The Tower Read Free Page A

those stupid little clumps of hair just below his bottom lip. They stopped talking when Troy came in, and introduced themselves. Peter Bazzi was the shift manager for Tryon, the company that protected The Tower. Sean Randall was security manager for Warton Constructions.
    â€˜I just arrived,’ he said with an Irish accent, coming over and clasping Troy’s hand. ‘Peter here called me at home. It’s a terrible thing that’s happened. Of course we’ll give you our full cooperation.’
    You will, Troy thought, as he wrote their names in his notebook.
    He said, ‘What were you arguing about just now?’
    â€˜It’s your colleague. Peter let him go up unaccompanied. It’s not company policy—we have liability issues.’
    Troy looked at him more closely. Despite the annoyance the guy was showing, he had amiable eyes. Troy figured that, unlike many security managers, he was not ex-police.
    â€˜Do we know who the woman was?’
    Randall’s smile faded and he looked away from Troy.
    Bazzi said, ‘There’s no record of a woman coming onto the site tonight.’
    â€˜I’ll take that as a no?’
    The guard looked anxious, almost distressed. He shrugged. ‘At the moment we just don’t know what’s happened.’
    No wonder the two men had been yelling at each other.
    Troy looked out the window and saw the inspector still standing in the middle of the atrium, briefing another group of police. The search operation had been organised with impressive speed, especially for a Sunday night. He turned back to the various computer consoles. ‘So where’s Sergeant McIver?’
    â€˜There are two search groups up there,’ Randall explained. ‘One moving up the building and the other coming down from level forty, which is the highest point where she could have come off. Your sergeant said he was going to join the upper sweep, which had just reached level thirty-five. So Peter sends him up with one of our guards—you need a pass to operate the lift. But your sergeant tells the guard to stop at level thirty. The man protests but in the end does what he’s told. McIver gets off and the guard comes back. This is making us nervous.’
    Dealing with McIver tended to have that effect on people, Troy thought.
    â€˜If there is a killer up there,’ Bazzi said, ‘they could meet.’
    That might be the killer’s problem. McIver was armed and dangerous and under the infl uence. But he should be up there too, watching the sergeant’s back.
    â€˜How long’s he been gone?’
    â€˜Almost ten minutes now. I was just going to have a word with Inspector Harmer.’
    Not a good idea, Troy thought. He said, ‘I’ll go up and get him back. Would that make you happier?’
    Bazzi shook his head, but Randall looked at his watch. ‘I’ll come with you. You’ll need someone to work the lift.’
    Troy nodded. Despite the flavour-saver, the guy looked capable enough. Also, he didn’t seem the type to make a fuss. Depending on the state they found McIver in, that could be important.
    They clattered down the steel stairway and walked across the concrete floor towards the lifts—though only the two goods lifts were in use, according to Randall.
    Troy said, ‘Do you need a pass for the stairwells?’
    It turned out that you didn’t; in fact at the moment you didn’t need a pass to get from a stairwell onto any of the floors. Randall went into a little speech about how security had to be a compromise between ideal standards and the requirements of construction. Troy found himself paying attention, despite the irrelevance of most of this. Randall was a natural talker, and it wasn’t just the accent. He told Troy there were CCTV cameras trained on the lifts and the stair exits on the ground floor, which was how they knew the killer hadn’t come down that way. ‘If there is a