ISIS logo. The round logo had a hieroglyph of the Egyptian goddess Isis, representing the idea of eternal life and resurrection, of life and blood, over arched with the words International Security amp; Information Services, Inc. It wasn’t the logo Drake expected from a company promising clients protection and security. Instead, it suggested life ever after, granted by an ancient Egyptian goddess. What had some advertising consultant been smoking when he came up with that one, Drake wondered.
He also noticed the Suburban had antennas on the roof and rear window, twenty-four-inch wheels and heavy-duty red shocks that made armor a strong possibility. At least the company had some of the right equipment to do its job.
When he walked to the parking garage elevator, Drake noticed direct access to the fourth floor via keypad. Visitors and employees had to enter on the first floor. With a glance and mental salute to the surveillance camera over the elevator, Drake took it to the first floor and found a receptionist, who looked a lot like the NFL player they called the Refrigerator, waiting for him. The semi-circular redwood kiosk was four feet tall, but the giant sitting behind it made it look like furniture for a first grade classroom.
Drake had to announce himself before the man looked up from the paper he was reading.
“Hi there, I’m the attorney for a client of yours that had a security malfunction and wound up with someone dead. I’d like to see your manager.”
The giant in the sharkskin suit squinted his eyes, as if to say you’re not cute, or welcome. Nevertheless, in a soft voice he offered a non-standard business greeting.
“Mr. Sayf is busy at the moment, Mr. Drake. Step back and raise your arms to shoulder level. The security guard behind you will clear you for a meeting with Mr. Sayf.”
Drake hadn’t heard the security guard approach, but when he looked over his shoulder, the guard was standing right behind him. He had to smile as he raised his arms and allowed the scanner wand to trace the outline of his body. Ten years ago he would have sensed the man’s approach. Good thing he wasn’t back in the field. A loss of focus like that would get you killed.
He spotted a two-inch round lens, disguised to look like the ISIS logo, mounted in the center of the kiosk. The lens aimed at his midsection. He assumed it was an x-ray device, used to see if he carried a weapon. At least he’d noticed that, he thought.
When the security guard finished his search, the sumo at the kiosk nodded and spoke into his cordless headset.
“Drake is here. Shall I send him up?” He listened for a moment, then told Drake to take the elevator to the fourth floor. Someone would take him to Mr. Sayf. There was a smirk on the sumo’s face when he turned back to his paper.
Three floors later, the elevator opened onto an executive suite that outdid most large corporations, and certainly the top law firms in the city. This time a pretty secretary sat behind an impressive desk. It was a slab of smoked glass on a black onyx pedestal with only a flat-screen monitor and a small black phone console on it. Drake noticed the long slender legs and model’s body as he approached. Her black hair was cut short and her hazel green eyes challenged him to keep his eyes off her generous cleavage. He tried hard to comply.
“Mr. Sayf will be with you in a moment, Mr. Drake. Is there anything I can get you while you wait?” she asked, in a voice that would seduce a vice cop.
“Not right now, thank you,” Drake said, returning her offer with a smile that said you’re beautiful, but your boss is the main attraction here.
Behind her, Drake saw open glass doors and a black man with a phone to his ear, sitting behind a beautiful rosewood desk. He was turned toward a wall-to-wall glass window that looked over a wooded area and a small stream. Off to the right of the wooded area was a helicopter pad with another black Suburban parked beside it.
The man who turned around in his chair had to be at least six foot seven or eight. He reminded Drake of a professional athlete, NBA or NFL. His creamed-mocha polo shirt barely contained a muscled upper body. When he put the phone down, the wafer-thin gold watch and thin gold chain around his neck reflected sunlight from outside.
The secretary told him he could go in, and Sayf turned to watch Drake enter his office.
“I have an appointment in a few minutes, I wasn’t expecting anyone. I can give you a few minutes,” he said.
The man was a poor liar.
“Oh, I think you were, or at least your staff was. My name’s Drake. I’m here to find out how you screwed up so badly that my client’s secretary was murdered. Why your expensive security system conveniently malfunctioned.”
“Who are you?” Sayf said, rising from his chair.
“I’m the attorney Martin Research hired. What do I call you, Kaamil or Sayf?” Drake said, looking down at the nameplate on the desk. “I’ve never figured out which name you Muslims prefer to use.”
For a moment, he thought the man was going to dive over the desk at him. Just as quickly, the anger in Sayf’s eyes dimmed. Not as cool as he thinks he is, but he’s controlled, Drake observed.
“I am Muslim, Mr. Drake. You may call me Kaamil. You can disrespect my religion, but be careful when you start blaming my company for that woman’s death. Slander has a hefty price tag.”
“Truth’s a defense. We don’t know what the truth is, do we Kaamil? Have you discovered how the security system went down? Was it turned off? According to Sam Newman at Martin Research, there are only two people with the access code to disable the system. He has the code and so do you.”
Kaamil sat down and leaned back in his chair. His hands were still on the top of his desk, but his eyes were taunting.
“Why would anyone here want to turn off the system? We get paid to make sure it’s functioning. Sometimes systems do fail. But you’re asking the wrong person. Ask Mr. Newman. He has more reasons to disable that system than I do.”
Drake noticed the personalization of the accusation, a subtle deflection from the company to Kaamil, and wondered why.
“If you have reason to think Sam Newman is involved, why haven’t you told anyone? There’s a murder investigation underway, and Martin Research is one of your clients. I’d think you would want to keep your company out of this.”
“If I had something solid for the police, I would provide that information. All I have are rumors. Now, I’ve told you all I’m going to, Mr. Drake. I’m a busy man.”
With that, Kaamil stood, dismissing Drake.
Walking by the secretary, he couldn’t help wondering why Kaamil pointed him to Sam Newman. Had he missed something? And who was Kaamil? The security malfunction may have been just a malfunction, but he was certain there was more to Kaamil and ISIS than anyone knew. They were hiding something. He was sure of it.
When he got to the parking garage, the black Suburban next to his car was gone. One space over was a black Mercedes SLS AMG roadster in the only reserved spot. It had to be Kaamil’s. Powered by the largest V8 Mercedes produced, with a price tag over one hundred eighty thousand dollars, the car fit the arrogance of the man. The salary he earned as a glorified security guard, however, shouldn’t be enough to pay for the SLS.
There was a lot about Kaamil he was uncomfortable with. He also had questions about Sam Newman. It was time to take a closer look at both.
~~~
As soon as he saw Drake’s Porsche leave the parking garage on the building’s secure cam display, Kaamil swore loudly. The attorney didn’t believe him, he could tell. Pointing at Sam Newman would buy a little time but probably wind up biting him in the butt. Newman lived alone, and drank too much. But he had no reason to disable the security system. This time, he’d let Malik make the call. Surely he would see they needed to deal with the attorney. If he didn’t, Kaamil would take care of the problem himself.
He entered Malik’s personal email address on the company’s ultra-secure, encrypted email system, and briefed him on this latest development.
The Martin Research attorney just visited me, asking about the security system I disabled there. He’s suspicious. I told him to take a look at the head of security who had the other code key. Suggest we make it look like the head of security was behind the murder. Please advise. K
