But hadn’t this all been a crazy week?
The mooring line was as thick as his thigh. Wrapping both arms and legs around it and hanging sloth-like, he launched out over the water and began hauling himself toward the shore.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The Seattle city police car followed the Redmond city police car slowly past the front of Microbotics, then between the main office building and the laboratory block to circle through the employees’ parking area at the rear.
“There, that’s it! There’s the van!” Corfe exclaimed, pointing from the back seat. Garsten’s beige Cadillac was there. So was the black Lincoln. “She’ll be here this time. Now will you believe me?”
“He’s identified the three vehicles,” Des said into the mike that he was holding. “The Dodge van, the Cadillac, and the Lincoln.”
“Okay, let’s check it out,” a voice from the car ahead answered from the speaker.
“We’re right behind you.”
The two cars completed their circuit and halted outside the front entrance to the main building. “You’d better come in with us,” Des told Corfe.
The glass doors were locked, it being a holiday. A young security man in a blue shirt came over from the receptionist’s desk and let them in. The senior of the two Redmond officers asked who, on the premises, was in charge of security.
“Mr. Finnion’s chief of security. He’s here right now.” The young security man reached for a phone. “Can I tell him what it’s about?”
“Andy Finnion? Oh, sure, we know him,” Des said. “Tell Andy it’s Des Olesh from across in the city. We’ve got a guy here who thinks that a missing person might be on the premises. Also, a vehicle that he claims is stolen is parked at the back of this building—gray Dodge van, registration 437 ECH. We just want to straighten it all out.”
“I’ll see if I can get him.”
Seconds ago, Corfe had thought things were about to turn his way at last. Now he was assailed by misgivings again. These people were all on the same side. But there was nothing for it now but to see it through once more. Finnion was not a complete stranger to him either. He had been in charge of security when Corfe worked at Microbotics—although Corfe had never had any occasion to get to know him particularly well.
While the Redmond officers stayed by the desk, the two from Seattle wandered around the lobby area, casually inspecting wall plaques, framed certificates of merit from various trade and engineering institutions, a plan showing the layout of the building. To one side was a glass-topped display case showing some of the company’s products. A section of it was devoted to Microbotics’s line of VR-driven micromecs. Des indicated them and grinned at Corfe. “Are they like the machines that you went into Mr. Garsten’s office as?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.”
Des scowled and turned away with the look of somebody whose joke had fallen flat.
A double door opened at the rear of the lobby area, and Vanessa stepped through, followed a moment later by Finnion. She gave Corfe a cold glance, showing no sign of familiarity at seeing him. His premonition worsened.
“Hi, guys.” Finnion nodded briefly at the policemen, his eyes settling finally on Des. “It’s been a while now, Des. How’s it all going?”
“Oh, up and down. You know, the usual roller coaster,” Des said. Greg moved back to join them.
“Still crankin’ ’em in for those retirement points, eh?”
“Well, we try. What else can you do?”
Finnion indicated Corfe with a raised eyebrow. “So, what have we got?”
“Well, this is Mr. Corfe, who says he worked here at one time. . . .”
Finnion nodded. “Yes, I recognize the face. I was trying to place the name.”
“He’s looking for a somebody by the name of Michelle Lang, and he says he has reason to believe she’s being held here on the premises.”
Impatience clouded Finnion’s face. “Oh hell, not that again. I thought we’d cleared it up. First it was supposed to be Garsten’s office, right? Didn’t my duty supervisor talk to you there about an hour ago—Kyle Welsh? The place was clean. There were no alarms.” Finnion showed both palms. “That’s all we know. What else can I tell you?”