I’m going to issue a citation against you and file a grievance with your corporation, which might also result in a fine levied against them for interfering with a police investigation.”
Mr. Gerber didn’t require much time to think that over. “We’re not at the L’Engle tonight. That job isn’t for a couple more weeks. Let me check the schedule.”
I waited.
He looked back at the screen and shook his head. “Like I said, we don’t have that job for two more weeks.”
“Three men with corporate IDs and licenses were here at the L’Engle tonight.”
“Can’t be our guys.”
I read the names of the three men.
Gerber’s eyes tightened and he frowned. “Those men are part of our crew. But they’re not at the L’Engle. They’re at the Akers Office Building.”
“Have you checked on them?”
“No. Let me do that.” Gerber tapped keys on his PAD. “My GPS shows they’re at Akers.”
I knew they hadn’t left the building. “Are you using bio-GPS readings or their e-cards?”
“Bio. A guy can leave his e-card anywhere. You want to know where he really is, you trace the e-ID you put inside of him.”
That was what the NAPD did, too.
“Trace the e-cards.”
Gerber did, then he shook his head. “According to the GPS, those three e-cards are at the L’Engle.”
I triggered an alert to Dispatch to send a patrol hopper to the Akers building to check on the cleaning crew. I was certain I knew what they would find. I didn’t mention this to Gerber. I had another task I wanted him involved with before he got distracted.
“I need the files on those men.”
“Of course. I’ll send them now.” He busied himself with his PAD.
As soon as the files arrived, I checked them. Ernest Powell, Ryan Biltmore, and Tony Chavez were all employees with good records at Quality.
None of them belonged to the faces I’d turned up using their names. I pushed into the hotel’s service records check for Quality and confirmed that the hotel manager had checked out the IDs of the three “Quality” workers. Copies of their digital IDs were on file. The faces were of the three men I’d turned up.
I let the other programs cycle on their own and concentrated on the three faces I’d found. I ran them through all of the exits, checking for their departure. I found none.
Widening my search, I accessed the street cams and went through the files. Prior to the murder, I logged their arrival through the hotel’s maintenance doors. That was the checkpoint they’d come through.
I ran through the street cam vids twice, but only because I knew Shelly would ask me to do it twice. The three men hadn’t exited through doorways, windows, or the hopper pad.
I logged out of the hotel mainframe.
The murderers were still in the building.
*
When I stepped back into real-time in the hotel room, Dr. Marcus Seward had arrived from the medical examiner’s office. He was a genial man, short and portly, and very easy-going. Unfortunately, he related better to corpses than he did with me. He did, however, get along well with Shelly.
I walked up to join Shelly while Seward ran a diagnostic on Richard Smith. Seward wore a simple black suit and carried a black medical doctor’s bag that was a personal affectation. He might practice on the dead, but he always stayed ready to help the living.
Seward consulted the readings on the small, hand-held diagnostic device he held over the dead man’s chest and then his stomach. “You said his name is Smith?”
Shelly nodded. “That’s the name he gave the hotel.”
“Well, he gave his transplant surgeon a different name.”
“He’s had transplants?”
“Yeah.” Seward put the device into his black bag. “High-end stuff. Cloned heart and kidneys, partial liver.”
Transplants were medically recorded and tagged in the event of an emergency involving those organs needing a consultation with the transplant doctor. Records could be delivered automatically to an emergency room
Mr. Gerber didn’t require much time to think that over. “We’re not at the L’Engle tonight. That job isn’t for a couple more weeks. Let me check the schedule.”
I waited.
He looked back at the screen and shook his head. “Like I said, we don’t have that job for two more weeks.”
“Three men with corporate IDs and licenses were here at the L’Engle tonight.”
“Can’t be our guys.”
I read the names of the three men.
Gerber’s eyes tightened and he frowned. “Those men are part of our crew. But they’re not at the L’Engle. They’re at the Akers Office Building.”
“Have you checked on them?”
“No. Let me do that.” Gerber tapped keys on his PAD. “My GPS shows they’re at Akers.”
I knew they hadn’t left the building. “Are you using bio-GPS readings or their e-cards?”
“Bio. A guy can leave his e-card anywhere. You want to know where he really is, you trace the e-ID you put inside of him.”
That was what the NAPD did, too.
“Trace the e-cards.”
Gerber did, then he shook his head. “According to the GPS, those three e-cards are at the L’Engle.”
I triggered an alert to Dispatch to send a patrol hopper to the Akers building to check on the cleaning crew. I was certain I knew what they would find. I didn’t mention this to Gerber. I had another task I wanted him involved with before he got distracted.
“I need the files on those men.”
“Of course. I’ll send them now.” He busied himself with his PAD.
As soon as the files arrived, I checked them. Ernest Powell, Ryan Biltmore, and Tony Chavez were all employees with good records at Quality.
None of them belonged to the faces I’d turned up using their names. I pushed into the hotel’s service records check for Quality and confirmed that the hotel manager had checked out the IDs of the three “Quality” workers. Copies of their digital IDs were on file. The faces were of the three men I’d turned up.
I let the other programs cycle on their own and concentrated on the three faces I’d found. I ran them through all of the exits, checking for their departure. I found none.
Widening my search, I accessed the street cams and went through the files. Prior to the murder, I logged their arrival through the hotel’s maintenance doors. That was the checkpoint they’d come through.
I ran through the street cam vids twice, but only because I knew Shelly would ask me to do it twice. The three men hadn’t exited through doorways, windows, or the hopper pad.
I logged out of the hotel mainframe.
The murderers were still in the building.
*
When I stepped back into real-time in the hotel room, Dr. Marcus Seward had arrived from the medical examiner’s office. He was a genial man, short and portly, and very easy-going. Unfortunately, he related better to corpses than he did with me. He did, however, get along well with Shelly.
I walked up to join Shelly while Seward ran a diagnostic on Richard Smith. Seward wore a simple black suit and carried a black medical doctor’s bag that was a personal affectation. He might practice on the dead, but he always stayed ready to help the living.
Seward consulted the readings on the small, hand-held diagnostic device he held over the dead man’s chest and then his stomach. “You said his name is Smith?”
Shelly nodded. “That’s the name he gave the hotel.”
“Well, he gave his transplant surgeon a different name.”
“He’s had transplants?”
“Yeah.” Seward put the device into his black bag. “High-end stuff. Cloned heart and kidneys, partial liver.”
Transplants were medically recorded and tagged in the event of an emergency involving those organs needing a consultation with the transplant doctor. Records could be delivered automatically to an emergency room
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