Paul hurried ahead, taking in his surroundings. First he saw the receptionist’s desk with a night nurse reading a novel. Next he spotted the waiting area with a few men sitting reading magazines.
Catching sight of some movement through a glass panel to his right, Paul slowed his steps. He found himself looking into a security office. Inside, he saw the Asian man he’d been following talking to a uniformed guard.
“Can I help you?” the woman at the desk asked. She’d lowered her book and was looking at Paul over the top of her glasses.
Paul walked over to the desk. He absently fingered a small metal tin of paper clips, trying to think of the best ruse to a opt.
“Has Mrs. Abrums come in yet?” he asked.
“I don’t believe so,” the woman said. She scanned the sheet on the clipboard before her.
“No, she hasn’t.”
“Guess I’ll have to wait then,” Paul said, He glanced back toward the glass-fronted security office. The Asian and the uniformed guard were facing forward and seemed to be conferring over something below the window.
Trying not to be too obvious, Paul took a stroll around the waiting area, feigning impatience by alternately looking out the front window and then at his watch.
After the woman had gone back to reading her book, Paul wandered into the same corridor the Asian had entered. About ten feet down was the entrance to the security office. The door was ajar. Spotting a drinking fountain at the end of the corridor, Paul walked briskly to it. After a drink, he sauntered back toward the waiting area, pausing at the security office’s open door on his way.
The two men had not moved from the window. Paul could see that they were watching a bank of TV monitors mounted below the sill. Paul tried to overhear what they were saying, but it was impossible; they were speaking another language. He assumed it was Chinese, but he was no expert. The other detail that caught his eye was that the guard was armed with a.357 Magnum, an unusual piece for hospital security. As a retired police officer, it all seemed odd to Paul, very odd indeed.
“Cripes! They’re locked!” Wendy said after trying the fire doors barring the way to the clinic’s main building. They had crossed over the street in the glass-enclosed walkway, thinking they were home free until they encountered this final barrier.
“This place is shut up like Fort Knox,” Marissa said.
“Damn!”
“I don’t have any other ideas,” Wendy said.
“What about you?”
“I think we’ve given it our best shot,” Marissa said.
“I guess we’ll just have to try our ruse in the daytime when the clinic is open.”
Turning back, the two women hurried over the walkway. They didn’t want to be seen from the street. But before they got to the overnight clinic side, Wendy stopped.
“Wait a sec,” she said.
“This seems to be the only connection between the two buildings.”
“So what?” Marissa said.
“Where are the pipes for water and heat and electricity?”
Wendy asked.
“They can’t have built separate power sources for both buildings. It would be too impractical.”
“You’re right!” Marissa said.
“Let’s try the stairwell again.”
Returning to the stairs, the women descended to the basement level and cracked the door. The corridor beyond was poorly illuminated, and as far as they could tell, deserted. They listened for a few moments but heard no noises. Entering cautiously, they began to explore.
Most of the doors off the main corridor on the side facing the main building were locked. The open ones turned out to be storage areas. Eventually, to their encouragement, the corridor itself turned in the direction of the main building.
Advancing to the corner, they cautiously peered around, then abruptly pulled back. Someone was coming toward them. Almost at the same moment they began to hear the sound of approaching footsteps as they echoed in the narrow hallway.
Panicking, Marissa and Wendy ran back toward the elevators.
There wasn’t much time. The footfalls were getting louder. Frantically, they began trying the doors along the way, hoping to find one that wasn’t locked.