Page 5 of Duty Compromised
“Corporate standard. Enough to keep out casual troublemakers, not enough to stop anyone determined.”
The lab itself was on the third floor, behind another set of keycard doors. We didn’t go in—no point contaminating their clean room environment, especially with Jolly shedding everywhere. But through the reinforced glass, I could see people in lab coats moving around expensive-looking equipment.
We headed farther down the hallway and saw a door leading to separate stairs marked Rooftop Garden.
“Check it out?” Ben suggested.
“Sure.”
The rooftop had been turned into some kind of wannabe urban garden—planters with flowers, a few benches, even a pint-sized greenhouse squatting in one corner. And two security guards on a smoke break.
The younger one spotted Jolly first and tensed. “Hey—no dogs allowed up here. No dogs in the building at all.”
“Service dog,” I said easily, flashing my most disarming smile.
“What kind of service dog?”
“He’s trained to detect bullshit.”
Ben made a strangled noise that could’ve been a cough…or a laugh he was trying not to choke on.
The younger guard blinked, not quite catching on, but the older one—mid-fifties, grizzled, ex-military written all over him—straightened and snuffed his cigarette like it was personal.
“You the guy the FBI sent?” His voice could’ve given frostbite.
“Yeah. Ty Hughes.” I offered my hand. He didn’t take it. “Just familiarizing myself with the layout.”
“Raymond Wilmington. Head of security.” He said it like he was announcing a title fight. “Already told Alex Richards we don’t need outside help. My team can handle this building just fine.”
I kept my face neutral, professional. This wasn’t my first rodeo with territorial security personnel. “I’m sure you can. I’m just here as an extra layer for a couple weeks. Not here to step on toes.”
Raymond’s jaw worked like he was grinding gravel. “FBI thinks we’re mall cops who can’t handle real security.”
Ben shifted subtly, putting himself in a better spot if this went south. “If it helps, I think mall cops are underrated.” Jolly’s ears pricked at the tension, but he stayed quiet.
“Look,” I told Raymond, “I get it. Nobody likes outsiders coming into their house. But we’re all on the same team. I’m not here to make you look bad. Honestly, I’m probably going to be bored out of my mind for the next two weeks.”
The younger guard had backed up a step, clearly not wanting any part of this pissing contest. Smart kid.
Raymond finally yanked a keycard from his pocket and tossed it at me. “Gets you into the common areas and the lab’s outer reception. Anything else, you go through me. And keep that mutt out of the clean zones.”
Jolly was too well trained to growl. I wasn’t.
“Something this important belongs—” I made a show of riffling through my wallet “—right between my Social Security card and my Imo’s Pizza loyalty punch card.”
Raymond snorted and stalked off. The younger guard trailed after him.
Ben shook his head. “You and Mr. Sunshine there really hit it off.”
“I know. And I’ve been looking for that punch card for ten purchases now. Should be due a free pizza.”
“Free pizza’s a noble cause.” Ben checked his watch. “Speaking of noble causes, Jolly and I should leave before you try to make more friends. And so we can catch our flight.”
We headed for the lobby without mentioning the obvious—Raymond Wilmington was going to be a problem. Not necessarily dangerous, but the kind of guy who’d rather eat broken glass than admit he needed help.
At the garage, Ben loaded Jolly into the rideshare. “Watch your back, brother. I know you think this’ll be easy, but?—”
“I know. Nothing’s ever as simple as it looks.”
