“Nope. Only an ornery old calico named Leona that the people who run this place got from the ASPCA,” Julia said. “They keep her safe and overfed for her unfaltering dedication to the cause, don’t you fret.”
“As long as you tell me not to,” Gordian said. “Anyway, if you’re busy with things, I can call back—”
“No, believe me, I really was just waiting around for man and beast to get acquainted,” Julia said. “What’s up?”
“Well, your mother and I were hoping we could see you this weekend,” Gordian said. “You could come for dinner tomorrow, naturally bring Jack and Jill, and the three of you sleep over at the house. If you want, of course. Then stick around with us Sunday for brunch and pampering—”
“Sounds tempting, Dad. Especially that last part about getting the princess treatment. But the timing’s rotten,” she said. “Rob… Rob Howell, that is…”
“He’s your boss, right?”
“Right, sorry,” Julia said. “Anyway, Rob works the graveyard shift at a hotel called the Fairwinds, I think it’s somewhere on Highway 1. He mainly does audits there, but every so often handles the switchboard and reception desk, too, and I guess he’s offered to sub for one of the day clerks for the next couple of weekends — they’re buddies and the guy has a family emergency. Besides, Rob has a newborn and could use the extra money.”
“Which leaves you running the show at the center.”
“All by my lonesome. I wish there was somebody else. Rob’s looking for more help. With his wife busy taking care of the baby, though, I can’t exactly lay too much on her lap.” She paused. “Any chance of us getting together during the week? I’m off Monday and Wednesday, and could meet you at your office for one of those father- daughter lunches where you lecture me about how I need to find an honest paying job.”
“Now there’s what I call a real temptation,” Gordian said. “Unfortunately, I’m out of town from Monday morning until Thursday or Friday. Washington, D.C. You remember Dan Parker?”
Julia smiled. Was it only her parents, or were all of them always asking their adult children whether they could remember people they’d known their entire lives? With her father, the person in question was very often Dan, whom Julia had practically grown up around and even invited to her wedding. Her mom was likewise constantly astounded that she had any recollection of her Uncle Will, who had been one of Julia’s most dearly loved relatives, and was a frequent visitor to the Gordian home until his death from a sudden heart attack when she was eighteen or nineteen years old. What were they thinking? That their kids went through childhood and adolescence with their memory banks set on auto-delete? That they were oblivious to everything around them until they were, oh, say, forty-five, fifty, or so? Or were these supposed to be trick questions?
“Hmm, Dan Parker,” she said, deliberately keeping any trace of sarcasm out of her voice. “He’s that buddy of yours from Vietnam, no? The one who used to be a congressman in San Jose?”
“That’s right, he was at your wedding reception,” Gordian replied, sounding pleased by her name-recognition ability. “These days Dan’s an executive with Sedco, the energy firm, and we’ll be meeting with the rest of its board to negotiate the final points of a fiberoptic deal.”
Julia looked out the window, saw the Wurmans were leading Viv back from the parking lot. “Guess we’d better hold off on making plans till next week,” she said.
“I guess.”
The shop’s front door opened.
“Have to run,” Julia said. “Good luck with your trip, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you, too, honey,” Gordian said. “Oh… and l’chiam, by the way,” he added.
And then hung up.
Julia looked at the phone and blinked in surprise, a grin of colossal amusement breaking across her face.
Parents, she thought.
The wonders truly, truly never did cease.
The same yet different was how Rollie Thibodeau had been trying to characterize the overall facility security picture at UpLink International, and particularly UpLink HQ SanJo, since Ricci’s departure.
The same, more or less, insofar as its requirements and policies.
Different, slightly, insofar as their implementation, with heightened emphasis on incident readiness and management.
There had also been some modifications to the electronic security systems — what amounted to minor tinkering in the area of general surveillance and countersurveillance operations, with more significant enhancements regarding the detection and control of chemical and biological threats.
“Some of it’s these times we’re living in. Everything going on around the world, you got to take extra precautions,” Thibodeau said now, looking across his desk at Ricci. “Plus we been bitten once, you know.”
Ricci sat motionless. When he answered, it was in an odd, clipped tone.
“Tell me about the techware,” he said.
“There’s operational gear big and small, but we’ll start with the onsite basics,” Thibodeau said. “We got new concealed weapon detectors in most of our buildings. And not just at entries. We been thinking about indoor environments. Walk around any floor here and you’ll pass through a hidden magnetic scanner.”
“I’ve noticed them at the hallway corners,” Ricci said. “I can see where some door frames have been replaced.”
“Figured you would,” Thibodeau said. “Later on, I’m gonna walk you down to the monitoring station, show you right where they all are—”
“Don’t bother,” Ricci said. “They’re okay. Most people won’t spot them. The ones who do would be good enough to make any kind of scanners we install. I just want to know how they perform.”
Thibodeau shifted in his chair. He was suddenly conscious of his uniform’s too-snug fit, of the too-tight waistband of his trousers around his middle, of the chair’s armrests pressing into his fleshy sides. If he pulled up his shirt, he would find little irritated patches of red on his flanks, wouldn’t he?
He wondered what it was about Tom Ricci that had set off the heightened sense of his own ungainliness. Or maybe he was just projecting. Ricci hadn’t said or done anything that could be taken as a reaction to his size. But Ricci was also just as whipcord lean as he’d been a year ago. While he himself had put on half a hundred pounds.
Thibodeau remembered the rattle and bang of the scale when he’d stepped off it. He adjusted his position behind the desk again.
“The scanners,” he said. “They’re… how can I say it?… more discriminating. Walkthroughs we had before weren’t no better than what they using at commercial airports. You know the problems with them. Can’t tell the difference between an Uzi and a set of keys or some pocket change. Can’t find where something is on a person’s body. And they be screwed up easy by electrical fields. Too many computers or cell phones working around them, we get false alarms. Waste time and resources. These CWD systems we installed can tell the object’s size and shape, and pinpoint where it’s located. Whether it be under somebody’s left arm, strapped around his ankles, or stuffed where the sun don’t shine.”
Ricci’s head went up and down.
“All right,” he said. “What else is there?”
“Hate to think about it, but we put a whole response system in place for biochemical incidents,” Thibodeau said. “This whole building been outfitted with sensors. Every room. Every office. Rooftop to basement.”
Ricci looked at him.
“Hell,” he said.
“I know,” Thibodeau said. “Cost us a fortune.”
Ricci kept looking steadily at him.
“I wasn’t talking about what it cost,” he said. “I meant this world of ours is fucking hell.”