“So just what are we doing here?” asked Zachetti. “I mean, what is she doing here?”
“I don’t know, exactly,” I admitted. “My guess is she’s going to try to sabotage the whole place somehow.”
“And that’s bad…why?”
“I don’t want her getting caught…or worse.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he mumbled, getting out of the SUV. He walked toward the front gate, but I was slower as the pain in my stab wound flared up. I had downed a handful of ibuprofen Zachetti had given me, but they couldn’t even begin to take the edge off. Zachetti stopped and shook his head when I caught up to his side.
“What?” I asked. He pointed to my ridiculous shirt.
“That’s not gonna do,” he said. He took off his sports jacket and gave it to me. I was practically swimming in it. I felt like a little kid playing dress-up in his dad’s closet.
“Is this really any better?” I asked. “I feel like a hobo.”
He ignored my concerns.
“Sunglasses in the top pocket. Put those on, too.”
I obliged, but Zachetti’s head was the width of two of mine, so it only added to the childish effect. He looked me up and down, and shrugged.
“Best we can fucking do, I guess,” he said.
I felt ridiculous.
I limped after him as he approached the guard shack. The elderly security guard came out to greet us.
“Can I help you guys?” he asked. I kept looking away from him, pretending to be studying the architecture of the building beyond the wall. Zachetti flashed his badge.
“Detectives Zachetti and Fucktard, Providence Police,” he declared.
“Okay…wait, who?”
He spoke slower, enunciating each word sarcastically.
“I said, Detectives. Zachetti. And. Furtardo. Providence. Police.”
What an asshole.
Zachetti’s favorite movie was The French Connection, and he had taken away from it the benefits of throwing people off their game right from the start.
“Oh. Er, right,” said the guard. “What can I do for you, detectives?”
“We’re investigating a report of a break-in.”
“What? No, not here. I didn’t report any…wait, detectives? Why wouldn’t they send a patrolman?”
I had been wondering the same thing. But Zachetti just shook his head angrily.
“It didn’t just happen! We’re following up on the break-in from the other day.”
Nice save.
“There was no break-in the other day, as far as I know…”
My gift of the Ol’ Devine Charm was equally matched in Jake with his Ol’ Zachetti Intimidation. He turned it on full blast right at the poor old guard, who never even stood a chance.
“Look, pal, we don’t have all day here. It’s no wonder you’ve had so many problems the past month.”
“Problems? I’m not sure I know—”
“Is there a supervisor or someone I can speak to? I’m not wasting any more time with you. We’re the ones you called to help. We’re not coming all the way back out here again. So either we go in and do what we need to do, or your boss can go fuck himself. And you can tell him I said so.”
The guard, despite his suspicions, was finally successfully worn down.
“Yeah, of course,” he said, opening the gate. “I’ll just call Tony and let him know you’re here.”
“Don’t bother,” said Zachetti, pushing past the guard. He was looking down at his cell phone as he spoke. “This is him, calling me now.”
He held the phone up to his ear, pretending to answer it.
“Yessir, Mr. Tony. We’re on our way in now. Sorry for the delay, had some trouble at the gate.” He glared at the guard, who smiled apologetically.
“No no,” said Zachetti, “All straightened out now.” The guard exhaled a sigh. “See you soon.”
We crossed the narrow courtyard and jogged up the stone stoop leading into the building.
“And that,” said Zachetti, closing the doors behind us, “is how you do it.”
“Detective Fucktard?” I asked.
“And that you are,” he smirked. “I could’ve had fun with that guy. You’re lucky I didn’t go all Popeye Doyle on him.”
We found ourselves in the main lobby of the complex. The inside of the mill had been completely gutted and rebuilt; the futuristic, tech-filled insides in stark contrast with the classical revival exterior.
The lobby vaulted upwards the entire height of the building, with the afternoon light cascading in through the old floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything looked to still be in the process of being set up. Plastic canvases covered what little furniture was there, and capped wires peeked out from behind the exposed studs on one wall. There was a reception desk, a waiting area, and a big metal and glass staircase leading to the upper floors. Various hallways darted off in every direction.
Lucky for us, it was the weekend, and the place seemed to be deserted.
“So what I don’t get,” said Zachetti, gazing up at the vast atrium, “is why come here? Nothing’s even in operation yet. It’s not like they’ve stolen anybody’s data yet.”
“But at least taking away their capability to do so could be a huge setback for them,” I replied. “Maybe big enough to scare them off. Plus, it would attract a lot of unwanted attention on the company, and its powerful list of investors. Besides, it’s the best option Chelsea has…in her mind, anyway.”
I took off Zachetti’s sunglasses and looked at all of the hallways and the huge staircase in front of us.
“Where do we start?” I asked aloud, more to myself than to Zachetti.
“Beats the fuck out of me,” he said. “We don’t know if she’s even here.”
“She is. I can feel it. And if she’s not, she will be.”
“Sound logic you’ve got there.”
“There,” I said, pointing to the nearest hallway. “Good a place as any.”
