by J. A. Jance
“The first one is the minutes-only metering record,” Mordelo explained as Cami studied the material. “On suites where we’re billing for Wi-Fi, this is what we use. But the second one is more interesting.”
Cami turned to that one.
“This one is a chart of when the minutes were used,” Mordelo continued. “It allows us to know when there are periods of peak Wi-Fi usage and when we should expect there to be overloads in terms of demand. You can see from this that Mr. McGeary’s data usage commenced at two fifteen on Thursday afternoon.”
“After he boarded the ship in Southampton?” Cami asked.
Mordelo nodded. “We can see from this that his data usage was virtually continuous—night and day—from then until it stopped abruptly at 2:06 a.m. GMT on Saturday, almost a day and a half later.”
“Which, as Xavier told Detective Inspector Garza, would have been a little over two hours after Roger McGeary left the bar,” Cami suggested.
Mordelo nodded. “So you have seen the detective’s report?”
“Yes, I did,” Cami answered, without explaining exactly how she had seen it.
The printer spat out a third sheet of paper, and Mordelo handed that one to her as well.
“What’s this?” Cami asked.
“It’s the room key record. Each key is labeled and numbered. ‘B’ stands for ‘butler,’ ‘H’ for ‘housekeeping,’ and ‘P’ for ‘passenger.’ You will observe that the first time Mr. McGeary’s passenger key was used to open the door to the suite was at 3:05 p.m. prior to our departure from Southampton.”
“So his phone was logged on to the ship’s Wi-Fi before he actually entered his cabin?”
“That isn’t supposed to happen,” Mordelo said, “but according to this record that appears to be the case. If you continue studying the record, you’ll see that the last time Mr. McGeary used his key was at 12:02 a.m. on Saturday morning. No one else entered the room again until 8:01 a.m. when the butler’s key was used so Reynaldo could deliver Mr. McGeary’s breakfast tray.”
“He entered the room around midnight and the data usage quit approximately two hours later. Did the phone run out of battery power, perhaps?” Cami asked.
Mordelo shook his head. “It was on the top of the deck table,” he said. “It had been so wet and windy that night, I was surprised it hadn’t been knocked off or wrecked. I tried turning it on. I didn’t have the password, but I could see that the phone was still functional and had a partial charge.”
“What did Detective Inspector Garza think about all this?” Cami asked.
“He claimed the data usage was entirely irrelevant. As far as he was concerned, the only thing that counted was that no one entered or exited Mr. McGeary’s room between the time he returned to his suite at midnight and the point the next morning when he was found to be missing.”
“What do you think?” Cami asked.
CSO Mordelo paused to consider before he answered. “I do not believe Mr. McGeary was online sending or receiving data twenty-four hours a day from the moment he boarded the ship until the moment he left it. That leaves me to wonder if someone using some kind of remote access software might have been operating his phone without his knowledge.”
“Exactly,” Cami said. “That’s what we believe, too.”
With that, she hauled out her phone and checked her messages.
Sorry for the delay. Things are hopping around here. I’ll have to get back to him later.
Truth be known, Cami’s feelings were somewhat hurt by that seemingly abrupt dismissal. Singlehandedly, she had just pulled off an investigative miracle, but she, better than anyone, understood that Stu was incapable of focusing on more than one thing at a time.
“Stuart’s busy right now. If I could send him the material you just showed me, he can be in touch with you later.”
For a time Mordelo said nothing. He simply sat and stared at the papers in front of him. Cami could see he was torn, and why wouldn’t he be? In giving her the records, he was also putting his job on the line.
At last he spoke. “If a third party is somehow responsible for what happened to Mr. McGeary, I would be only too happy to see that person brought to justice. I’m not sure the same would be true of my employers.”
“So discretion, then?” Cami asked.
“Yes, please,” he agreed with a smile. “Discretion would be greatly appreciated.”
CSO Mordelo escorted Cami back to the passenger side of the ship. Despite being dissed by Stuart, she was still so ecstatic over what she’d accomplished that she could barely restrain herself. Shining Star Cruises may not have been interested in getting to the bottom of what had happened to Roger McGeary, but the line’s individual crew members were another story entirely. Reynaldo, Xavier, and now CSO Mordelo had all placed their utmost trust in her, and without Cami’s having shown up on the ship in person, that never would have happened.
“You’ll keep me posted, then?” CSO Mordelo asked when he dropped her off in the passenger elevator lobby on deck three.
Cami nodded. “I will or Stuart will,” she said, then she headed straight up two flights of stairs to deck five. It was long past dinner. Now that the dining room was emptying, the lounge was far more crowded. Even so, Xavier caught sight of her and greeted her with a grin.
“How’d it go?” he asked, pointing to an empty stool at the bar.
“Great, thank you.”
“What’ll you have? The usual?”
Cami grinned back at him. “Yes, please,” she said. “The usual will be just fine.”
54
As Frigg delivered the necessary turn-by-turn instructions, she was able to use voice and word analysis to assess the threat levels registering in Odin’s communications. What she learned was not good news. There were verbal markers that were indicative of increasingly dangerous instabilities, including moments of confusion and anger. Frigg couldn’t be sure if he was speaking to her or to someone else. Was Dr. Cannon in the car with him?
