Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

randomly. It’s a way to cover a lot of ground without having to buy millions of bucks worth of monitoring, computer, and data-storage equipment. Since it’s all digitized, we can enhance by extrapolation, so the cameras don’t have to have expensive, fancy lenses to zero in on areas of interest.”
    “How much coverage?” Ian asked.
    “About ninety percent of the lobby over a one-minute period. More than the average hotel requires. And there’s our man.” Rory pointed to one of the screens. “Freeze it and tell the computer to follow him.”
    A fine sweat showed on Gateman’s lip as he worked over the keyboard, circling the bellman and cart with the cursor, instructing the computer to extrapolate what those items would look like from various angles, and finding matches in the camera records for other areas of the hotel in the ensuing minutes. He’d spent a month learning this security system backward and forward, but this was like a final exam. He fumbled, backed up, cursed, and entered the correct sequence of commands.
    The bellman and cart moved in a series of jerks and stomach-swooping changes of viewing angles.
    Gateman almost groaned when the cart vanished through the door marked EMPLOYEES
    “Cut to the valet lot, same time,” Rory said. “If we don’t find him there, we can always back up.”
    Gateman went back to sweating over the keyboard.
    An underground parking lot appeared. The view didn’t divide into six, but it did click around the lot like a fast slide show.
    “Got him,” Ian said.
    “When he gets to his vehicle, do it in quarter time,” Rory said.
    “Bastard knows where the cameras are,” Ian said.
    Rory didn’t answer. He didn’t have to—the evidence was in front of him.
    The room was silent as the bellman went to a white van, unloaded the paintings, pushed the cart aside, and got in back. When he reappeared in the cab, he was wearing coveralls, a cowboy hat, and a beard.
    “This one’s really cute,” Ian muttered.
    The last shot was at the hotel gate, where the van turned right onto Pacific Coast Highway and headed south.
    “Now what?” Lacey asked.
    Ian looked at her with dark, angry eyes. “Now the sheriff runs the van’s temporary plate, finds it’s a yo-yo; runs the stick-on business sign on the side of the van, finds it’s a yo-yo; then thinks about running the white van and decides to call the California Highway Patrol instead, because sure as shit one of those guys will tag the van as an abandoned vehicle somewhere between here and the Mexican border.”
    Rory gave Ian a long look. “You a cop?”
    “Not anymore, as I’m sure you’ll find out when you run me through your computers. You’ll get a buttload of hits and not a one of them will help you solve this robbery, and you’ll do it anyway.”
    “I sure will. You’re a pro. You know security systems. You piss me off. That puts you number one on my hit list.”
    “What about your security staff and the hotel staff?” Ian said coolly. “You know, the folks who’d have access to the magic-key machine.”
    “They’re tied for second.”

Savoy Hotel
    Friday night
37
    A fter the first reporter’s call, Ian told the hotel desk to stop connecting outside calls unless it was Sheriff Turner himself. The last thing Susa needed to deal with were newshounds baying at the heels of a celebrity story. Tell me, World Famous Artist, how does it feel to have a million dollars in irreplaceable paintings stolen from your room? Do you feel angry? Violated? Better yet, Will you cry during the interview? Spill your guts for the bored public? Get the reporter a promotion? Separate ads with juicy sound bites? Give us sensation disguised as the public’s right to know?
    About ten minutes after Ian hung up on the hotel desk, room service brought a lovely meal, compliments of the hotel. The food might as well have been dog chow for all the attention it got. Susa took a polite bite of everything, drank half a glass of the fine wine, and went to a comfortable chair where she sat staring at nothing. Sadness came off her in waves that were almost tangible. Every time Lacey looked at her, she wanted to cry.
    If Ian noticed, he didn’t let it get in his way. He addressed dinner withthe speed and precision of a machine taking on fuel. “Eat,” he said to Lacey between bites. “You’ll need it.”
    Lacey ate what she could and pushed the plate away. She wanted to comfort Susa but didn’t know how, because she knew only