We walked down the corridor and passed door after door of glass-walled offices and meeting spaces. Some of them were empty, some of them were starting to look nearly functional. Some had desks with giant inflatable balls for chairs, and some desks were chest high with no chairs at all. One office had a desk, complete with a computer, stationed over a treadmill.
The corridor ended in large room that was on its way into becoming a break room of sorts. There was a foosball table, a pinball machine, and a counter set up in the corner with a sign that said “Juice Bar” hanging overhead. We stopped and Zachetti nudged me, nodding his chin toward a figure sitting at a table.
It was a woman, her back to us, typing feverishly away on a laptop. Even without seeing her face, I immediately recognized her blonde hair, with the dark roots just starting to show up. I limped over to her as fast as I could.
“Chelsea!” I called. She ignored me.
“Harry, hold up,” said Zachetti. I ignored him.
I finally reached her and threw my hand down on her shoulder. I wanted to yell at her. I wanted to kiss her. I was angry and relieved all at the same time. She screamed and whirled around, ripping her earbuds out of her ears.
It wasn’t Chelsea.
It was a young girl who, from the front, looked nothing like her. For one, Chelsea wasn’t Asian, last I noticed. She wriggled out of my grasp and stood up, backing away from me, knocking over her chair in the process. I began to stammer.
“I…excuse me…I’m so sorry…”
Zachetti approached and offered a wide smile.
“Our mistake, miss, so sorry to disturb you. We thought you were someone else.”
“I’m sorry!” she said hurriedly. “I know I’m not supposed to be here yet. But the Wi-Fi at home just sucks so much compared to this new system. And I figured no one was using the space
anyway, so…”
“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “We won’t tell anyone.”
She sighed in relief. Zachetti flashed his badge.
“We’re on police business,” he said. “But you’re not in any trouble. Have you seen anyone else here today?”
She shook her head.
“Just the old security guard out front. I’ve been bribing him with doughnuts to let me in. He likes the chocolate ones with the candy sprinkles—”
“No one else?” I interrupted.
She thought for a moment, before finally saying, “No. Not today. Just Eric in the server room. And the reporter lady.”
“Reporter lady?” asked Zachetti.
“Yeah, Eric said she must be from Wired magazine or something. She was dressed way too trendy to be from a local station. But yeah, she was asking him all kinds of questions about the system. Eric didn’t have a lot of answers for her, he’s only an intern like me. He told her to come back during the week to talk to someone who would know better.”
“What did she look like?” I asked.
“She was old, almost like you…” she said.
Snot-nosed little brat.
“…but cute. Blonde hair. Cats-eye glasses. Leather jacket. Oh! And she had these adorable leopard print heels…”
“Where’s this Eric now?” Zachetti cut her off.
“In the server room.”
“Where’s that?”
“Upstairs.”
Zachetti sighed irritably.
“Upstairs where? Which direction? Which floor?”
She shrugged and pointed up.
“Just…upstairs. It’s the entire rest of the building. You can’t miss it.”
“Oh.”
“Thanks,” I said tersely. Zachetti and I quickly left to head back down the hallway to the main atrium.
The elevators were not operational yet. The climb up the stairs, even just one flight, was brutal. Every step felt like my side was going to split open, sending my insides spilling out down the modernist staircase. On top of that, I was starting to feel warm and feverish, my head throbbing more intensely with each passing minute. I was sure there were some kind of necessary antibiotics I was missing out on by not being in the hospital, but I pushed through.
Each of the floors (of which there were five? Three hundred? I couldn’t tell from here) had its own balcony that ran the width of the building, looking down over the atrium. When we reached the second floor landing, we were greeted with an overwhelming sight. The rest of the building was indeed a huge server farm. Glass walls separated the balconies from the darkened, gargantuan room inside, where hundreds of rows of racks held thousands of blinking, wired pieces of equipment.
“Whoa,” said Zachetti.
“Uh, yeah,” I agreed, “whoa.”
I pointed to the row straight ahead of us, where a young, important looking man was checking on the servers and comparing them to data on a tablet he was holding.
Ah. Even my beloved clipboard has been replaced already.
I questioned his choice of clothing. A fleece vest in the middle of a summer heat wave seemed a bit odd.
“Must be Eric,” I said.
We opened the nearest glass door and stepped inside. Eric’s vest suddenly made much more sense. It was cool in the room. Downright brisk compared to the humidity outside. A draft breezed up from—below?
I looked down to see the metal floor was perforated with small round holes, below which must have been the air conditioning ducts.
Fascinating.
Eric saw us coming and looked up from his iPad.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Hiya, son,” said Zachetti. “We’re with the police. We understand there was a lady reporter talking to you earlier?”
I wondered if “Lady Reporter” was something female journalists had to put on their resume, or if they were allowed to simply shorten it to “Reporter” without being too deceiving. But I was more interested in finding Chelsea than calling Zachetti out on this, which would have been a losing battle anyway.
