“I do,” he admitted with a grim set to his lips.
“Is he a criminal? Is he ... dangerous?”
“That’s not something you need to be concerned about, Miss Macmillan. He’s not interested in you and he won’t bother you.”
“Trisha.”
Lionel blinked at her. “Excuse me?”
“Call me Trisha. You did buy me lunch, after all.”
“So I did.” The smile he gave her this time was genuine. “Perhaps next time we’ll be able to savor our meal a bit longer.”
“No guarantees.” Trisha’s return smile was a bit uneasy. Did we just agree to go out again? she wondered. I just met him this morning!
Lionel didn’t seem to notice her trepidation as he turned the corner and pulled up to the curb behind one of the idling ambulances near the emergency room entrance. “Here you are.”
“Thanks for the lift.” Trisha unbuckled but made no move to leave. Lionel lifted an eyebrow to her and she blurted, “Is Mr. Butler in danger? Should I tell hospital security about Hawk?”
Lionel shook his head. “I’ll take care of it, there’s no need for you to ... well, you know.”
“Worry?” she asked tartly. He looked embarrassed as he cleared his throat.
“Worry about your patients, Trisha, I’ll worry about Butler. Although ...”
“Yes?”
Lionel chewed his lower lip as he wrestled with some inner thought. “Do you think you could do one thing for me?”
“What is it?”
“If you should see Hawk again, call me as soon as you can and let me know.”
He reached into an inner pocket and extracted a gold business card holder engraved with the same shield design as his notebook. He took out one card and then patted himself for a pen, finally locating one in his overcoat. It looked suspiciously like the one he borrowed from her that morning. He wrote something on the face of the card and held it out to her and she took it curiously.
To her surprise, the only things printed on the card were the same shield design she noticed before, this time with red and white diagonal stripes across it, and a phone number. He’d written Lionel across the top in precise letters, almost like calligraphy. “This is your personal card?” she asked dubiously.
“I ran out of my official ones,” he explained. “That is my number, though.” He patted his chest pocket and then frowned at the pen in his hand. He turned it sideways to read the Massachusetts General Hospital label printed on the barrel and silently handed it back to her. “If you do see Hawk again,” he said seriously, “call me as soon as you can without raising his suspicions and don’t mention my name to him.” The urgent tone in his voice sent an icy shiver down her spine.
“I will,” she promised. She tucked the card and the pen into her purse and looked at him worriedly. “Are you in danger?”
“Don’t worry about me, Trisha,” he said firmly. “Just call me if he shows up and forget about him if he doesn’t. Everything will be fine.”
That sounded like something she would say to reassure a patient whose injury or illness was terminal but she just nodded somberly. “I will.”
“Goodbye, Trisha, take care.”
“You too.” Trisha climbed out and watched as Lionel drove away. She couldn’t help but wonder whether the next time she saw him he’d be a detective, a date, or a patient.
7
Hawk trudged along the sidewalk to the front door of Pendragon Security’s Boston office, the scattered salt crystals crunching under his boots. The building was fairly typical for a Pendragon facility, all straight lines, glossy black framing, and deeply tinted windows that let sunlight in and almost nothing out. This one was only three stories tall, situated in one of the newer business parks across the river in Cambridge.
He pulled open one of the large double doors bearing the company’s portcullis logo and stepped inside. He was immediately confronted with an identical set of doors keeping the outside weather from getting into the lobby, but these doors refused to open. He looked around for a call button but a voice crackled out of a hidden speaker.
“State your business.” Whoever it was didn’t sound the least bit interested in his answer.
“I’m meeting someone.”
“Name?”
“Mine or his?” That seemed to throw his inquisitor off. After three heartbeats of silence, the door buzzed and he pulled it open.
The lobby wasn’t all that large or interesting, just various shades of corporate gray and chrome. Two desks sat on either side of the bank of elevators in the far wall, each manned by a security guard who looked more than capable of taking down an armed intruder bare-handed if need be. The one on the right beckoned him over.
“Who are you here to see?” he asked. He looked irked that he had to come up with an entire English sentence.
“I don’t remember. I thought he’d be here already.”
The guard’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your name, then?”
“Hawk. Gavin Hawk.” There was no flicker of recognition in the guard’s hard-set features.
“Do you have a contact number at least?” he asked. “Or you can just sit and wait.” He nodded to the six chairs set out for guests, none of them currently occupied.
“Fine,” Hawk sighed. He dug inside his jacket for his phone. He scrolled through the messages Nim sent him on the way, but the guard’s attention was focused on Hawk’s left arm.
“What’s inside your coat there?” he asked. Hawk couldn’t see his hands but the guard’s shoulders shifted in a way that suggested he was opening a drawer.
“My tablet.” He pulled it out and showed the Pendragon logo on the back before tucking it away again. “I was keeping it warm.”
“You’re an employee?” the guard asked suspiciously.
“Yeah.”
“Do you have your pass key?” He held out his hand and Hawk sighed again. He set his phone and the tablet on the counter and dug out his wallet. The guard took the white plastic card and inserted it in the reader on his terminal. He scanned the information on the display, no doubt checking Hawk’s face against the Pendragon database, and then he paused and leaned forward. His eyes got really big and he shot a look at his counterpart at the other desk.
