Chapter 9

 

Carver Labs had way too many police outside for Jimmy’s liking. If their presence hadn’t been unavoidable, someone would be in trouble. He parked just up from their perimeter and called the head of the labs’ security to have the police let him through as a security consultant - which he was, to a number of the organisation’s semi-legal operations. He’d only visited the labs a few times, and this would be his first time as a consultant. The cover was designed for contingencies such as these.

A uniformed cop escorted him through the cordon to the front of the building. All they kept out were the pair of desperate-looking cameramen.

There was a smear of blood on the sidewalk, surrounded by some techs doing their stuff. That might explain why the police couldn’t be kept out. No body, and not enough blood to be sure it would’ve been fatal.

He was greeted at the door by Sinclair, head of security for the lab. Even at this hour, she was perfectly composed, her blonde hair pulled tightly back in a bun.

‘Mister Bancroft,’ she said. ‘Thank you for coming promptly.’

He nodded. There were police milling about inside. There’d be no way to avoid that, so the conversation would need to be circumspect. ‘What happened?’

‘Armed intruders broke in. They subdued the guard on the desk, made their way through to the secure vaults, and tried to gain access. They were disturbed by a guard on patrol and forced to flee when he triggered an alarm.’ Not the whole story, judging by her eyes.

‘Did they take anything?’ he asked.

‘We don’t believe so,’ said Sinclair, but gave a slight nod. ‘If you could give me a moment to finish conferring with the police, I’ll escort you to our security suite.’

He glanced at the police techs at work outside and in the lobby in passing. Sinclair’s lies might placate the authorities. She could be convincing, to someone of a less suspicious nature.

With the police placated, or at least done with their preliminary questions, Sinclair escorted him in silence up to the security suite.

The décor of the facility was blandly corporate, to avoid drawing attention. All glass-fronted, to give the impression of transparency. From the blueprints he’d skimmed when assigned the position, he was sure there were workshops somewhere. But from the foyer and stairwell and corridors he was escorted through, you wouldn’t have a clue what the company did.

A bank of screens at the front of the security suite covered most of the activity outside and within the building.

‘Give us the room,’ said Sinclair, and they were alone in seconds.

The suite was a small room, with an array of half a dozen terminals on desks, and a few extra chairs for observers. It was all shiny and professional-looking.

‘What did they get?’ asked Jimmy.

‘The objects you brought in yesterday.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘They had something that interfered with the cameras.’

She called up a video feed of the entrance, before it became crowded. As someone walked into view, the image blurred around him.

‘How did they do that?’ asked Jimmy. Cutting the feed, or replacing it with looped footage, he understood. He’d done so plenty of times. He’d heard of tech that could blur the face, but not a full body blurring. Presumably it could be achieved with the same principles, though he’d need someone more knowledgeable to confirm that.

‘No idea. Never seen anything like it. It doesn’t interfere with the recording other than to obscure individuals.’

The figure lingered at the glass front door, possibly knocking. A guard came up to the other side and spoke. The figure held something up to the glass.

‘The guard’s still groggy,’ said Sinclair. ‘All we got from him before the police insisted on getting him to hospital was that the guy had Federal ID - presumably fake. Claimed there’d been a bomb threat.’

The threat of a bomb would be useful to distract from the details of the ID, and could make someone react rashly.

On the feed, the guard opened the door and was tasered as soon as the intruder stepped inside. He was lowered to the ground, and more blurs rushed into view. The guard was absorbed by the crowd and moved out of sight.

Sinclair shifted the view to another camera, following the figures through the building. One remained in the lobby, as the others advanced confidently. Professional. Possible military or law-enforcement training. And they knew where they were going. Inside help? Unlikely. Most would know what their employers would do to them if they were discovered. Then again, you didn’t work for criminals unless you were inclined to be greedy.

‘We claimed the camera outside the vault was out of operation,’ said Sinclair. ‘I had the room sanitised to make it look like it hadn’t been breached.’

Jimmy nodded. They did get into the vault, though, and headed directly for the stuff he’d brought in. The objects were carefully placed in a bag. They might be using something to separate the items as they put them inside. Despite the efficient haste of the rest of the operation, on this they took their time. Why such care?

