Gideon's Sword by Douglas Preston Page B

know if you can do this or not, and I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble—but it would mean so much to his widow if she could have that medallion back. To, you know, put in the casket and bury it with her husband. It would give her such comfort to be able to do that…” His voice cracked. “Excuse me,” he said, fumbling out a kerchief he had bought for that purpose, blowing his nose.
    The officer shifted uncomfortably. “I understand what you’re saying. I feel for her and her kids, I really do. But here’s the thing.”
    Gideon waited patiently.
    “Here’s the thing,” the cop repeated uneasily, seeking a way to say it. “The wrecked car is evidence in a homicide investigation. It’s locked up right now, nobody can even get to it.”
    “Locked up?”
    “Yeah. Inside an evidence cage in there.” He jerked a thumb toward the warehouse.
    “But surely someone could just go in there and get the medallion off the mirror? That’s not evidence.”
    “I understand. I really do. But that taxicab’s totally locked up. It’s in a chain-link cage, with a chain-link roof over it and everything. And the warehouse itself is locked and alarmed. You’ve got to understand, chain of custody for evidence is crucial in a case like this. The cab is evidence: there are scratches on it, paint from the other vehicle, evidence of ramming. This is a major homicide case—seven people died in that accident and others were badly injured. And they’re still looking for the scumbag who did it. Nobody can get in there except authorized personnel, and even then only by filling out forms and going through red tape. And everything they do to the car has to be videotaped. It’s for a good reason, to help us catch those responsible and make sure they’re convicted.”
    Gideon’s face fell. “I see. That’s too bad, it would mean so much.” He looked up, brightening, as with a new idea. “Tony won’t be buried for a week or two, at least. Will it be locked up very long?”
    “The way these things work, that cab will be locked up until the guys are caught, there’s a trial, maybe an appeal…It could be years. I wish it wasn’t like that.” The officer spread his hands. “Years.”
    “What am I going to tell my sister? You say the warehouse is alarmed?”
    “Alarmed and guarded, twenty-four seven. And even if you could get in there, as I said, the vehicle’s locked inside an evidence cage way in the back and not even the guard has a key.”
    Gideon rubbed his chin. “Chain-link cage?”
    “Yeah, sort of like those cages they use in Guantánamo.”
    “The cage is also alarmed?”
    “No.”
    “How’s the warehouse alarmed?”
    “Doors and windows.”
    “Motion sensors? Lasers?”
    “Nah, there’s a guard who makes his rounds every half hour in there. I think it’s just the doors and windows that have alarms.”
    “Video cameras?”
    “Yeah, they’re all over. The whole area’s covered.” He paused, his face becoming serious. “Don’t even think about it.”
    Gideon shook his head. “You’re right. What the hell am I thinking?”
    “Be patient. Eventually you’ll get that medallion back, and maybe by then you’ll have the satisfaction of seeing the perp doing twenty-five to life at Rikers Island.”
    “I hope they fry the bastard.”
    The cop reached out and laid a hammy hand on Gideon’s. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
    Gideon nodded quickly, pressed the cop’s hand, and walked off. When he reached the end of the block, he turned and looked back. He could see, under the eaves of the warehouse’s corners, a cluster of surveillance cameras providing full coverage of the outdoor area. He counted them: twelve from this vantage point alone. There would be many more on the other side of the building and an equal number within.
    He turned and pondered what he’d learned. The fact was, most of what people called security systems were pastiches, just a lot of expensive electronic shit slapped up