“Sorry about the delay, Mr. Hawk, sir.” Hawk half expected him to stand up and salute. He took back the proffered pass key and silently stowed it away. “Do you have your contact’s name or number, sir? I can get him down here right away.”
“Just a sec.” Hawk scrolled through his messages until he found the entry he was looking for. “Tam Nguyen.”
“Dr. Nguyen? Have a seat, sir, and I’ll call him down.” The guard was nearly falling over himself trying to help now and Hawk wondered what was in his profile that caused such a dramatic change. His title wasn’t anything special.
“Where’s his office? I’ll just go up.”
“Sorry, sir, it’s a secure area. You need to be escorted by an authorized employee.”
“And I’m not authorized?” Hawk scowled.
“No, sir, not for this building. Sorry, sir.” He looked worried that Hawk would fire him on the spot for not letting him through.
“Hmph. Fine, get him down here.”
“Yes, sir. Just take a seat.” He waved towards the guest chairs but Hawk stayed where he was. The guard snatched up the desk phone, punching in a five-digit number. Nothing happened for a few tense seconds and tiny beads of sweat appeared on his forehead before someone finally answered. “Dr. Nguyen? This is Forster at the front desk. Mr. Hawk is here to see you.” Forster listened and nodded before hanging up. “He’ll be right down, sir.”
Hawk just grunted and leaned against the counter, eyeing the numbers above the elevators. Two of them said 1 and the other was stuck at 3. The other guard watched him curiously, no doubt wondering what the fuss was all about. No one said anything and the lobby was deathly still except for Forster typing something at his terminal.
The 3
switched to 2 and stayed there for a good half minute before turning into a 1 a second before the bell dinged and the doors opened. A youngish man with Asian features stepped out, glanced around the lobby, and headed straight for Hawk with a broad smile.
“Mr. Hawk!” he exclaimed, holding out his hand. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Boston!” Despite his ancestry, his accent was pure New England. The picture badge dangling from his shirt pocket identified him as Dr. Tam Nguyen.
Hawk shook his hand briefly before he pulled Lucas’s tablet from his coat. “Did Nim tell you what I need?”
“Briefly.” Nguyen took the tablet and looked it over. “Let’s go upstairs.” He turned back to the elevators and Hawk followed close behind.
“Mr. Hawk! Your badge!” Forster held out a badge much like Nguyen’s, except with his name and a photo that made his driver’s license look like a glamour shot. Hawk took it silently and stuffed it in his pocket. Forster opened his mouth, probably to remind him it was supposed to be visible at all times, but he subsided without saying anything.
Hawk joined Nguyen in the elevator and watched him tap the 2 button. “Can you unlock it?” he asked, jerking his chin at the tablet.
“Let’s wait until we’re in the secure zone,” said Nguyen. “We can talk there.”
“This building isn’t secure?” Hawk twirled his finger in the air and Nguyen shook his head with a wry smile.
“Secure enough for most purposes,” he said, “but not nearly secure enough for this, according to Madame Nim.” The elevator dinged and let them out at the end of an ordinary-looking hallway. “This way.”
They passed several locked and windowless doors on either side of the hallway, each of them sporting an obscure string of letters and numbers, before Nguyen directed him down a short passageway terminated by a truly impressive door. It looked like a bank vault from a science fiction movie, complete with stainless steel latches bigger than Hawk’s fists and a softly-glowing console set into the wall.
“You first, Mr. Hawk,” said Nguyen, waving him forward. “Put your pass key in that slot there, enter your code, and then hold still for a facial scan.”
“I know how it works,” Hawk grumbled. He went through the steps, wincing at the bright flash from the camera. The console double-beeped and displayed his name and photo, along with the word Unauthorized in glowing red letters.
“Unauthorized?” Hawk repeated. He looked down at his pass key, wondering if he’d somehow gotten it mixed up with someone else’s. None of the keys were marked in any way so it wasn’t impossible. Except it worked at the apartment, he reminded himself.
“Unauthorized for the secure zone. It’s strictly need-to-know,” explained Nguyen. He sounded apologetic. “I’ll need to grant you temporary access.”
He stepped up to the console and went through the same sequence, entering an additional code on the keypad. His image popped up beside Hawk’s and both were marked Authorized.
One by one, the latches on the door withdrew. When the last one cleared, the door itself swung silently inwards, revealing a small chamber with another door beyond. Hawk sighed resignedly as the two men stepped in and Nguyen grinned.
“Not to worry,” he said, “this one’s easier.”
He placed his hand on a reader mounted on the side wall and the outer door ponderously closed again, the latches sounding like coffin nails being hammered in as they sealed the two men in. The inner door was a much simpler affair, although they had to use their pass keys and codes again and Nguyen had to reauthorize Hawk.
“Let me guess,” Hawk said dryly. “If I coerce you into opening the doors, you can enter a special code that releases poison gas in here.”
“Considering I’d be trapped in here with you, my incentive to do so would be pretty small,” Nguyen noted. “But I do have a code to lock the doors and alert the security team. There’s no air supply in here, so it would get unpleasant pretty quickly. Here we go.” He pressed his hand against the reader again and the inner door opened.
