Michael

seven

Michael Thane lived in what had once been an abbey enclave for a closed order of monks. The architecture was early medieval, differing from a traditional monastery in that everything was contained within one multilevel construction. At the centre was a large cloister complete with lawns and willow trees. The monks were long gone and the security used to protect the premises was both staggeringly sophisticated and, according to the Electronics/Artificial Intelligence Division, custom built. Thane had not made it easy for them to get inside.

Cabrera stood with his hands clasped behind his back in the entrance hall. Lamps had been lit to dispel the predawn gloom. Tapestries hung on stone walls, and rugs roughly the size of his apartment were laid on the stone floor. He turned when he heard footsteps and looked into the earnest young face of the senior technician. Painfully tight jeans, a pale under-shirt and a paper-thin cardigan did little to give the man any much needed bulk. Cabrera suppressed a sigh at the glowing enthusiasm visible under the fluffy stubble. E-AID Techs always made him feel old.

"Sir, we managed to locate the building's energy-grid, and powered-down. Unfortunately, the action has triggered yet another layer of additional security. I've never seen anything like this: the owner must be seriously rich. Plus, he knows his equipment. You should see the set-up, sir. Most of the equipment has been modified way beyond the initial manufacturing specifications." He was practically dancing in his top-brand sneakers.

"Are you telling me that in two hours you've made no progress?" asked Cabrera, before the kid could get any more rapturous, or start drooling over computer chips and frickin' conduits.

The kid blinked, the fanatical light in his eyes dulling. "Uhm, yeah! Sorry, sir!"

"Do you understand what rests on this, Mr Miggs?" Cabrera asked him. "A life. I have a missing member of my team, one whom I intend to find. To do so, there are several things I need: I need unrestricted access to every room, I need access to communications and computer records, I need some way of identifying possible locations where she might be held, as well as all possible means of tracing her whereabouts if she and Thane are on the move, and I need all of these things now!"

Migg's Adam's apple bobbed at the Chief Constable's tone and expression. "I understand, sir, absolutely." He nodded. "We're doing our very best, sir."

"Do better." Cabrera dismissed him by turning and walking away. He met Ruth Burgess at the bottom of the wide, carved staircase. It was hard to miss her in a canary-yellow tunic and baggy orange pants. When she'd walked into his office he'd been reminded of a genie. All that was missing was a turban to cover shoulder-length bobbed hair dyed an eye-catching red.

"No luck reversing the lockdown?" she asked him, stepping off the last stair.

Cabrera shook his head, allowing his frustration to show. "The son of a bitch spared no expense on his security doors. We can't break his codes to get in, or break though without blowing the whole place sky-high." He scrubbed a hand over his nape and sighed. "I've got them concentrating on the codes."

"Maybe they'll find something in the rooms we do have access to," Ruth offered.

"I admire your optimism, but don't you think if they contained anything important, he'd have sealed them along with the others? Besides, this place is a damned maze."

"It is that." She stopped in the hall to turn in a slow, admiring circle. "It's also intriguing. Not only is it vast, it's fully furnished as far as I can see. Whoever decorated this house spent a lot of time and effort in acquiring furniture and art from a wide variety of time periods and influences. I've been wandering around for the last two hours and I haven't found an empty room. It's almost sad."