The security guys rarely saw Moreno, dealing mainly with their team leaders or the deputy chief, an Anglo called Ron Bailey. Ron had retired from the Tampa police department as a well respected senior officer, but, as with many men, retirement was proving rather expensive and he found the permanent companionship of his wife of thirty years was becoming a bit of a strain. As he could play golf at the club for free, he’d jumped at the chance of a job here, unaware that his presence gave the club an air of respectability.
Ron did the barest minimum, trusting his carefully selected team leaders to keep things on an even keel. His new employers ensured that he hosted working lunches for the senior police officers and other local dignitaries, courtesy of the club, just to keep everyone happy.
As a result, the local police had a few valuable discounts at some of the facilities, particularly during the off-peak times and seasons. The working relationship between the law enforcement officers and the security teams was excellent. In fact, such was the relationship that most of the local Law enforcement officers enjoyed a cut-price membership and so there would always be a good number of officers on the club premises at any one time.
The occasional petty criminal or opportunist who strayed into the parking lots or members’ areas with a view to stealing something, were soon seen on the state-of-the–art CCTV system or discovered by the regular patrols, detained by the security teams and handed into the custody of the local PD officers, who had learned that the coffee and donuts in the club’s security canteen were better than in town.
The one thing that Ryan and Michelle had was that neither could discern anything untoward occurring, obviously, that is.
Ryan had, however, discovered that certain areas were off-limits even to security personnel, and a few of the longer-serving security officers appeared to be able to afford some very expensive automobiles. It was interesting that these all belonged to a team that comprised exclusively of Hispanic personnel. The other strange thing was that these personnel never seemed to work at the same time, nor in the same place as Ryan, so he wondered where they did work.
It was pure chance that both Ryan and Michelle picked up two independent pieces of the jigsaw on the same day.
Michelle, unable to sleep late, was now by habit an early riser. She normally rose at six, went for a two mile run and then worked out for forty minutes before breakfast.
Just as she returned from her run to the gymnasium, she watched as two Hispanic looking men, both wearing security uniforms, exited from a door she had seen but never noticed properly. The door was on a large, curved wall on the outside of the administration and reception building. As she glanced over, she managed to see past the men at what lay on the other side of the door. It was a spacious, but dull, utilitarian lobby with an elevator against the rear wall. The door clicked shut, so she noted that there were no locks, handles or any means of opening the door from the outside. The men, although wearing similar uniforms to Ryan, were not men she recalled seeing before.
Her conclusion was that something was underneath the main complex that was not advertised or available to members. Not unusual, but all other facilities, such as kitchens, laundry, storage and housekeeping were openly displayed for all to see, even if they displayed notices saying STAFF ONLY.
What then could be underneath?
She immediately sent Sean word of what she had seen via her cell phone.
Ryan, on the other hand was on a routine patrol when he was asked to go to town to collect some paperwork from the police department. He drove the security jeep out of the estate and the few miles to the local township. They were regular visitors to the PD, so it was no uncommon sight to see their vehicles parked outside the police station. He collected the papers and spent a few minutes chatting to the officers in the station over a coffee, before returning to his vehicle and heading back.
He put the documents on the dashboard and set off. After leaving the town, the road became slightly uneven, so the papers slipped off the dash onto the floor. Unwilling to see them spread around the car even more, Ryan pulled off the road onto the hard shoulder and retrieved the papers and placed them under his hat on the passenger seat.
He glanced to his left and thought he saw the side of a large rig move slowly behind some trees. He frowned; as he was unaware there was a road off to the right there.
Getting out of the car, he walked across a hundred yards of scrub to the trees. There was a fence running along inside the trees, but a fallen tree breached the fence some twenty paces away. He crossed the fence and walked carefully through the trees and down a bank.
He was just in time to see the truck and trailer pass through a gate into the rear compound of a large warehouse facility. Ryan knew of the facility, as the main road passed the front a mile or so further on. Indeed, trucks and trailers entered and exited through the main gate all the time, so what was this one truck doing entering the rear like this?
Deciding to get a closer look, he climbed down the embankment. He was about to follow the truck, when he noticed a CCTV camera in the trees some fifty yards in front of him, facing the roadway, not towards where he stood. If he moved, however, he would be in the frame, literally. Looking around, he saw three more cameras, so wisely decided to leave.
Once back in his car, he contacted Sean and informed him of what he had seen.
“Why don’t you check the front, and see if there’s a good reason for trucks to use the rear entrance?” Sean told him.
Driving up to the security gate, Ryan opened his window as the security guard approached.
“Hi, I’m from the country club just over yonder. I was wondering if you’ve seen a yellow SUV with a couple of guys cruising around. We think they might be looking to attempt some auto crime, either steal a car or steal from one.”
Security guards take their jobs seriously, so this one listened to Ryan’s fabricated story, even making a few notes.
“Any chance I can just drive round, just in case the vehicle is in a parking lot?”
“It’s not in here, man,” the guard said. “I’d have seen it.”
“How about the track through the woods, you know where the trucks go?” Ryan asked, as nonchalantly as he could.
“No way, they’re even tighter than we are here. Nothing could get in there, man.”
“Okay, thanks for your help. If you see the SUV, give the local PD a call with the licence plate, okay?”
“I’ll be sure to.”
There was a knock-on effect of Ryan’s visit. The security company at the depot was not connected to either the country club or the unseen organisation. However, both area’s CCTV cameras were monitored by the underground security team, headed by Manolo in the bunker.
Ryan’s short visit was seen, but not heard by the CCTV camera in the security booth. It took one phone call to the security guard to ascertain why Ryan was there. Checks with all the security staff on duty at all locations found no mention of a yellow SUV. Warning bells starting ringing in Manolo’s mind.
Ricardo was told of the minor incident. He was sufficiently paranoid to check. Ryan’s reasons for leaving Buffalo PD were easily verifiable, which came as a relief. However, his presence in Florida was questionable. It took some serious legwork, with a copy of Ryan’s photograph to come up with anything.
One of those detained on the island wasn’t sure, but thought he recognised Ryan as being on the island.