Part 28 (2/2)

She looked up and saw her father standing near the pastries, talking to four guys.

Why would her dad talk to four guys? And why now?

Talia almost sent for help along her emergency links, but she could just imagine her dad telling her that she was overreacting. They're friends, Talia. Calm down. They're friends, Talia. Calm down.

But she couldn't calm down. And there was something about her dad's expression that disturbed her. She tried to send him a message along her links-You okay?-but the message bounced back to her almost instantly.

It should have gone through.

He didn't even look up at her.

Then some guy grabbed her dad's arm.

Talia swore.

Her dad kept talking to these men and then they started walking with him. One stopped in front of him. Her dad raised his voice a little, but Talia couldn't quite hear what he was saying.

The man still had his hand on her dad's arm.

She didn't need to hear. She wasn't going to let something happen to another parent. Not now. She sent for help along all her emergency links. Police! My father's being kidnapped! Help! Help! Police! My father's being kidnapped! Help! Help! Then she activated her recording chip, lifting her hand so that she could catch the entire thing. Then she activated her recording chip, lifting her hand so that she could catch the entire thing.

The man behind her dad let go of his arm, and her dad started walking with them toward the door. He didn't glance at Talia. Not once.

She cursed again. He was doing this to protect her. Help! We're at the cafeteria in the law library. Please help! Help! We're at the cafeteria in the law library. Please help!

But no one moved. The students didn't seem to notice anything and no one answered on Talia's links. She got out of the booth.

In Valhalla Dome, where she had grown up, there were police on every corner. Sometimes even in official buildings, like this one.

Someone would have answered her by now. Someone might even have made it down here. But Armstrong was a big city, and her dad once laughed when she asked why the police weren't everywhere.

There can't be that many police in a free society, Tal, he'd said. As if Valhalla Dome hadn't been free. As if Armstrong was somehow better.

He'd thought it was. But she didn't. Not now.

She set her help message on automatic and then she got out of the booth. The men were marching her dad toward the door. One man had his hand near her dad, probably using a jammer for his links. Didn't any of the students notice? Weren't their links momentarily checking in and out? The guys surrounding her dad were big, but all she needed to do was distract them. Her dad was tough. If she distracted the guys, her dad could fight back.

And when he did, maybe the students would help, too. This was her only chance. She'd never gotten the opportunity to save her mom. She could save her dad. And she had to do it now.

43.

Romey beat Nyquist to the precinct, which surprised her. Maybe he had stopped off at the Detective Division before coming to the interview area. She had thought he was closer to the City Complex than she was when she contacted him.

The interviews were still continuing at Whitford Security. She reviewed several of them, mostly by asking investigators what-if anything-they had learned that was of interest. Most claimed they hadn't learned anything.

But a few of the investigators had discovered some interesting tidbits. Such as the fact that that bunker beneath Roshdi Whitford's body wasn't for human protection, but protection of a high-end computer system, one that wasn't linked to anything else.

What if, the investigator postulated, someone discovered that the bunker existed, figured out how to break in, and got caught by Whitford? Maybe that was why he died.

It was a good theory, although it was as yet unprovable. The evidence hadn't yet shown whether Whitford was home when the break-in occurred or he had opened the door to someone he knew (who also knew how to turn off the alarm systems) or he had stumbled on some kind of major break-in in progress.

And as yet, Romey couldn't even tell if someone at Whitford Security had been notified that the boss's house was being broken into. Even that information was parceled out.

Still, she felt encouraged by something one of her other investigators had said: You know, when we're done with all this talking, we'll know more about Whitford Security than anyone who works there. You know, when we're done with all this talking, we'll know more about Whitford Security than anyone who works there.

And they would. It was the downside to the parceling out information. If a determined someone put all of that information together, then that someone would know more than anyone who worked for the company-and might be unstoppable.

In fact, as Romey headed to the interview room to see Pelham Monteith, she turned that very idea over in her head. Maybe her team wasn't the first to come up with the idea that one person could know more than all of Whitford Security combined.

All it would take would be some careful conversations-a bit of information here and a bit of information there. In fact, it might be relatively simple.

A conversation could go like this: I heard you're handling the Bowles case. I heard you're handling the Bowles case.

Naw. I'm taking care of XYZ case. I have no idea who is handling other cases.

And so on and so forth.

She let out a small breath. If that someone worked for the company, then the other employees might be willing to divulge information. Just as Medora Lenox had to her friend Gulliver.

Maybe she hadn't been the only one to give him tidbits of information. She certainly wouldn't have known if he spent time with someone else.

He had only spent midnight to six with her.

The interview room where they had stashed Monteith was at the end of a long hallway. The room was one of the larger units, designed for long-term interrogations. It had the most equipment and the most environmental controls.

Romey could play all kinds of games if she wanted to, cutting down the oxygen, amping it up, making the room warmer or colder, depending on what she wanted to do.

But she wasn't going to play any of those games-not yet. Maybe not ever.

She knew that the street cops who had brought Monteith in had placed him here because the case was high profile. High-profile interviews often got stuck here because they could be easily monitored.

Romey peered inside the interview room before she went in. Two extremely junior detectives sat on either side of Monteith.

Monteith himself seemed calmer than she expected. He was also older. He sat between the two detectives, answering each question with a deliberation that was obvious even with the sound off. He was balding. All of his enhancement money seemed to have gone to his muscles, which bulged out of his black suit. Or maybe he had somehow done that on his own.

Romey didn't want to think about it.

And she didn't want to start without Nyquist.

But she would if he didn't get here soon.

She had a feeling that interviewing this man was the key to the entire case.

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