the worst offenders it would be hypocritical in the extreme. Provided that the work is done, employees have as much latitude as is practical in how and when."
"How much of the interior of the building is covered by cameras?" A question Barret-Connor would be discussing in detail with the head of security, but an idea would be helpful.
"Reception," Warrick said, and then stopped.
"And?"
"That's it. Reception. It's corporate policy. Elsewhere we have security logs which record entry and exit of people from secure areas and use of equipment, but no visual surveillance."
Toreth couldn't keep the dismay from his face, and Warrick smiled slightly. "Unfortunate, from your point of view, I realise. However, security of that kind is a risk in itself — a greater risk than not having it, in our view. It's an easily transportable and saleable record of what goes on here. An open invitation to corporate espionage. We prefer to trust our staff, rather than spy on them."
Toreth would have preferred a little of the more normal corporate paranoia. He'd visited places that insisted on ID chip implants for their employees and monitored every inch of the buildings, right down to the toilets. "What about protecting the equipment?"
"Access to all areas of the building is controlled by security doors. ID cards are the baseline security. More authentication is required in some areas. All equipment is tagged — any attempt to take it out of the building will trigger the sensors you may have noticed on the way in."
Which meant no helpful footage of Kelly dying in the sim — or of any hypothetical murderer. "Kelly's body was found on a sim couch, with the straps and visor in place. No obvious cause of death."
Warrick looked at him for a moment, uncomprehending, before a flash of emotion passed across his face. Before Toreth could decipher it, a stony mask replaced it.
"You think the sim killed her?" Warrick asked.
"It's a possibility."
"No, it isn't." If certainty were euros, Warrick could have underwritten the Central Bank with those three words.
"You might have wondered why I&I is here, investigating the death of a girl like Jarvis," Toreth said.
"Not worthy of your attention, you mean?" The corner of Warrick's mouth lifted." The thought had occurred."
Toreth didn't miss the sour edge, but he ignored it. "We're here because of a possible connection to the death of Jon Teffera."
Warrick sat up. "
Jon
? What on earth does — ah. "He leaned back slowly. "I see."
"Jon Teffera — "
"Also died in his sim couch. Yes. I heard the details. In fact, I attended his funeral, as a representative of SimTech and as a personal friend." Warrick leaned forwards, speaking slowly and clearly. "Para-investigator, the sim had nothing to do with either death."
Toreth looked at him curiously, trying to see even the faintest tinge of doubt on his face, and found nothing.
"Thank you for your opinion," Toreth said. "However, I'm going to need access to data about the sim, to records of use by both Teffera and Jarvis. All the safety trials, and so on."
For a moment, he thought Warrick would repeat his denial of the possibility. In the end, he merely nodded. "Of course. Anything you require, naturally. If you want the very oldest pre-SimTech data, you'll have to apply to the appropriate Administration research division. However, you'll be wasting your time — you won't find anything."
"I'm afraid I'll have to look anyway. And I must ask you not to discuss the details of this conversation with anyone else, inside or outside SimTech, until the initial interviews are finished — particularly the circumstances of Jarvis's death."
Warrick nodded, although a wry smile suggested he had been thinking about that very thing. "You have my word."
"One more thing I'd like to know. Where were you on the evening of the twenty-seventh of September?
"Let me check." Warrick consulted his screen, and then nodded. "At what time?"
"The whole evening, please."
"Very
"How much of the interior of the building is covered by cameras?" A question Barret-Connor would be discussing in detail with the head of security, but an idea would be helpful.
"Reception," Warrick said, and then stopped.
"And?"
"That's it. Reception. It's corporate policy. Elsewhere we have security logs which record entry and exit of people from secure areas and use of equipment, but no visual surveillance."
Toreth couldn't keep the dismay from his face, and Warrick smiled slightly. "Unfortunate, from your point of view, I realise. However, security of that kind is a risk in itself — a greater risk than not having it, in our view. It's an easily transportable and saleable record of what goes on here. An open invitation to corporate espionage. We prefer to trust our staff, rather than spy on them."
Toreth would have preferred a little of the more normal corporate paranoia. He'd visited places that insisted on ID chip implants for their employees and monitored every inch of the buildings, right down to the toilets. "What about protecting the equipment?"
"Access to all areas of the building is controlled by security doors. ID cards are the baseline security. More authentication is required in some areas. All equipment is tagged — any attempt to take it out of the building will trigger the sensors you may have noticed on the way in."
Which meant no helpful footage of Kelly dying in the sim — or of any hypothetical murderer. "Kelly's body was found on a sim couch, with the straps and visor in place. No obvious cause of death."
Warrick looked at him for a moment, uncomprehending, before a flash of emotion passed across his face. Before Toreth could decipher it, a stony mask replaced it.
"You think the sim killed her?" Warrick asked.
"It's a possibility."
"No, it isn't." If certainty were euros, Warrick could have underwritten the Central Bank with those three words.
"You might have wondered why I&I is here, investigating the death of a girl like Jarvis," Toreth said.
"Not worthy of your attention, you mean?" The corner of Warrick's mouth lifted." The thought had occurred."
Toreth didn't miss the sour edge, but he ignored it. "We're here because of a possible connection to the death of Jon Teffera."
Warrick sat up. "
Jon
? What on earth does — ah. "He leaned back slowly. "I see."
"Jon Teffera — "
"Also died in his sim couch. Yes. I heard the details. In fact, I attended his funeral, as a representative of SimTech and as a personal friend." Warrick leaned forwards, speaking slowly and clearly. "Para-investigator, the sim had nothing to do with either death."
Toreth looked at him curiously, trying to see even the faintest tinge of doubt on his face, and found nothing.
"Thank you for your opinion," Toreth said. "However, I'm going to need access to data about the sim, to records of use by both Teffera and Jarvis. All the safety trials, and so on."
For a moment, he thought Warrick would repeat his denial of the possibility. In the end, he merely nodded. "Of course. Anything you require, naturally. If you want the very oldest pre-SimTech data, you'll have to apply to the appropriate Administration research division. However, you'll be wasting your time — you won't find anything."
"I'm afraid I'll have to look anyway. And I must ask you not to discuss the details of this conversation with anyone else, inside or outside SimTech, until the initial interviews are finished — particularly the circumstances of Jarvis's death."
Warrick nodded, although a wry smile suggested he had been thinking about that very thing. "You have my word."
"One more thing I'd like to know. Where were you on the evening of the twenty-seventh of September?
"Let me check." Warrick consulted his screen, and then nodded. "At what time?"
"The whole evening, please."
"Very
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