“Uh yeah,” said Eric nervously. “Am I in any trouble?”
“No one’s in any trouble, son,” said Zachetti, reciting one of the most common lies police tell. “We just need to talk to her. We know she was here. Any idea where she’s at now?”
He shook his head. “She left a little while ago. I couldn’t really help her out, I told her to try back tomorrow.”
I scanned up and down the row of servers.
It’s like we’re onboard an alien spacecraft.
The dim blue lighting added to the futuristic effect.
“This is a lot of computer stuff,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Eric. “There’s gonna be a lot of data stored here.”
“Must be a lot of work to get set up.”
“It’s been a challenge. SmartPark is really strict with their deadlines. But we’re almost ready.”
“Security doesn’t seem that tight around here. Just grandpa outside?”
“Well, there’s nothing really here to secure, yet. Once we’re up and running, there’ll be a much tighter system, I’m sure.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I kept my tone as aloof as possible. “I’d imagine protecting all this data is going to be quite the undertaking.”
“Sure,” he said. “Um, is there anything else? I really have to be getting back to it.”
“Hypothetically,” I said, “if someone wanted to just…break in here and mess everything up, how do you suppose they would do that?”
Eric’s eyes narrowed and he looked me up and down, just now noticing my absurdly oversized jacked and no doubt haggard complexion.
“Are you sure you’re police?”
Zachetti flashed his badge.
“Detectives,” he said, smiling. “Now ignore my partner’s eccentricities and answer the fucking question.”
“Well, uh…” he thought for a minute, deciding if he should be talking to us or not. Finally, he spoke up.
“It’ll be tricky once everything’s launched. There’ll be redundancies, backups, sensors, alarms, a full security detail…”
“What about before the launch?” I asked. “Like about…right now?”
“Well that’s different. There’s lots of things. But I don’t see why anyone would care to take down a bunch of empty servers. It’d make more sense to wait until they’re loaded if you want to steal…”
“If someone’s not waiting,” I said. “How about you? What would you do, Eric?”
“I don’t feel comfortable with…hey, how did you know my name?”
Zachetti placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Oh, we know all about you, Eric,” he bluffed. “So talk.”
“Well,” Eric stammered. “I, uh…I guess the air conditioning.”
“The…air conditioning?”
That wasn’t the answer I was expecting.
“Yeah. Everything in here needs to be kept cool…these machines generate a ton of heat, and will just melt down if it gets too hot. We keep it at 67 Fahrenheit, coming up through the floor. But if the AC was to just…turn off…things would get pretty warm in here in a hurry. Especially in this heat. We can cycle in the outside air in the winter, but that would be futile on days like today.”
“That’s something I wouldn’t have even thought of,” I muttered.
But I’d bet Chelsea would.
“And what’s to stop someone from turning off the cool air?” asked Zachetti.
“Well it’s not like just flipping a switch. It’s locked on that temperature. They’d have to mess with the HVAC system itself, or the compressors on the roof.”
Zachetti and I shared a look.
“Eventually,” Eric continued, “It’s all going to be h
ooked up to monitors and sensors and alarms. They’re installing a generator with a backup system next week, I think. But they were so anxious to get the skeleton of the place up and running, they haven’t gotten around to it yet. This is weird…”
“What’s so weird about it?” snapped Zachetti. “We’re just having a conversation, son.”
“No,” said Eric. “I told all this to that reporter. She said her story was on cyber security. But she acted like I wasn’t any help at all.”
“I see,” I said. “Well, you’ve been a big help to us, Eric. Thank you for your time.”
We quickly made our way out of the room, leaving a confused Eric alone with his work.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Zachetti, once we were out back on the landing.
“Probably,” I said. “One, it’s still cold in there. So if Chelsea’s planning on going the overheating route, she hasn’t succeeded with it yet. Two, we have to get to the roof.”
“Exactly,” said Zachetti.
“Stop, police!” shouted a voice from behind us. We raised our hands and slowly turned around, giving each other an “oh, boy, here we go” look in the process. A police officer had his gun drawn on us, the old security guard standing beside him with a smug look on his face.
“Hold it right there…Jake? What the hell are you doing…holy shit, Harry Devine?”
“Any ideas?” I muttered to Zachetti.
“Sure,” he replied out of the corner of his mouth. “Go back in time and become a priest like my mother wanted.”
Zachetti’s jacket opened up as my arms stretched over my head, revealing the hideous shirt underneath.
The cop gave me a confused look, his gun still focused on me.
“Is that…is that a kitten…shooting lasers?”
“Shut up,” I said.
Chapter 26
THE BIG HEAT
“Hey, Ernie,” Zachetti said to the cop who had us at gunpoint. “I got Harry! I tracked him down! I was just bringing him in.”
“Nice try,” said the old security guard next to Ernie. “They came in together, officer.”
“Yeah,” said Ernie. “I’m…I’m sorry guys. I’m gonna have to call this one in. Every man, woman, and canine are out looking for you, Harry.”
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