He didn’t see the gun. The timing would have been tight for them to get it to his apartment. That meant someone else must have done it. Had this second party known the robbery would take place?

He needed to check the earlier footage, but perhaps he shouldn’t draw attention to the disappearance of the gun until he’d had time to think. Sinclair hadn’t commented on it, so might not have noticed.

Something else niggled at him, and it took a few moments for it to fully register.

‘Stop,’ he said. ‘Go back to when they entered the room. Freeze.’

Sinclair did so. The image showed the blurs at the entrance, and the items arrayed together on the bench. The picture was hazy on the detail of the items.

‘Focus on the items,’ he said. She did so. They could just about make out the shapes. ‘Two of the items are missing,’ he said. ‘The torch and the gun.’

Sinclair leaned in closer, and from the slight widening of her eyes she seemed genuinely surprised.

Since it wasn’t just the gun, he felt safer drawing attention to their absence. It wasn’t as though he had clearance to enter the vault himself, so shouldn’t be a suspect. Though logic would offer no protection if someone was determined to make him a scapegoat. The best response was be to do his job and keep his eyes open.

Could the second party, or first thieves - if he didn’t count himself for stealing the stuff in the first place - also have hidden the torch in his place? He hadn’t seen it in the brief search. He’d need to have a more thorough look.

‘Were these items elsewhere being examined?’ asked Jimmy.

‘They shouldn’t have been.’ Sinclair fiddled with her tablet. ‘Protocol for such items is that they’re locked away securely when not in use. Yes, the gun was the only thing taken out for testing, but it was logged back in at the end of the day.’

That suggested two robberies.

‘I want copies of all camera feeds for the past twenty-four hours,’ he said. ‘All of your cameras.’

‘Of course,’ said Sinclair. Her tone was less confident than a couple of minutes ago.

‘What happened next?’

‘The other patrolling guard stumbled across them. We were able to fit the story around that.’

She shifted the view to the outer corridor, showing a guard coming under fire from the intruders. There was little he could realistically have done against them, but they retreated, anyway. They had what they were after. The guard followed them out, keeping his distance.

The view shifted to a wide-angle trained on the front door as they emerged. There was a van at the edge of the screen, presumably stolen.

Their progress was halted as one of them fell. He’d been shot, from the look of it.

‘The guard had them in view at that point,’ said Sinclair. ‘He said they got defensive, looking about for a shooter. They were looking up, so probably a sniper. The guard didn’t hear the shot, but given the circumstances it could’ve been missed. There was no second shot, so they grabbed their guy, who wasn’t moving, chucked him in the back of the van, and got out of there.’

‘Replay it,’ said Jimmy. ‘Slower and closer.’

Sinclair paused the playback, took it back to just before the shot. She closed in on the blurred figures and let it play at a slower rate.

The judder and fall of the injured intruder seemed glacial, but a faint movement was less blurry near him. The blurriness of the figures was like looking at them through a viscous liquid. Something fell from the target, its blurriness becoming more pixelated due to size and picture quality.

‘He dropped something,’ said Jimmy. Something too small to clearly make out at this resolution.

As the images continued to move, another intruder grabbed whatever had been dropped.

‘Someone expected them,’ said Jimmy, mainly to himself.

‘What do they gain by shooting just one intruder? Panic?’

Jimmy shrugged. ‘Unless that one intruder was a specific target.’ Because of whatever they’d been carrying? ‘What about the van?’

‘Police got the plate from a nearby traffic camera. They’re tracking it, but I assume it was stolen.’

Jimmy nodded. If it wasn’t stolen, he wouldn’t expect it to lead anywhere.

The police were better equipped to follow that lead, and would get there before him. He had other things to focus on - such as who took the gun from the vault between the time it was locked in and it appearing in his apartment. And what’d they done with the torch.

There seemed to be two groups of thieves. Both of whom apparently knew the stuff was here, and presumably knew more about their value than he did. How had they known it was here?

Whoever owned Mayweather had to be a suspect. He knew entirely too little about what was going on here for his own good. That needed to change.