But Jonah had put the security on test mode, which would have converted automatically to the armed mode in two hours even if he didn’t manually reset the codes … if there hadn’t been a fire.
“You’re making assumptions, Duke,” he muttered to himself. Just because Jonah’s codes were used didn’t mean that Jonah himself had disabled the system. But why would Jonah give the codes to anyone? There was a fail-safe; if Jonah was threatened, he could put in false codes that would appear to disable the system, but alert both Duke and the sheriff’s department. Duke had successfully used such protocols with high-risk businesses where having a “panic” code worked exceptionally well. Several smaller banks used it as the last resort for their secure areas. There was also a panic button in the lab, in the lobby, in Jonah’s office, and in Jim’s office.
But the system had been put in test mode at 12:48 a.m.
Sheriff Sanger had told him the 911 call came in from a passing driver at 1:57 a.m., more than an hour later.
There were no video files. They just weren’t there. All cameras fed into the main database, and it was replicated every hour to an external server. If the replication failed, the system administrator would be alerted.
The digital files had to be here! Somewhere … he would re-create them if he had to.
“Dammit.” He’d already left two messages for Russ Larkin, the I.T director for Butcher-Payne.
Duke scanned the log, making notes on the pad beside him.
Jonah-or someone with his personal codes-had entered the building at 12:15 a.m. He had turned off internal security, but the doors were still locked, cameras on, and to enter someone would need an employee card
“Jonah, what were you doing last night?”
He buzzed Jayne Morgan, the in-house computer database manager for Rogan-Caruso, and asked her to come to his office. Duke had worked closely with the young, socially inept genius to code computer security systems for many of their clients. Duke’s job was on-site, Jayne handled most of the programming.
Though Duke had a corner office with a view on two sides-one looking down the K Street Mall, the other overlooking Cesar Chavez Park-he grew antsy when he had to spend more than an hour at his desk. His strength was field security, not sitting around analyzing computer data. His favorite assignments were when he was hired to physically break in to facilities and analyze their security systems. Jayne’s strength was cyberhacking.
“Is this for Dr. Payne?” Jayne asked.
“Yes. The video backups are missing. They seem to be completely gone.”
“Not possible,” she said with confidence.
He slid over a notepad listing the details he knew. “Why would he put the system in test mode in the middle of the night?”
“Because you can’t turn off the system without alerting us.”
“Shit, I knew that.” He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay, someone threatened him. Someone manipulated him. But why would he do it? How would they even know about the test mode? That the system can’t be turned off?” Any interruption would send an alert to the Rogan-Caruso on-call security supervisor. The logs said no such interruption happened until 1:45 a.m. Which would have been about the time the fire had damaged the electrical system. The disruption prevented the Rogan-Caruso servers from talking to the Butcher-Payne system, which triggered the automatic alert.
“An inside job?”
“Maybe.” He frowned. He’d already printed out background reports on all Butcher-Payne employees, past and present. “Maybe he was meeting someone at the lab, but why so late?” And that still didn’t explain putting the system in test mode.
His cell phone rang. He would have ignored it, except it was Jim Butcher.
“Jim,” he answered.
“Is Jonah dead?”
“I’m sorry.”
“God fucking dammit.” Jim sounded tough, but his voice was strained. “What happened?”
“We don’t know everything, but I’m consulting with the FBI on this one.” Nora had seemed amicable to the suggestion earlier, but he had to play the situation carefully or she might pull him off. Duke didn’t want to go over her head, but he would if it meant staying on the case. “I’m not going to stop until I find out who did this.”
“Trevor-”
“I called him.” Talking to Jonah’s nineteen-year-old son had been just about the hardest thing Duke had ever done, even more difficult than seeing Jonah’s body. “The press was all over the place. I didn’t want him to hear about it thirdhand.”
“Thank you. I need to talk to him. This is-shit, it’s not right, Duke.”
It wasn’t, but there was nothing Duke could say to alleviate Jim’s pain. All he could do was act. Action he was good at.
“I’m going through the security records now, but someone definitely tampered with the digital camera files. And someone-maybe Jonah-used his personal codes to put the system in test mode.”
“Jonah is-was-a brilliant scientist,” Jim said, “and a genius on many levels. But he set off the alarms more than anyone. I don’t think he even understood what the test mode was.”
Jim was right. “Nevertheless, his codes were used.”
“What did Russ say?”
“I haven’t been able to reach him.”
“I swear, if he’s off fucking around I’ll-” Jim stopped. “You don’t think he’s in danger? Or involved-”
Duke knew what Jim was thinking. Had their I.T. manager been involved with the arson? Had Russ Larkin killed Jonah?
It didn’t make sense. Duke didn’t know Russ well, but he had interviewed him, hired him, trained him. Russ didn’t seem the type to care about any political cause. His background check had come up squeaky clean. He performed well. And he’d been there for five years, ever since Rogan-Caruso was first hired to develop a security plan for Butcher-Payne. Five years was a long time to wait to kill someone.
But Duke couldn’t rule it out until he talked to Russ himself.
“I’ll swing by his apartment,” he said.
“I just landed. My flight was delayed nearly an hour. I’m driving now to Butcher-Payne to meet with the FBI and God knows who else. I don’t know what to expect-”
“I’ll meet you there.” Duke hung up, gathered his laptop, and packed everything into his satchel. To Jayne he said, “Do everything you can to find those video files. Anything you need to make that happen, it’s yours. If you need my office, use it.”
“I’m on it, Duke. I won’t let you down.”
“You never have.”
Jayne left and Duke started to follow, then stopped. Slowly, he walked back around his desk and opened the bottom right-hand drawer. Only one thing was stored in that drawer.
The Colt.45 mocked him, lying there with only a box of fifty rounds for company.
He didn’t want the Colt.
He didn’t need the gun.
He didn’t want to touch it.
He’d been a marksman in the Marines, a sharpshooter with any long or short gun the military handed him. He’d killed with a gun, and while it had greatly disturbed him, it had been necessary in battle. Emotions he could put into a box and seal. Something he couldn’t forget, but could understand. War wasn’t pretty, even undeclared wars the politicians liked to call “conflicts” because that sounded less scary on the six o’clock news.
After his three-year tour of duty was over, he followed in his brother Kane’s footsteps-Marines turned mercenary.
Duke closed his eyes and was transported thirteen years into the past, to when he and Kane had worked together. Before their parents were killed, before the twins ran away to Europe, before Duke became the de facto father of his youngest brother.
