person in the senator’s office that spring morning was the trusted Ameriplaxi contract employee who was in charge of security for the upper eight floors of the Call Center. Perez assumed he was also a private contractor, but whose credentials had earned him a higher security clearance than his own. Chief Perez had seen him visit the Call Center building on several occasions. This man, impeccably dressed, was always in the right place, with the right people, at the right time.
    His name was Carl Frazier.
     
    Chapter Thirteen
    “No, I don’t think you killed Doctor Johnson, but I think whatever you and Carl are working on led to his death. That’s what I need to know about.” Detective Michelle Miller gave Randy a few moments for that statement to sink in before continuing. It dawned on her that she was actually enjoying this meeting. “Carl said you suspect something strange is going on at the Call Center, and I can honestly tell you that I have thought the same thing for a long time now. There is a shroud of secrecy over that project that I’ve always wondered about. I was a beat cop when they were initiating that program, and everything that went into that building was top secret.”
    “Another unusual thing about the call center is the parking situation,” she continued. “They built a huge parking ramp across the street to handle the employee cars, but all the while I was assigned a beat down in that area, the parking ramp was never more than half full. That building is big enough to house thousands of workers, but I bet there can’t be more than a couple of hundred people who work there. That should make finding your mystery girl a fairly easy task.”
    “I know it probably sounds a little desperate, but the few conversations between me and this Alli girl were exceptional,” Randy offered. “It was like I had known her my entire life. But every time we talked about getting together or having lunch or dinner, the call would get interrupted, as if someone was monitoring the call. But even the Feds don’t have enough people to monitor every call. It must have been electronically key-word triggered, or it was a series of incredible coincidences.”
    “I also spoke to a receptionist in the main lobby on two different occasions,” Randy continued. “After I finally convinced her to help me contact Alli, she disappeared. I tried to locate her outside of her work, but there are 479 people listed as Jessica Cooper in the United States alone, and over a dozen in the greater Washington DC area.”
    “Well,” Michelle offered, “if she worked at the call center, she must have lived nearby. Twelve is not a huge number to check out, and if you have a good description of the receptionist, I can probably rule out the majority of those twelve in a few hours of checking.”
    “But frankly,” Michelle continued, “the more pressing issue that I have to deal with is the murder of Doctor Johnson. I have seen plenty of muggings and murders, and unless the victim is known by the perpetrator, the victim’s wallet usually goes missing. Doctor Johnson’s wallet was still in his pocket, so either the perp got frightened off before he found it, or the good doctor was killed by someone who knew him. He was shot in the shoulder and the chest, so it was either a sloppy hit, a hit that was made to look like a robbery, or a coincidental shooting. I don’t believe in