The room beyond looked like something NASA could use for a Mars mission. Steps led down into a pit with two rings of computer terminals, all of them occupied by men and women staring intently at multiple screens, although a few pairs of eyes looked them over curiously. The overhead lights were turned down low and the sounds of typing and clicking seemed strangely muted.
“What’s going on here?” Hawk asked. The air seemed to swallow up his voice and Nguyen noticed his frown.
“The secure zone is completely isolated from the rest of the building, physically, acoustically, and electronically,” he explained. “Nothing can get in or out except through that doorway. The acoustic insulation in the walls dampens the echoes you’d normally hear in an office, which is why it sounds a bit strange in here. You’ll get used to it.” Nguyen nodded at the computer team. “Most of them are working on developing new cryptanalysis techniques. Codebreaking,” he added, just in case Hawk didn’t know what that meant.
“So is one of them going to have to unlock that?” Hawk asked, jerking his chin at the tablet in Nguyen’s hands. “Is it going to take long?”
“No, we have tools specifically designed for this sort of thing. It happens more often than you’d think. This way.”
Nguyen led the way around the pit and opened an unobtrusive door marked Analysis 2. It was the size of a large closet, housing a small table, two chairs, and an array of electronic equipment on the shelving unit that occupied one entire wall. He set the tablet on the table and waved Hawk to one of the chairs as he pulled a case the size of a desktop printer off the shelf.
He placed it on the table beside the tablet and plugged its cord into a covered outlet set into the table top. The machine briefly lit up like a Christmas tree and then settled down, blinking a single angry-looking red light. Nguyen uncoiled a thin strand dangling from a jack in the wall and inserted it into the back of the unit with a sharp click. The light turned green and Nguyen nodded to himself.
“All right, this’ll take just a few minutes,” he said. He plucked what looked like a normal pass key from the shelf, but this one had a long ribbon cable attached to it. The connector went into the back of the machine and the pass key slid easy into the tablet’s slot. The tablet lit up and prompted for its six-digit access code. “Is this the first time you’ve forgotten your passcode, Mr. Hawk?” Nguyen asked absently. He flipped up a small screen on the machine, exposing a keyboard.
“I didn’t forget. It belongs to Lucas Butler.”
Nguyen lifted his hands from the keyboard. “Oh.” He looked perturbed as he frowned down at the tablet. “I’ll need his authorization then.”
“He can’t give it. He’s in a coma in the hospital.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” Nguyen ran his hand through his short black hair. “All right, no problem. I can issue an override, but it’ll be flagged at headquarters.”
“Nim knows we’re doing this. Get on with it.”
Nguyen nodded and extracted his own pass key from his pocket, inserting it into another slot on the machine. He typed for a minute, frowning at whatever appeared on his display, and finally nodded. “All right, I’ll need your key now. I’ll set it up so you’re able to access the tablet with your own code.”
Hawk nodded and dug out his pass key again, handing it over silently. Nguyen swapped his out and typed again. On the tablet, the access code cycled randomly for a slow count to twenty and then stopped. “934177?” Hawk read. “Is that Lucas’s code?”
“That’s the new code you’ll use with your pass key,” Nguyen explained. “Memorize it. It’ll disappear as soon as I unplug the cracker.”
Hawk growled irritably and looked around. Someone had left a pen on the table but there wasn’t a single scrap of paper in sight. He wrote the number on the palm of his hand instead.
“That violates several security directives, Mr. Hawk,” Nguyen reminded him uneasily.
“I’m in a hurry. Can I un
lock it now?” Nguyen looked like he was going to protest, but he finally nodded and unplugged his machine. Hawk retrieved his pass key and inserted it into the tablet, which immediately prompted him for the access code. He carefully copied it from his hand and the normal home screen appeared. “Looks like it worked.”
“Good,” said Nguyen, although he looked uneasy. He unplugged the cables from the power outlet and the wall jack and carefully stowed everything away on the shelf. “Is there anything else you need?”
Hawk shook his head with a scowl as he searched for Lucas’s email app and opened it up. Nothing was displayed except a complaint about No Network Connection. “How come this isn’t working?” he grumbled.
Nguyen leaned over his shoulder to see what he was talking about. “We’re isolated from the outside world in here, remember?” he asked. “That includes wireless connections. You’ll be able to access the Internet or the corporate network when you’re outside.”
“Fuck.” Hawk stood and shoved the tablet under his jacket. “All right, let’s go.”
Nguyen led him back down through the electronic maze to the lobby, where he wished Hawk luck with whatever he was doing. The tone in his voice hinted that he’d really like to know what that was. Hawk briefly toyed with the idea of sitting in the lobby and accessing the information on Lucas’s tablet, just in case he needed Nguyen’s help again, but instead he just nodded and strode for the door. He had someplace else to be right now.
8
The flood of patients through the ER ebbed by mid-afternoon and Trisha was finally able to sit at the desk and rest her feet while she caught up on her paperwork. She made frustratingly little progress at entering the backlog of medical information, though.
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