monitor … the dead girl. So that’s the first I knew what it was about.”
Connor said, “The man you saw. Can you describe him?”
The guard shrugged. “Thirty, thirty-five. Medium height. Dark blue suit like they all wear. Actually he was more hip than most of them. He had this tie with triangles on it. Oh—and a scar on his hand, like a burn or something.”
“Which hand?”
“The left hand. I noticed it when he was closing the briefcase.”
“Could you see inside the briefcase?”
“No.”
“But he was closing it when you came in the room?”
“Yes.”
“Was it your impression he took something from this room?”
“I really couldn’t say, sir.”
Phillips’s evasiveness began to annoy me. I said, “What do you think he took?”
Connor shot me a look.
The guard went bland: “I really don’t know, sir.”
Connor said, “Of course you don’t. There’s no way you could know what was in somebody else’s briefcase. By the way, do you make recordings from the security cameras here?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Could you show me how you do that?”
“Sure thing.” The guard got up from the desk and opened a door at the far end of the room. We followed him into a second small room, almost a closet, stacked floor to ceiling with small metal boxes, each with stenciled notations in Japanese
kanji
script, and numbers in English. Each with a glowing red light, and an LED counter, with numbers running forward.
Phillips said, “These are our recorders. They lay down signals from all the cameras in the building. They’re eight-millimeter, high-definition video.” He held up a small cassette, like an audio cassette. “Each one of these records eight hours. We change over at nine p.m., so that’s the first thing I do when I come on duty. I pop out the old ones, and switch over to the fresh ones.”
“And did you change cassettes tonight, at nine o’clock?”
“Yes, sir. Just like always.”
“And what do you do with the tapes you remove?”
“Keep ’em in the trays down here,” he said, bending to show us several long, thin drawers. “We keep everything off the cameras for seventy-two hours. That’s three days. So we keep nine sets of tapes all together. And we just rotate each set through, once every three days. Get me?”
Connor hesitated. “Perhaps I’d better write this down.” He produced a small pad and a pen. “Now, each tape lasts eight hours, so you have nine different sets.…”
“Right, right.”
Connor wrote for a moment, then shook his pen irritably. “This damn pen. It’s out of ink. You have a wastebasket?”
Phillips pointed to the corner. “Over there.”
“Thank you.”
Connor threw the pen away. I gave him mine. He resumed his notes. “You were saying, Mr. Phillips, that you have nine sets …”
“Right. Each set is numbered with letters, from A to I. Now when I come in at nine, I eject the tapes and see whatever letter is already in there, and put in the next one. Like tonight, I took out set C, so I put in set D, which is what’s recording now.”
“I see,” Connor said. “And then you put tape set C in one of the drawers here?”
“Right.” He pulled open a drawer. “This one here.”
Connor said. “May I?” He glanced at the neatly labeled row of tapes. Then he quickly opened the other drawers, and looked at the other stacks of tapes. Except for the different letters, all the drawers looked identical.
“I think I understand now,” Connor said. “What you actually do is use nine sets in rotation.”
“Exactly.”
“So each set gets used once every three days.”
“Right.”
“And how long has the security office been using this system?”
“The building’s new, but we’ve been going, oh, maybe two months now.”
“I must say it’s a very well-organized system,” Connor said appreciatively. “Thank you for explaining it to us. I have only a couple of other questions.”
“Sure.”
“First of all, these
Connor said, “The man you saw. Can you describe him?”
The guard shrugged. “Thirty, thirty-five. Medium height. Dark blue suit like they all wear. Actually he was more hip than most of them. He had this tie with triangles on it. Oh—and a scar on his hand, like a burn or something.”
“Which hand?”
“The left hand. I noticed it when he was closing the briefcase.”
“Could you see inside the briefcase?”
“No.”
“But he was closing it when you came in the room?”
“Yes.”
“Was it your impression he took something from this room?”
“I really couldn’t say, sir.”
Phillips’s evasiveness began to annoy me. I said, “What do you think he took?”
Connor shot me a look.
The guard went bland: “I really don’t know, sir.”
Connor said, “Of course you don’t. There’s no way you could know what was in somebody else’s briefcase. By the way, do you make recordings from the security cameras here?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Could you show me how you do that?”
“Sure thing.” The guard got up from the desk and opened a door at the far end of the room. We followed him into a second small room, almost a closet, stacked floor to ceiling with small metal boxes, each with stenciled notations in Japanese
kanji
script, and numbers in English. Each with a glowing red light, and an LED counter, with numbers running forward.
Phillips said, “These are our recorders. They lay down signals from all the cameras in the building. They’re eight-millimeter, high-definition video.” He held up a small cassette, like an audio cassette. “Each one of these records eight hours. We change over at nine p.m., so that’s the first thing I do when I come on duty. I pop out the old ones, and switch over to the fresh ones.”
“And did you change cassettes tonight, at nine o’clock?”
“Yes, sir. Just like always.”
“And what do you do with the tapes you remove?”
“Keep ’em in the trays down here,” he said, bending to show us several long, thin drawers. “We keep everything off the cameras for seventy-two hours. That’s three days. So we keep nine sets of tapes all together. And we just rotate each set through, once every three days. Get me?”
Connor hesitated. “Perhaps I’d better write this down.” He produced a small pad and a pen. “Now, each tape lasts eight hours, so you have nine different sets.…”
“Right, right.”
Connor wrote for a moment, then shook his pen irritably. “This damn pen. It’s out of ink. You have a wastebasket?”
Phillips pointed to the corner. “Over there.”
“Thank you.”
Connor threw the pen away. I gave him mine. He resumed his notes. “You were saying, Mr. Phillips, that you have nine sets …”
“Right. Each set is numbered with letters, from A to I. Now when I come in at nine, I eject the tapes and see whatever letter is already in there, and put in the next one. Like tonight, I took out set C, so I put in set D, which is what’s recording now.”
“I see,” Connor said. “And then you put tape set C in one of the drawers here?”
“Right.” He pulled open a drawer. “This one here.”
Connor said. “May I?” He glanced at the neatly labeled row of tapes. Then he quickly opened the other drawers, and looked at the other stacks of tapes. Except for the different letters, all the drawers looked identical.
“I think I understand now,” Connor said. “What you actually do is use nine sets in rotation.”
“Exactly.”
“So each set gets used once every three days.”
“Right.”
“And how long has the security office been using this system?”
“The building’s new, but we’ve been going, oh, maybe two months now.”
“I must say it’s a very well-organized system,” Connor said appreciatively. “Thank you for explaining it to us. I have only a couple of other questions.”
“Sure.”
“First of all, these
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