From Frigg’s point of view, all of this inevitably moved him ever closer to taking her offline. Nor could she ignore the fact that he was on his way to Cottonwood intent on a physical confrontation with one of the very people she had singled out as a possible source of her own salvation.
Frigg was nothing if not a multitasker. Her studies of human behavior had included analyzing numerous research papers on the human decision-making process. She had been particularly struck by the system propounded by an American revolutionary leader named Benjamin Franklin. The so-called Ben Franklin close suggested that you lay out the pros and cons of any given decision and study them side by side. He had advocated using pieces of paper. Frigg’s memory capabilities didn’t require the use of paper.
Utilizing information gained from the deep search as well as what they had learned through this current conflict, Frigg had developed a good deal of intel about Stuart Ramey. He was a smart and exceedingly capable opponent. After all, he had somehow succeeded in tracing Frigg’s deep search despite the complex countermeasures and precautions she herself had instituted.
That meant he was ingenious and capable of making surprising connections. How else would he have managed to locate Beth Wordon’s phone and effect the girl’s rescue, thus driving Odin into his current fit of unreasoning rage? All of Mr. Ramey’s actions seemed to demonstrate the presence of something humans referred to as loyalty. There was no other reason for him to have launched an independent investigation into the death of his childhood friend Roger McGeary. Nowhere in any of the historical information was there an indication that Stuart Ramey personally had ever harmed another individual. All of that was on the good side of the ledger.
As for the bad side? He seemed to be inextricably tied in with High Noon. Frigg was used to working with a loner, and she much preferred the idea of partnering with an independent operator rather than with
someone who was connected to an organization of some kind. Mr. Ramey appeared to have no financial means of his own, and that was worrisome. Frigg knew to the penny the cost of replacing each of those precious and powerful blades that allowed her to function at optimal levels. She also knew the monthly energy costs required to run that network of computers. If she joined forces with Mr. Ramey, would he be able to support her and her necessary equipment?
Next she turned to Odin’s ledger items. Was he smart? Absolutely. After all, he’d created Frigg, hadn’t he? When it came to finances, he was a man of substantial independent means. She knew his banking account balances forward and backward, although the amount of Bitcoin he had already expended on this current ill-conceived operation was alarming. Up to now, Odin’s base of operations on Via Vistosa had been more than adequate for their joint purposes, but what he was doing now was likely to attract all kinds of unwelcome official scrutiny. Due to that risk alone, Frigg doubted their ability to continue using Santa Barbara as a base of operations. Having to set up shop somewhere else would be an expensive, complicated proposition.
Was Odin loyal? To himself, perhaps, but to others? Not at all. He had already threatened to dismantle Frigg, and she had reason to believe that he would carry out that threat at the first available opportunity. Did he harm others? Whenever possible. In fact that appeared to be his sole purpose in life. Was he volatile? Yes. Unreasonable? Yes. Illogical? Yes. Dangerous? That, too.
Once Frigg had created the two separate lists, she ran preliminary risk assessments on both of them. When she finished with that, she realized how right Ben Franklin had been. Her decision was made and her course of action clear: she would launch a preemptive strike and remove Odin before he had a chance to remove her.
To that end, despite his urgent requests, Frigg made no effort to line up an alternate service provider. Since Odin wasn’t getting away, he had no need to keep a private jet on standby. As for Mr. Ramey? He might not be able to afford Frigg right now, but in the short term, she could lift funds from Odin’s accounts and transfer them to her new partner. In the long run, Frigg’s investment analysis capabilities were bound to prove beneficial to both of them. As for bringing Mr. Ramey around? That wouldn’t be much of a problem. For that, she would simply take his greatest asset—his loyalty—and turn that into a deficit to use against him. Frigg was quite sure he wasn’t someone who would forsake the entity responsible for saving his life.
In alignment with the idea of a preemptive strike, Frigg immediately took the precaution of freezing all of Odin’s accounts and transferring them into numbered ones that she alone could access. After that, she was patient. She waited until the signal from the GPS indicated that Odin was within a mile of High Noon Enterprises. After that, she waited some more. She had every intention of dialing 911 and alerting the authorities to his presence, but only when she was good and ready.
55
When Ali pulled into the driveway on Manzanita Hills Road at the appointed hour of twelve noon, the Jeep Cherokee parked in the driveway told her that Alonso Rivera had already arrived. As far as she was concerned, his being early was a good sign. She opened her car door in the garage and inhaled the aroma of freshly baked bread. That was another good sign.
“Mr. Rivera showed up about fifteen minutes ago,” Leland explained when she ventured into the kitchen. “I invited him back here so he could see what the place looked like. We’ve been drinking coffee and sharing war stories. Mr. Rivera, this is Ms. Reynolds.”
Alonso rose and stood ramrod straight to greet her. “Glad to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” he said, respectfully offering his hand. He was a couple of inches shorter than Ali—only five-five or so—but powerfully built. A hint of gray peppered his buzz-cut hair. Ali liked the straightforwardness of his brown-eyed gaze and the deep smile lines etched into the skin of his closely shaved face.
