W is for Wasted (Kinsey Millhone 23)

Linton Reed stood with his hands jammed down in the pockets of his dark overcoat, looking out toward the islands, barely visible in the haze. “What’s your proposal?”

“Couple of questions about security measures before I get into it. The lab’s in Southwick Hall, is that correct?”

Linton nodded tersely.

“You have a guard in the lobby?”

Linton focused on him. “I hope you’re not thinking of going into the lab.”

“Just answer my questions and I’ll tell you what I’m thinking when I know what’s up. Guard or no guard?”

“No need for one. Electronic access only. The building and the lab both have swipe-card entry systems. Staff and employees are each assigned an ID badge with a magnetic strip and personal identification number. Every ID has an integrated circuit chip that triggers both locks. You slide the card through a reader and then punch in your code.”

“You use the same swipe card to get out?”

“In this system, yes.”

“What about closed-circuit TV?”

“There was talk of installing cameras but the university doesn’t have the funds. In the end, we decided this is a college campus, not a bank. I’ve seen security stickers on certain doors, but it’s just for show. Lots of signs—No Admittance; Authorized Personnel Only—none of it means anything.”

“How good is the lighting?”

“Campus safety’s a big deal, so there’s good visibility outside, especially along the paths and in the parking lots. Inside, lights are blazing all the time.”

“Lot of people work late?”

“That happens occasionally, but most of us have families. I’ve never seen anybody in the lab after nine. There are people going in and out just about any time of day,” he said. “Now, I’d appreciate an explanation.”

“Fair enough. So here’s the idea. You pick a night when there’s some big shindig going on that you and your wife plan to attend. You go and make sure you’re conspicuous throughout. Cocktails, conversation, dinner. Everybody knows you’re there. Airtight alibi. You have anything like that on the horizon?”

Linton looked off to the left and then said, “Close enough. August 24. That’s a Wednesday night. There’s an advisory board meeting of the local commission on alcohol and drug abuse. Dinner first and then I’ll be closeted for hours with a number of medical types. There’d be no question I was present and accounted for.”

“Sounds good. While you’re tied up, I let myself into the lab using the Bryce woman’s ID and PIN.”

“Her ID? How do you propose to do that?”

“My worry, not yours. I figure if I wear a white lab coat and employee badge, no one will pay me any mind. Make sure I have a map and then I’m just some schmo on the premises like anybody else. I go in, I stay a while, and then I come out. Swipe-card entry systems retain an audit trail of events at the door. Anybody checks on it later, it’s all set in stone—what time she went in, how long she stayed, and when she came out again.”

“Then what. I don’t understand. You go in the lab to do what? You don’t know anything about our work.”

“I don’t have to know. You handle that. Sometime the day before you get on your computer and make changes to your data. Nothing outrageous. You want it to look bad but you don’t want to overplay your hand. Elevate a number here and there, downgrade a few. Tamper, but not too radically. Just enough to suggest someone familiar with your work has been in there poking around.”

“Why would I alter my data when that’s what she’s accusing me of in the first place?”

Pete offered Linton a benign smile. “Morning after this event you go into work and discover your computer’s up and running. You’re confused because when you left Wednesday afternoon you remember shutting it down. It looks like someone’s gotten into your database and you’re worried. You can’t imagine what’s going on so you start checking sensitive documents.”

Linton stared at him. “And discover my data has been sabotaged.”

“That’s exactly right. Someone’s falsified your statistics, inflated the test results, and who knows what else? You go straight to your boss. You’re stunned. You’re white-faced with shock. You have no idea what’s going on, but someone’s undermined your work. You know everything was fine the day before because you started a printout of what you’d done to date. You can even show him pages you printed on both days and point to the discrepancies. Someone wants to make you look bad. If you hadn’t picked up on it, you’d have ended up submitting results that were way off. Doctored, if you’ll forgive the pun.”