I stepped into the dimly-lit basement. The yellow hue cast from the overhead fluorescents made the walls look as though they were stained with urine. If the hotel wasn’t so nice, I’d have been sure of it. My eyes adjusted with every step forward. The marks on the wall were old glue from where wallpaper had once been hung. I wondered if they housed people down here at one point in time.
Unevenly-spaced doors lined the narrow corridor. They were marked sequentially, odds on the right, evens on the left. I kept going until I reached number 12. I slid the key into the lock and turned. The bolt slid with a slight click. I pushed the door open and stepped through. The room hummed with electricity. It was ten degrees hotter, and a hundred times brighter. There were twenty-four monitors on the wall. Two for each floor, and four connected to the cameras located at each corner of the lobby. Each screen displayed a continuous feed. The only thing missing were the elevator cameras, but I figured there had to be a way to manipulate the system so they would display.
My guess that the system was hard drive-based was correct. There wasn’t any film to worry about. Our chances of seeing Ahlberg leave the hotel increased.
I pulled the plastic container from my pocket and grabbed the other two memory cards. There were multiple computer systems on and underneath a large desk. A yellow-and-black-handled screwdriver was the only other thing on the surface. I had to find which had the footage for the eighth floor and one of the lobby cameras, preferably the one aimed at the elevator.
I started with the monitors and traced their cables back to individual computers. While doing that, I watched the check-in counter. The two police officers remained in the same spot. Bear stood a few feet away from them. He had the attention of one of the employees, but I knew he was listening in on the cops’ conversation as best he could. Problem was, unless he’d taken some courses I didn’t know about, Bear did not speak Dutch.
I slipped the memory card into the PC tower connected to the eighth monitor. It took a couple minutes to navigate the file system, which was labeled in English. I copied the contents to the memory card.
Before I could retrieve it, the door opened.
The tall, narrow man said something in Dutch. I couldn’t make it out. Had a good idea what he’d asked though.
“I’m a technician,” I said. “The security company sent me out. Said you might have a faulty hard drive.”
He switched to English. “No one told me about this.”
“And you are?” I rose and took two steps toward him. We were about the same height, but I was twice as wide.
He stepped back to the safety of the doorway. “One of the managers here.”
“Well, I’m surprised they didn’t let you know. They booked me over a week ago. I just flew in from Florida. Came straight here.”
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
The door fell shut. I heard the lock click into place. I pulled the card from the reader and turned back to the monitors. The manager exited the elevator and crossed the lobby. He walked past Bear and stopped next to the cops.
Bear turned toward the elevators, looked up at the camera and made a quick gesture with his head that said “get out.”
The footage I’d retrieved from the eighth floor camera would have to suffice. Hopefully the drive was large enough to have all of yesterday’s events. We might get lucky and wind up with multiple shots of Ahlberg and the other woman.
I secured the memory card and went to the door. It didn’t budge. Worse, the only way to unlock it from the inside was a magnetic card reader mounted to the wall.
I turned toward the monitors. The manager crossed the lobby with the police officers in tow. Bear walked to the middle of the lobby and stopped there. What was he doing? He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone. A second later, mine rang.
“I see them,” I said.
“They’re heading down,” he said. “They’re waiting at the elevator now. Want me to do something?”
“I don’t want you getting into trouble over this,” I said.
“I’ll fake a heart attack,” he said.
“You’re armed. It won’t work.”
“Bull.” He smiled at me through the camera. “Watch this.”
The line went dead. Bear shoved the phone in his front pocket. He balled up his jacket and tossed it behind a potted plant. Then he took a few steps toward the elevator, stopped, grabbed his chest, and appeared to call out. The manager tossed a quick glance back and stepped into the open elevator. The cops, however, turned toward the large man writhing on the floor in agony. The manager stuck one foot out, waved for the officers to join him. They ignored the thin man. Annoyed, the manager exited the elevator and crossed the room to see what the fuss was about. He stood over Bear, wrapped his bony fingers around the back of his head. I couldn’t tell what he was saying, but figured it had something to do with me.
“Can’t believe you pulled that off,” I said to Bear through the monitor.
He’d bought me time. Now I had to find a way out. There was no way the room was closed off completely. I rapped my knuckles against the walls. The thick thud in return told me that the walls were solid. I didn’t see a closet. There was no window.
I grabbed the door knob and yanked. It barely budged. I reached for the back of my head and yanked on a fistful of hair. I stared straight up.
“There we have it.”
Drop tile ceilings.
