The Mag-Lev monorail was fast, certainly, and Gwen’s car was currently sitting in the police garage waiting for their technician to come on duty in the morning, but the situation was just too alien. Gwen seemed to consider it par for the course though, as she’d appropriated one of the Mag-Lev cars for them alone and now sat carefully checking her service pistol as the car cut through the night air toward their destination.
Gwen’s hands worked over the Sig-Saur pistol carefully, checking the mechanism with professional thoroughness, though Anselm thought he detected a certain hesitancy to her actions. He couldn’t fault the motions, but there was something lacking in the execution.
He didn’t check his own Fifty-Seventy, he’d cleaned and prepared it earlier in the morning while waiting for the plane to take him out to the project. His backup piece was in perfect working order as well, and he knew that both would operate as needed, when he called upon them.
“You okay” He asked finally, watching as she missed sliding one of the pins back into the weapon and had to try again.
“I’m fine,” she replied tersely.
He just looked at her for a moment, until she sighed.
“Sorry. I’m just not used to needing this.” She said, nodding to the Sig.
Anselm nodded, understanding. From what she’d told him the crime rate, and breakdown of violations, around the tower weren’t nearly what one might expect to need a weapon for. It seemed to be more like a large town than a city, and as such a cop was more often a mediator than an enforcer.
“Relax,” he told her. “Chances are he won’t resist.”
She nodded jerkily, taking a breath.
“We’ll just knock on the door and see if he’s home.” Anselm went on, talking out the operation in advance so that it would imprint itself on her mind. “If we have to do an entry, I’ll lead. You just cover my back, alright”
She nodded again, this time a little more relaxed.
“Alright then,” he smiled. “Now you’d better finish assembling your gun. I think we’re almost there, if I’m reading this display right.”
Gwen’s gaze jerked over to the display that showed their Mag-Lev car’s location, as well as their destination, and nodded quickly as he returned her attention to the partially assembled pistol in front of her.
Anselm watched, satisfied as she moved with a little more certainty this time. If it turned into an entry, though, he might have to consider lone-wolfing it, unless she could call in some more backup. He’d have to make up his mind on site, depending on how she got as the time approached.
Luckily the odds were heavily against it coming to anything like that.
Mr. Kamir’s home wasn’t of the fine quality of the last place Gwen had taken him, Anselm noted with some amusement. It wasn’t a hovel either, of course. Hovels didn’t exist around the Project, the place was far too recent for that sort of thing. What it was, was a fairly contemporary looking structure that certainly didn’t fit the image one conjured up, when one thought of a trouble-making, extreme sports fanatic.
Anselm glanced over his shoulder to where Gwen was talking softly into her portable, and paused as he waited for her to finish.
Finally she nodded and closed the device, then walked up towards him.
“Get it”
She nodded, “Judge Billings signed off on an entry warrant based on the evidence from your scans, as well as what the Interpol computers coughed up.”
Anselm nodded, the facial topography scan had come in just after they’d stepped off the Mag-Lev, revealing that Mr. Kamir was actually Mr. Nahime, an Ethiopian national with a record of computer crime and ties to some terrorist cells. Yet another Arab who wasn’t even remotely Arabic.
That was a pattern forming as far as Anselm was concerned, though he wasn’t certain he understood it completely yet.
It would have to wait at any rate, as the two officers began to make their way up to the home of their suspect. The stopped at the door, leaning slightly away from the center of the door as Gwen hit the door buzzer and also rapped sharply on the tough material.
“Mr. Kamir!” She yelled. “Are you home”
They both listened intently, trying to discern any sound that might be their man getting up, moving around, or bolting for that matter.
Nothing.
It was dead quiet.
Gwen rapped again, “Mr. Kamir!”
Still nothing.
They exchanged glances and Anselm nodded to Gwen’s unspoken query, so she took it up a step. “Mr. Kamir, Tower City Police!”
“Do it,” Anselm whispered.
She nodded, flipping her portable open in her left hand while she fisted her pistol in her right. She held the pocket computer near the electronic lock, and keyed in the override code that had come with the electronic warrant writ. It buzzed in response, but refused to open.
Gwen frowned, keying in the code a second time.
Same response.
“Damn it,” she muttered. “He must have jacked the lock code.”
Anselm nodded, withdrawing his own portable. When electronic locks first became de rigeur there had been a public resistance to the idea of the judicial system holding the override keys to open doors. Logically it was no threat to privacy since a court order was required to make use of a writ, and frankly it was much less invasive to have your lock admit a police officer than it was to have them ram a section of steel pipe through the door.
Still, the result of the resistance was a great of deal of bootleg aftermarket work that could scramble your locking code to prevent the police computers from opening it. It wasn’t illegal, as such, though the work did void the lock warranty and general rendered your home insurance policy null and void.
He keyed in an access code of his own, and waited a few second as his portable blinked silently.
The electronic lock buzzed three times before it finally gave in and popped open.
Gwen shot him a curious look, and Anselm just shrugged. “Interpol keeps a Beowulf Cluster in Norway that’s dedicated to cracking lock codes.”
She shook her head slightly, shifting her grip on her Sig, but didn’t say anything as Anselm hefted his own Five-seven Magnum and pushed the door open.
“Stay close,” he whispered. “Don’t point the gun at me, and keep your eyes open.”
She scowled at him, probably for the gun crack Anselm figured, but nodded.
He brought his pistol up in a weaver grip and used the edge of his arm to shove the door open as he pivoted through the door, “Police! We have a Warrant!”
“Nothing.” Anselm sighed, shaking his head a few minutes later as they stood in the middle of a room that looked like a tornado had struck it.
His first impression was that someone had searched the place, quickly and clumsily.
The dirty clothing and underwear scattered around the floor had changed his mind though.
Mr. Kamir, or Nahime, or whatever was a slob.
Gwen grimaced in distaste as she lifted a sweaty shirt from a computer’s keyless interface and looked at the screen.
“Locked out,” she announced a moment later.
Anselm eyed the system, frowning.
“Can your Interpol computers do something with this”
He shook his head, “Not from here. This system is a lot more complicated than a locking mechanism. He’ll probably have it heavily encrypted. We’ll have to take it out of here, rip the system apart at the station, and mirror the storage drives to the Central Network. We have guys who can crack it, given some time.”
She nodded, “alright. The Warrant covers it, so I’ll call in a wagon and a couple part time deputies to clean this place out.”