Crush - Alan Jacobson [139]
Mayfield had already scoped out the women’s lockers during a slow time when almost no one was in the gym. He was thus familiar with the layout, and, as it was, he would enter and hang an immediate left, which would take him to the steam room. Veering right would instead take him to the locker area.
He wished he’d had time to watch the door, so he could know how many women were in there. But because of the room’s layout, he’d be able to enter and turn toward the stream room without being seen by others in the vicinity. That’s where he would go first.
Seconds ticking. Pulse pounding.
Mayfield pushed through the locker room door slowly, his head down. He moved in, turned left, all the while listening. The echoing sizzle of a shower in the distance. Eyes scanning the floor around him, looking for feet—for trouble.
He strode purposely down the narrow corridor, his shoes squeaking against the wet cement floor. There it was—on his left—the glass door to the steam room. It was opaque, the view impeded by thick vapor. He pushed in. The loud hissing of the jets and dense steam deadened all noise.
The odor of eucalyptus oil stung his nose. He hated that smell. It made his throat close down.
He stood there a second, his eyes darting around, looking for a body. There—sitting on the top step—was Roxxann Dixon. He moved forward, the swirl of steam moving aside as he approached, fearful of his presence. Like she should be—would be—in a matter of seconds.
FIFTY
Brix was looking at a database onscreen with Agbayani when an instant message came through:
I told my boss what you needed and he let me leave early. still in the executive briefing center. you ready to login with roundtable?
Agbayani typed back:
you bet. give me a sec.
“Hey,” Brix said. “We’ve got Microsoft online. Have a seat and Eddie will link us all in.”
Mann, Gordon, Brix, and Lugo took their chairs while Agbayani opened Office Live Meeting and got RoundTable online.
All of the task force members appeared on the large, wall-mounted flat screen. The 360-degree panoramic camera and associated software knitted them together into a virtually seamless image.
“Cool stuff,” Lugo said.
“We’re on,” Agbayani said. “Everyone, meet Tomás Palmer, Senior Security Program Manager at Microsoft.” Agbayani made introductions of the task force members. “The way RoundTable works is that you’re all on camera in the video panorama at the bottom of the screen. Whoever is speaking loudest will appear in a close-up at the top left.” He turned back to Microsoft’s RoundTable device, a small circular unit about the size of a dollar bill, with a central telescoping extension that contained the camera. “Tomás, it’s all yours.”
“I’ve got some pretty cool technology here, so I may as well use it to show you what I’ve got so far on your document.”
“Sounds to me like an excuse to play with the new toys,” Agbayani said.
Tomás smiled. “You know it.” He sat at the far end of a long, empty conference table. Behind him was a flat panel that nearly filled the wall. “I’ve got a monitor in front of me. I’m seeing what you’re seeing on the large screen behind me.” Images popped up; Tomás flicked them aside with his fingers.
“Whoa,” Brix said, staring at the screen. “What is that?”
“Surface technology. C’mon, Eddie, you haven’t told them about Surface?”
“Another time. The documents—”
“It’s okay, bro. I can multitask. Surface is a PC that’s embedded in a tabletop with Microsoft’s touch interface. There’s no keyboard or mouse. You move things across the screen with your hands and fingers. Like the technology Hollywood envisioned in the movie, Minority Report.” He swiped his hand across the monitor. Icons whisked by and spun across the screen. He spread his fingers apart and the image in front of him instantly enlarged. “Okay, here’s the document you sent me.”
“This is the