Chain of Evidence

the law behind her, she was attempting to take control of the security area of Roxin’s computer and open the arm of the gate from a remote location miles away.

The security gate resembled the ones at car rental lots-a red and white horizontal bar prevented entry and a long row of sharp spikes, designed to puncture tires, inhibited exit.

Dart waited nervously for Ginny’s magic.

“Anything?” he heard her ask.

“No.”

“One second,” she said. “How ’bout this?”

The gate opened.

“Bingo!” Dart said as he drove through. “You’re a genius.”

“Let’s just hope I can get you back out,” she said, only half teasing.

At this hour, his was the only car in the lot. He drove toward the several-story block of glass and metal that attached at the north end to the giant dome. The place looked like an enormous glowing spaceship.

Dart switched off the headlights. “I’m facing the second door from the south end,” he informed Ginny. “There’s no number on it.”

“The stairways are to your right?” she asked.

The glassed-in stairways were clearly visible to him. “That’s right.”

“Correct,” confirmed the spotter, also listening in.

“I’ve got it,” she informed him. “I’ve logged you into the system under the employee name of Nealy. George Nealy. He’s listed as a biochemical engineer assigned to B-block-whatever that is. Did you get that?”

“George Nealy. B-block,” Dart answered. To get him in, Ginny had needed to choose an existing employee’s identity. If stopped by security, he would claim to have lost his ID card somewhere between the parking lot and wherever they caught up to him.

“Can you get me in?” he asked.

“Tell me when you’re at the door,” she answered.

Dart climbed out of the car, reckoning that by now the night security had been notified of Nealy’s use of the parking lot. Outside the door was a stainless steel device used to read ID cards. Dart had none.

Standing at the door, he said, “I’m here.”

“Stand by,” Ginny said in his ear.

Dart’s nerves were already shot. He had no idea how he would make it through the next half hour. He checked in both directions repeatedly.

“How ’bout that?” Ginny asked.

The security device’s blue-green LCD read:

INCORRECT SIGN-ON INFORMATION-PLEASE TRY AGAIN.

Dart tried to open the door. “No,” he informed her. He worried that she was in over her head. Completely unfamiliar with Roxin’s security system, she had to come to understand it all on the fly. Real time, as she called it.

“Stand by,” she repeated. “How ’bout that?” she inquired.

INCORRECT SIGN-ON INFORMATION-PLEASE TRY AGAIN.

“Negative,” Dart announced, sweat streaming from his armpits with the temperature one degree below freezing.

“This is lookout,” reported the man atop the phone pole. “I have an unidentified individual, on foot, heading south along the east side.”

Dart looked up. He could just make out a tiny black dot a hundred yards away. A security guard-and heading toward him.

“We have one more try,” Ginny explained. “If we fail, then Nealy will not be permitted inside, and if we’re to continue, I’ll have to check you into the parking lot under a different name and try again.”

INCORRECT SIGN-ON INFORMATION-ACCESS DENIED-PLEASE CONTACT THE SECURITY DESK-THANK YOU.

“We’re toast,” Dart announced.

“Unidentified individual is seventy yards and closing,” reported the lookout.

“The gate?” Ginny asked, panicked.

Dart looked over his shoulder. The entrance gate rose and fell.

“You got it.”

“Hold the phone,” she said.

The guard approached, now less than fifty yards away. The man waved, still too far for his face to be seen, and conversely, Dart’s could not be seen by him.

“We’re running out of headroom,” Dart warned.

Another few yards, and Dart’s face would be identifiable. How many Roxin employees would a security guard recognize?

“Joe?” she asked.

Dart read:

WELCOME: DR. JANET JORGENSON

The door clicked. Dart pulled on the handle. It opened.

The guard was twenty yards away. They could clearly see each other. You’ve got to think on your feet, Zeller had once schooled him. He’s an outside guard, Dart thought. Disarm his suspicion. Dart raised his voice and offered, “You want me to hold the door for you?”

The guard shook his head. “No, thanks,” he answered.

Dart stepped inside, his armpits soaked, his throat dry. The elevator was straight ahead; a door marked the stairs to his right. Not wanting to wait for an elevator car, and recalling from his earlier trip to Roxin that elevators also required security access, Dart chose to use the stairs. The door thumped shut behind him.

“Janet Jorgenson?” he complained into the microphone, climbing the stairs. His new identity had given him a sex change.

In his left ear he heard, “The name was immediately above Nealy’s on the list. What can I tell you?”

“Who am I?” Dart asked, although it didn’t matter-he couldn’t very well pose as Jorgenson.

“The thing is,” she explained, “the way the system works-the reason Nealy would not work back there-you have to be a certain security clearance to have access to all doors. Otherwise you’re supposed to take a particular door at a certain time of day. Nealy wasn’t being allowed in. Jorgenson’s got the run of the place-clearance five,” she told him.

“Who am I?” Dart repeated, feeling uneasy about this.

“Vice president and deputy director of R and D,” she said.

“You made me Martinson’s assistant?” Dart queried angrily. Security might notify Proctor of an unexpected late-night visit-if Proctor had any sense, he had his team on alert. Proctor was likely to know Martinson’s next-in- command, and it seemed to Dart he might question a visit by her at this wee hour of the morning, might see Dart’s ruse for what it was. It pushed him to hurry.

“This is seat-of-the-pants, Dartelli.” she sounded bitter.

He wondered what Haite was thinking as he heard two ex-lovers argue during a sting. He charged up the stairs as quickly as his bad ankle would carry him.

The lookout atop the phone pole reported, “The unidentified individual is inspecting the Lexus. He appears to be using a handheld communications device.”

“Scanning,” returned the voice of the dispatcher.

Dart continued up at a run, passing the door marked with a large “2.”

“We’ve intercepted the radio transmission,” the calm voice of the dispatcher said. “The individual called in the vehicle registration number and is awaiting callback. The sergeant is recommending that you abort operations at once. Repeat: Recommending you abort. Do you copy?” After a brief hesitation the dispatcher said, “Evacuation plan A as in Alpha. Do you copy?”

Plan A called for Dart to head on foot toward the ERT’s position, where the elite team would help him over the perimeter fence and to safety. All this was said not for Dart’s benefit but for that of whoever might be listening