“This way,” Raymond said. She led them to a room just round the corner from the elevators and out of sight of the entrance. She knocked on the door and entered. A big man whom Raymond introduced as Duffy turned in his chair and nodded to Ryker and Morales. Besides his uniform he wore a lightweight wire headset and mike. In front of him were eighteen flat screen monitors arranged in three banks of six. Ryker counted as many tape machines stacked to one side and numbered. The monitor images changed constantly, cycling through various floors and hallways, some empty, some not.
“You’re ready to go,” Duffy said, pointing to one of the tape decks. Raymond offered Ryker a second chair, which he declined like a true gentleman. Morales grabbed it and pretended to sit down, then laughed and offered it to Raymond.
“Thanks,” she said, dropping into the chair with a sigh. “Been on my damn feet all day. I’m claiming for shoe leather, and Lieutenant Furino better okay it.”
“So what’s on TV?” Morales asked. “Spongebob Squarepants?”
“This,” Raymond said, leaning forward to press the Play button. She pointed to the lower-right TV monitor, which showed a view of the hotel lobby and reception desk. The time stamp said 08:17. Ryker felt a tingle of anticipation in his stomach. She’d found something! Six customers stood at the reception desk, attended by three hotel clerks. Further back, a woman of around sixty sat on a couch reading one of the pamphlets scattered on the coffee tables, which advertised tours of the city, trips around the Bay, restaurants, attractions. Pedestrians and street traffic were visible through the glass doors. The uniformed doorman stood in profile, one eye on the street and one on the lobby. The time stamp changed to 08:18 and from somewhere off to the left, a woman wearing a long black coat over black pants and shoes appeared. She strode to the entrance without pause. The doorman saw her coming, opened a door for her, and smiled pleasantly. She went down the steps, turned left and was instantly lost in the stream of passers-by.
“You think that’s her?” Morales said.
“She knew the position of the camera,” Ryker said. “Didn’t turn round, just kept walking. We saw her hair, that’s all. Same length and style as the woman we saw on the suite hallway tape.”
Raymond’s nimble fingers worked the tape deck controls. The tape ran in reverse. The doorman opened the door and the woman back-stepped into the lobby. She’d almost vanished off-screen, returning to the point where she’d first appeared, when Raymond hit Play again. The woman walked toward the entrance. Her reflection showed in the glass doors. Just before the doorman opened the door for her, her reflection became more solid, almost equal in quality to a low-resolution digital camera picture. The doorman’s uniform jacket, behind the door, darkened the glass and somehow gathered sufficient light to show her face, clearly enough for Ryker to realize she was Chinese. Raymond hit a button and the face swelled to fill the TV monitor. The edge of the screen flickered uncertainly while the center of the picture remained stable, giving them a blurry but almost-distinct mug shot. To Ryker’s relief, she looked nothing like Valerie Lin whose features were softer and more feminine. Not that this woman was by any means ugly. He thought of Michelle Yeoh, whose strong features had mesmerized him throughout Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
Raymond indicated a slimline printer connected to Duffy’s master control panel by a USB cable. Ryker expected the printer to do something, but Raymond picked up a folder with the hotel logo instead, and opened it to show him a glossy hardcopy of exactly what was on the TV monitor. “Here’s one I prepared earlier,” she said. “So how are we doing?” Her smile told him she already knew she’d made a lot of people very happy, starting with Ryker and not necessarily ending with Captain Jerko.
“You’ve shown this to hotel staff?”
“Soon as the ink was dry. Duty manager doesn’t know her. Cleaning staff manager is checking it out, they hire temporary staff as needed, and they took on four new employees last week. Kitchen staff is more stable.”
Ryker stared at the print. He knew it was just a trick of light and camera angle, like a portrait whose eyes followed you around the room, but the woman seemed to stare at him, and he didn’t like what he saw. The killer’s eyes were lifeless black stones. He didn’t deny that her face held a measure of physical beauty, but those eyes….
“Where’s the cleaning manager?” he said, passing the print to Morales.
Raymond got up and headed for the door, clapping Duffy on the shoulder as she passed him by. Ryker added his nod of thanks, which Duffy acknowledged with a serious scowl that said he was too busy doing his job to shake hands or exchange verbal pleasantries, but had nonetheless taken a professional pleasure from assisting the S.F.P.D. in their hour of need.
“Just so we’re clear,” Morales said, as Raymond led them toward another door. “That wasn’t Danny Lin’s wife, was it?”
“That would be too easy,” Ryker said. “No, it’s not her. She’s a new player, worse luck. We need to fax this to Furino, stat. Luis, can you talk to the duty manager?”
“Sure.” Morales took the print to the reception desk.
Raymond knocked on the door and entered, taking them into an L-shaped office with a window onto a delivery bay. Two of the three desks were occupied by women wearing matching black pants suits. Raymond introduced Ryker to one of the pair. “Hey Martina, this is Detective Sergeant Ryker. You got anything for us?”
Martina spread four sheets across her desk, turned so Ryker could read them. They contained employee names, addresses, contact telephone numbers. Each had a passport-sized photograph stapled to the top right corner. None matched the Chinese woman who’d left the hotel at 08:18. One was Caucasian, two were Afro-Americans, the fourth a Latina with a winning smile.
“They started work here last week?” Ryker asked.
“That’s right.”
“The woman we’re looking for is Chinese.” Martina gave Raymond a look, as if accusing her of withholding that gem of information. Ryker said, “We only just found out ourselves. How about before last week? Can you check everyone who started this month?”
Martina chewed her lip for a second. “I suppose that’s okay. I’m not trying to be difficult or anything. I’m just not sure if I should be asking for a warrant, that’s all. Because it’s private employee information, I mean.”
“We’re not taking anything away, Martina,” Raymond said. “We just want to look at the photographs. We’ll get a warrant if we need to take anything away. Okay?”
Martina opened a filing drawer divided into sections with colored folders. She extracted one, flipped through pages, and fished out half-a-dozen sheets. To Ryker’s annoyance only four of them had photographs attached. Two were Chinese, but neither resembled the face he’d seen reflected in the glass door. He studied the two sheets without photographs. The first had been filled out by Maria Fernandez, aged 25, whose flowing looped handwriting was legible but required concentration to read. The second was filled out in neat capital letters that could have been printed by a machine. Amy Wong had been working at the Mandarin Oriental for eleven days. She’d had two of those days off. Her supervisor’s initial comments were favorable, Amy was punctual, her work was satisfactory, and she worked well on her own.
Ryker tried to recall where he’d heard that name before. When it came to him he nearly slapped his head. Amy Wong was one of the characters from Futurama, a show whose off-the-wall humor consistently made him laugh out loud. He accepted that it was probably just a mild coincidence. There must be hundreds of Amy Wongs in the country, perhaps dozens lived in San Francisco alone. Did he really expect a killer to watch the same cartoons as he did and pick a character name as her alias?
In the file was a copy of Ms. Wong’s photo identification, in this case, a California driver’s license. Ryker looked at it eagerly, but frowned when he saw the picture. Amy Wong we definitely in her 50s, and the jowls on her jaw line didn’t jibe with what he had seen in the video.