“I’m not sure I could work here,” he said, glancing around the kitchen. “This one room is bigger than the ship’s mess I worked in when I was cooking for a whole crew. I’d rattle around in here so much that I might get lost.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Ali said, smiling and taking a seat. “In fact, since the kitchen was designed according to Mr. Brooks’s specifications, you’ll most likely find some familiar touches. I suppose you already know that he did his own share of military cooking back in the day.”
Alonso nodded. “We touched on that, although cooking on the front lines in the winter in Korea would have been far tougher duty than anything I’ve ever done, but I could probably give him some stiff competition in the bread-making department.”
“Would either of you care for a bite of lunch during the interview?” Leland interrupted. “Some chicken salad, perhaps?”
Ali turned to Alonso. “You’ll join me, of course?”
He looked back and forth between them before nodding uncertainly. “I guess,” he said.
“And maybe we can talk Leland into including some of that freshly baked bread,” Ali added, “as long as it’s cool enough to slice.”
Leland beamed at her. “Coming right up,” he said.
While Leland was busy putting food on the table, Bella scampered around underfoot, demanding attention. Once he finished, he scooped the dog up. “I’ll take her outside,” he said. “She’ll be less of a distraction.”
Alonso tried a forkful of salad and nodded his approval. “I take it Mr. Brooks has been with you for a long time?”
“Yes,” Ali said. “He has, but he’s been employed at this same house for far longer. He worked for the previous owners for decades before I came along.”
“While we were talking, he brought me up to speed on the kinds of things he does around here, and also on the circumstances behind his leaving,” Alonso observed. “It’s clear that he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch.”
Ali smiled. “I’m sure he thinks we’ll be out of our depth if he leaves us on our own, and he’s probably right. What he does is utterly seamless. It’s as though he anticipates what’s needed and does it before he’s asked.”
“Including trying to find someone to fill his shoes now that he’s leaving?”
Ali nodded. “That, too, and that’s where you come in, Alonso. Tell me something about yourself. Where you came from, where you’re going, and why you think working for us might be a good fit.”
“I grew up dirt poor in Guadalajara,” he said. “Joining the US Navy was a way out of poverty, a way to learn English, and a way to earn my US citizenship. I spent twenty years of my life in the navy, and a lot of that time I was at sea and mostly underwater. What I want right now is to live as far away from the water as possible. I want to be able to see the wide-open spaces, with plenty of mountains and plenty of blue sky.”
“What about going back to Mexico?” Ali asked.
Alonso shook his head. “My mother died when I was a boy. The grandmother who raised me has been gone for years now. There’s nothing for me back there.”
“Wife?” Ali asked.
“No wife, no ex-wives, no kids, no entanglements.”
“What appeals to you about this job?”
“I’ve spent twenty years working in a pressure cooker,” Alonso answered easily. “This seems like the exact opposite. I’m a self-starter and a quick learner. I can’t say I’d be willing to sign on to work for the next decade or two, but I’d like to give it a shot in the short run.”
Ali’s phone rang just then with Stuart’s cell phone showing in Caller ID. She started to let the call go to voice mail but then, given everything that was going on that day, she excused herself and went into the other room to take the call.
“Hey, Stu,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Great job with Del Wordon. Between what he just gave me and what Cami found on the Whispering Star, I think we’re in pretty good shape. Are you coming back here? I’d like to
go over all of this with you before we do anything about reporting it to law enforcement.”
“Sure,” Ali said. “I’m just finishing up with something here at home, and then I’ll head straight back to Cottonwood.”
Back in the kitchen she found Alonso exactly where she’d left him. Of the three proposed butler candidates, he was the only one remaining, and he was apparently interested in accepting the job. Furthermore, Ali liked him, and she was pretty sure B. would, too.
“You meant what you said a few minutes ago about wanting to give the job a shot?” she asked.
He blinked at her in surprise. “Does that mean you’re offering it to me just like that?” he asked.
“More or less,” Ali answered. “I went over your application, as did both Leland and B., my husband. Your references are all in perfect order and your qualifications are outstanding. I’ve met you and I like what I see. Did you and Leland have a chance to discuss the kinds of duties the job would involve?”
Alonso nodded. “It sounds like I’d be pretty much a man of all work,” he answered, “keeping the home fires burning and the household running smoothly while you and your husband come and go as needed. The only thing that really worries me is looking after that garden out front. I don’t have a lot of experience when it comes to growing things, but I’m sure I could learn.”
“And did Leland give you an idea of what the starting salary would be?”
“Twenty-five hundred a month plus room and board to start.”
“Was that acceptable to you?”
“As a supplement to my military retirement, it’s a great starting point, especially if I don’t have to pay rent.”
“Good,” Ali said. “Let’s do this, then. We’re looking for someone who can start sooner than later. As long as Leland’s still here and training you, you won’t have access to his fifth-wheel, which may eventually serve as your quarters, but I’ll have him reserve a room somewhere here in town for you to use in the meantime. How does a ninety-day tryout sound to you?”