“When you’re that rich,” Dox said, “I believe they call it ‘eccentric.’”
“What about security?” Labee said.
Larison put down the article and picked up his coffee mug. “I know of the outfit. Gorgon Security. They’re full service—threat assessments, investigations, and site security, including for estates like Grimble’s.”
“How good?” Labee said.
Larison sipped his coffee. “Good enough. Some ex-military, a lot of ex-cops.”
Labee pointed to the blueprints on the table. “There are two posts. The guardhouse, on the northwest end at the Mountain Home Road entrance, here. And another structure on the southeast corner of the property, behind the main residence, here. How many guards in each?”
Larison flipped through a sheaf of papers. “One each. And two more patrolling the perimeter, so no fixed location. Total of four, all armed.”
Dox pointed to a blown-up satellite map of the area. “The shortest distance to the main residence is here at the southeast corner. We can get there from this other road, Manzanita Way. We’d have to cross someone else’s property, but these lots are all the size of small countries and there’s ample tree coverage. I’m not worried about being seen. Kanezaki could get us intel on security at the various houses backing up on Grimble’s property. I doubt any of them has more than an alarm system and maybe a dog, but it doesn’t matter—we’d select the weakest link and cut through there.”
“Speaking of dogs,” Labee said, “are we sure there’s no K-9 patrol?”
Dox shook his head. “No mention of it. Which is good, because you can bypass an alarm system, and you can make a person shut up by sticking a gun in his face, but for security a barking dog is hard to beat. Even a little yapper, let alone a squad of trained Dobermans. But probably Grimble figures that four gunmen on the property is plenty. I mean, what are his real concerns? Gawkers? At worst maybe a kidnapping attempt? I’m surprised he’s got even this much. Tell you the truth, I was hoping all we’d have to do is hop a fence or something.”
Diaz was standing off to the side, sipping her coffee. “Have we ruled out just calling Grimble, and explaining what we need?”
Dox gave her an appreciative nod. Diaz was smart, and impressively adaptable. She’d adjusted pretty fast from assuming disputes were something to be settled in a courtroom to realizing a lot of them got handled more the old-fashioned way.
“It’s tempting,” he said. “We have the number, it’s how we know he is where he is. But look what happened at Schrader’s house. Plus the hotel, plus with Manus’s people. Plus with that poor girl Ali. Someone’s been a step ahead of us, at least some of the time. And if that someone is monitoring Grimble’s communications, we’d just be tipping them off.”
“It’s not just that,” Labee said. “What if we were to call and couldn’t persuade him? Or worse, what if he decided to do something on his own, release the videos or something like that, as a way of protecting himself. I don’t want him to have time to think. I want him reacting. And I want us to be there so we can monitor how he’s reacting. And press him, if he needs pressing.”
Diaz nodded. “I get it.”
Larison picked up the coffee carafe. “Anyone need a refill?” Diaz nodded and extended her mug. Larison refilled it, then his.
“Look at the placement of cameras,” he said. “If we go in from the southeast side, there’s no way to make it to the main residence without being picked up. In fact, there’s no way to get to the main residence from anywhere without passing at least one camera. And according to the paperwork Kanezaki hacked from Gorgon, the cameras are monitored in real time in the main guardhouse.”
“True,” Dox said. “Probably by a minimum-wage guy focused more on his paperback novel or porn stash than on the camera feeds. But right, we can’t count on that. We’ll need a distraction.”