'It's even an open question which police force she'd call,' Nori added. 'Her sister could live on either side of the causeway. Or elsewhere. National borders are close in this neck of the woods.'
'True enough, but we do we know Kirsten lives in Singapore. If we're lucky, she'll be listed in the public telephone directory. And that might give us the info we need.'
'Maybe, maybe not,' Nori said. 'Most young, single women leave their addresses out of the listings. It's standard protection against sickos.'
'Now you're the one thinking like an American… and a New Yorker at that,' Nimec said with a wan smile. 'Singapore isn't the kind of place where there's going to be a problem with obscene phone callers. If she's in the book, we'll likely find out where she lives…'
'And the next step would be to get in there and look around for something with Sis's address written on it,' Nori said, completing his thought.
Nimec nodded agreement.
'I hate to risk breaking and entering,' he said. 'But if we have no better alternative…'
Nori wobbled her hand in the air to interrupt him, then gestured to the key he was holding, a spare they had obtained from Station Security to gain access to Blackburn's room.
'Leave that part to me,' she said.
It was a little past four in the afternoon when the two men in the Olds Cutlass drove up to the entry gate of the UpLink Cryptographies facility in Sacramento, slowing to a halt as they reached the guard station.
'Detective Steve Lombardi,' the driver told the guard through his open window. He tilted his head toward the man in the passenger seat. 'My partner here's Detective Craig Sanford.'
The guard regarded them through his mirrored sunglasses.
'How can I help you?' he said.
'We need to speak to the supervisor in charge,' Lombardi said. 'We've got a subpoena for crypto keys, you know the deal.'
The guard nodded. It was SOP for law enforcement to deliver court orders whenever there was an investigation or legal action involving the release of data-recovery keys used by UpLink software. With everybody from banks to supermarkets to Mafia hoods using crypto in their daily business operations nowadays, and thousands of keys stored in the data-recovery vaults, and all kinds of civil and criminal cases in which computerized files were requested as evidence, it wasn't unusual to get as many as four or five visits a week from police officers delivering subpoenas.
'Just need to see your ID and papers,' he said.
The driver took the requested items out of his sport jacket and gave them to the guard. A moment later the passenger reached over and passed the leather case holding his own badge and identification through the window.
The guard angled his mirrored lenses down at what he'd been handed, glancing over the police tins, unfolding the court papers.
'Everything kosher?' the driver asked.
The guard studied the ID and paperwork another second, then nodded and returned them through the window of his booth.
'Go right on ahead, fellas,' he said.
The doorman at the luxury condo near Holland Road, on the eastern part of Singapore Island, had scarcely arrived for his morning shift when he saw the pale blue taxi pull up near the entrance and discharge its passenger, a slight, nicely dressed young woman carrying a couple of overstuffed travel bags. The luggage aside, she looked as though she'd been traveling, her hair slightly messed, a somewhat frayed expression on her face.
As she struggled toward the building with the bags, he set down his tea and rose from his desk to get the door.
'Can help?' he asked in typical Singlish fashion, blending English words with Chinese sentence structure.
She set the bags down on the carpeted floor of the vestibule and fussed her hair into place.
'Yes. Or I hope so, anyway,' she said. 'I'm here for Kirsten Chu.'
The doorman regarded her a moment. Her American accent explained why he had not recognized her as an occupant of the high-rise. But he was familiar with the woman whose name she'd mentioned.
'Apartment Fifteen, I can call up, lah.' He reached for the intercom's handpiece. 'Your name, please?'
'No, you don't understand,' she said. 'Kirsten won't be home until tonight, and I was supposed to let myself in. But now I can't…'
She let the sentence trail off.
'Yes?' he said.
'Maybe I'd better start over.' She looked upset. 'I'm her sister Charlene, and I'm here visiting from the States. Did she mention my name to you, by any chance?'
He shook his head.
'Well, I suppose there wouldn't have been any need' she muttered to herself, rubbing her forehead.
'Yes?' the doorman said again. He was becoming increasingly baffled.
When she looked up at him, her large brown eyes were moist.
'You see, I have a key to her door… well I had a key to her door… but I think I may have lost it at the airport….'
'Yes?' he said for the third time, suddenly afraid she might burst into tears.
'Listen,' she said agitatedly. 'I don't quite know how to ask you this… it makes me feel so foolish.. but could you let me into her apartment? I haven't any idea where else to wait for her… she went to pick up our other sister, Anna… and isn't supposed to be home until very late, you see.. and I've got these bags…'
He gave her an uncomfortable look. 'That against rules, miss. Okay if you want leave bags with me, but I not can—'
'Please, I'll show my passport if you need identification,' she said at once, her voice trembling. She crouched over the bags she'd deposited on the vestibule's carpet, unzipped one of them, and began fumbling around inside it.
'Miss—'
The doorman cut himself short. Just as he'd feared, she had begun to sob. Tears spilling down her face, she bent there in front of him, pulling items out of the bag, dropping some of them in her distress, stuffing them hastily back into the bag and fishing out others….
'Wait, wait, my papers are in here somewhere… I'm so sorry… I just have to find them….'
The doorman looked at her, feeling sorry for her, thinking he couldn't just stand there and watch her cry.
'It okay, miss. It okay,' he said finally, reaching for the intercom button. 'I call superintendent, tell him let you in, no problem.'
Noriko stood and wiped a hand across her eyes.
'Thanks, that's so kind,' she said, sniffling. 'Really, I don't know what I'd've done without you.'
The driveway leading up to the encryption facility terminated in a parking area outside the main entrance, the left side of which was reserved for staff, the right for visitors. The men in the Cutlass swung into the visitors' section, found an empty slot, strode across the lot toward the flat cinder-block building, and approached the armed guard posted at the door.
'Detectives Lombardi and Samford?' he said, smiling pleasantly.
They both nodded.
'I was informed you gentlemen were on your way from the gate,' he said, and gestured toward the walkthrough weapons-detector beside his station. 'If you'd please leave your service weapons with me, and place any other metal articles you may have in the tray to your right, you can step through the scanners and come in.'
'We're cops, and cops carry guns,' the man who'd announced himself as Lombardi said. 'It's in our regulations.'
'Yes, and I apologize for the inconvenience. But a facility of this nature has to take added precautions, and most departments cooperate with them,' the security man said. 'If you'd prefer, I can call ahead to Mr. Turner… he's the supervisor you're going to see anyway… and request that he waive the requirement. I'm sure it wouldn't be
