Scrolling farther back and adjusting the focus to the upper station, Masseri spotted Paulsen and his partner as they emerged and took a position on the street outside. A few second later, he watched the bodyguard leave the upper station and backpedal past Paulsen.
‘There you are,’ Masseri said aloud. ‘Now, where did you come from?’
He watched his enemy round a corner and disappear from Paulsen’s line of sight. The bodyguard continued jogging backward for a few blocks before he reversed into the street-level entrance of one of Mount Washington’s biggest buildings.
Masseri watched as the timestamp wound in reverse. One hour. Two. Three. The bodyguard still had not reappeared. After scanning back six hours, Masseri was satisfied.
He entered the building’s address into his search engine and scanned the results. He immediately recognized the company at that location: Payne Industries.
The background check he had done on Sahlberg had listed Payne Industries as his primary employer. In fact, it appeared they had recruited him right out of college. If he had worked anywhere else after his retirement, it was not public knowledge. Whatever contributions he had made to his discipline — the likely reason for his employer’s interest in the old man — had been made during his time with Payne Industries.
Though he found it odd that Sahlberg would turn to his former employer for help, Masseri couldn’t deny the evidence. The bodyguard had clearly come from the Payne Industries building. Still, it seemed like an abnormal responsibility for corporate security.
He closed the program and packed away the tablet.
It was time for a field trip.
Masseri knew it would have been easier to follow Sahlberg and his bodyguard from the incline to wherever they went after that. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. He hadn’t dared to tail them in person with so many officers lurking around. He also couldn’t use the satellite feed to track their ultimate destination. By the time they had left the scene, the satellite had completed its pass over the city and was out of range. It would be another day before it would orbit this part of the country again, which was way too late for Masseri’s deadline.
With few choices left, he opted to pursue the bodyguard.
When Masseri entered the Payne Industries building, the first thing he noticed was the warmth of the lobby. It felt more like a luxury hotel than an office building. Designed by I. M. Pei, the Chinese-born American architect who was later selected to build the Louvre Pyramid, the spectacular glass atrium was accented by cherrywood paneling and a polished marble floor. Even the hardened Masseri was struck by the beauty of the sunlight as it danced through the glass ceiling like a prism and illuminated the space below.
But those feelings were fleeting.
In contrast to the warmth of the lobby, Masseri couldn’t help noticing the security measures. To access the elevators, visitors had to pass through a state-of-the-art body scanner. It was the type of thing that airport administrators dreamed about. It could detect firearms and explosives through a density scan, providing a virtual X-ray that clearly outlined weapons and other forbidden items. It could pick up traces of biological toxins such as anthrax and bubonic plague. It could even use thermal filters to distinguish elevations in body temperature — signifying a nervous or excited state, a typical precursor to violent acts.
Masseri was grateful for his decision to leave his sidearm in his car.
In addition, there were a multitude of armed guards on duty. There were two security desks at opposite corners of the lobby, each with three men stationed by it. The first was there to answer the phone and direct walk-ins. The second was fixated on a bank of video surveillance monitors that covered every inch of the property. The third did nothing more than scan the room for anything suspicious.
These were not rent-a-cops. They were well-schooled, disciplined guards, who had military training in their background. Masseri knew soldiers when he saw them.
Besides, rent-a-cops wore costumes and carried mace.
These men wore Kevlar and carried .44 Magnums.
Masseri had intended to sit quietly in the lobby as if he were waiting to meet someone. Shielded by a newspaper or magazine, he hoped to take in the action without drawing attention. Once inside, however, past the mirrored glass of the outside wall that had prevented him from getting a good look at the lobby’s setup, he realized his plan wouldn’t work. There were no couches on this level. There was no waiting area of any kind. There was only the pair of security desks and the six alert guards, two of whom were already sizing him up.
So far, he didn’t recognize any of them as the bodyguard.
In an instant, he changed his approach: instead of a businessman, he would be a confused traveler in search of directions. Committing to the ruse, he walked casually toward the nearest security officer.
‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ he said as he stepped to the desk, ‘but it looks like I’m in the wrong place. I’m looking for an old friend. I was told he lives at this address, but this obviously doesn’t look right.’ He nodded toward the company name on the wall. ‘Payne Industries? There’s no way that this building is also the Mountvue Apartments, is there?’
‘Afraid not,’ the officer said. ‘You’re a few blocks off.’
‘I didn’t think this was right. I mean, I’ve heard of secure lobbies and doormen, but this place is like the Vatican. Does the Pope live here or something?’
The guard ignored the question. ‘Have you visited the incline?’
The question burned in Masseri’s gut as he considered his response.
Was the guard trying to place him from the shooting?
If so, what should he do?
Run toward the exit? Make a play for the guard’s gun?
A split second before Masseri lunged forward, the officer continued his explanation. ‘It’s upriver a bit. You’ll see signs. Head that way, and Mountvue will be on your right.’
Masseri relaxed. The officer was only mentioning the landmark as a guide.
‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘I think I passed that a while ago. I’ll head back that way. Hey, thanks for your help. I owe you.’
‘No problem,’ the officer replied.
Masseri turned and headed back toward the revolving door. He needed to learn more before he could plan his next step. There were too many questions that remained unanswered.
Was Sahlberg still a part of Payne Industries?
What did Payne Industries do that required so much security?
All he knew for sure was that he needed to speak with his employer. The game had drastically changed. It was time to renegotiate his price.
38
Henri Toulon was the highest-ranking official in his division at Interpol headquarters, and yet Sebastian James still believed he was calling the shots.
Toulon had lost track of how many times James had ordered him to do this or that, and his tolerance for the secretary general’s assistant was waning. What had started as a pleasant game of annoying his greatest annoyance had quickly grown tiresome. At this point, Toulon cringed at the very sound of James’s voice. His updates, once entertaining, were now loathsome.
The quicker the Stockholm case was solved, the quicker Dial could return.
The sooner Dial made it back, the sooner he would deal with James.
For Toulon, solving the case meant something greater than simply bringing a villain to justice. It meant his life — and his cigarette breaks — could go back to normal.