I climbed up on the desk near the edge and pushed one of the tiles up and tossed it over. I reached through and found that the wall did not continue past the ceiling. I gripped it and pulled myself up so that I balanced on my waist. The ceiling on the opposite side felt the same. I lifted another panel. The next room over was dark. I used the light on my phone to get a better look at the space. There was an old desk. Nothing else. I aimed the light at the door. There was no card reader mounted to the wall.
I lowered myself into the security room. On the monitor Bear was standing in the middle of the lobby. A crowd gathered around him. The manager and cops were nowhere in sight. Bear grimaced as he watched the elevator doors close. They would be at the door in thirty seconds, tops.
In an ideal scenario, I’d crash their system, erasing the hard drives. I didn’t have the time or the know-how to do that. So I unplugged every tower and jammed the screwdriver into the back of each one. I had no idea if that would make a difference.
The room turned a deep blue as feeds cut off and the monitors went to their factory display.
I climbed on top of the desk again and pulled myself up and balanced on the center wall. The space wasn’t that high. I replaced the ceiling tile before dropping down into the other room. A few seconds later I heard the manager’s voice. The security room door crashed opened. The manager sounded confused. The cops sounded pissed. Why were the screens blank? Where had I gone?
At least I assumed that’s what they said.
They spent a couple minutes in the opposite room. I figured the manager was trying to reconnect the systems. He sounded frustrated. Perhaps the screwdriver trick had worked. I felt the tip of the tool dig into my leg, so I reversed it in my pocket. The cops said little. They probably wondered what the hell they were doing down there. I sat with my ear against the wall until the voices silenced and the door opened and clicked shut. I moved to a spot next to the door. If it opened, it would open against me, shielding me from view.
They stood in the hallway, talking. I wished I could understand them. Someone grabbed the knob to my room. Twisted the handle. It clicked repeatedly. The door was locked. One of them pushed against the door. It didn’t give.
The manager said something. One of the cops responded. Keys, maybe?
I waited as the voices trailed off. A minute of silence passed. The phone buzzed in my pocket. I answered without saying a word. The sweat beaded on my forehead and matted in my eyebrows slid down the side of my face.
“They’re all up here,” Bear said. “Where are you?”
“What are they doing?”
“The manager went behind the counter. He’s got a cabinet open.”
“He’s looking for a key.” I dragged the pad of my thumb across my forehead, flung the condensation away from me. “The cops are still there?”
“Yeah, both of them. They’re waiting by the counter. Man, they look freaking annoyed.”
“Do whatever you can to stop them if they head for the elevator. I’m gonna get to the stairwell. Call me when they’re coming down.”
I already had the door open and was making my way down the hall to the far end. I assumed that the stairs went down this far. I checked each door I passed. All but the last one was locked.
The stairwell was dark, hot and musty. I thought I felt someone’s breath on my neck. I didn’t care. I called Bear and updated him on my position. He told me the manager was still in the lobby. The cops, too. I climbed the stairs two at a time, skipped the first floor, and exited at the second.
There was a window at the end of the hallway. I slid the lock over and grabbed the lip at the bottom. It felt like the thing hadn’t been opened in years. I glanced down at the sill. Two or three layers of paint sealed the window to the frame. I took out the screwdriver I’d found in the security room and used it to cut through fifty years of paint. I tried to lift again. The window grated against its track. And it went up.
I pulled out my phone and called Bear.
“Go to the east end of the hallway. I saw an exit there. I’m getting ready to drop down from the second floor window. Be there.”
“You getting old or something, man?” he said.
“What?” I stopped, right leg hanging out, window pressing down against my left shoulder.
“All of a sudden you need a spotter for a one floor drop?”
“Go to hell.” I ended the call and stuffed the phone in my pocket. I tossed my jacket out the window then made sure the pistol was secure in my waistband.
The chime above the elevator dinged. The sound echoed down the hall. I looked back. The doors slid open. I eased my torso outside. Pulled my other leg through. A cop stepped out of the elevator. They looked down the hallway, opposite my position. I let my body drop, twisting my wrists to catch the outer sill. I pressed the soles of my shoes against the brick wall. They grated as mortar cracked and rained down on the asphalt below. The door below me opened and Bear stepped out and moved to the side. I let go, bracing for the impact to the ankle I’d injured in Texas. When I hit the ground, I allowed myself to roll back. Bear got a kick out of seeing me take the fall. I didn’t care.
“We better get to the car before they come out here,” he said, pulling me up by the arm.