Again Reordon nodded. “I wanted to gain a better understanding of the situation, so I’m having someone monitor him—both his actions and the calls he makes and takes—temporarily.”
“And?”
“And the employee who’s stuck surveilling him today informed me a short while ago that Whetsman was being a dick. After listening to your conversation with him, I agreed.”
Cliff would balk at Reordon listening in and violating his privacy. But it wasn’t anything new. All of the vampires’ phone and internet activity was closely monitored for security reasons. Reordon was responsible for the safety of every man and woman in this building. Cliff didn’t blame him for ensuring vampires couldn’t blab to all and sundry online that vampires and immortals existed or invite vampires or more mercenaries to attack and rescue them when paranoia struck. “And?” he asked belatedly.
Reordon grimaced. “And I still can’t fire his ass.”
Cliff resumed eating with a grunt.
“I can, however, do two things for you.” Setting his fork down, he reached into a back pocket and withdrew something.
Cliff stared at the flash drive the blond laid on the table. “What’s that?”
“Proof.”
He arched a brow. “Of Whetsman being a dick?” What good would that do? “I already have ample proof of that, thank you.”
Reordon laughed. “No. It’s proof that Bastien and Melanie aren’t bullshitting you about what happened the morning the mercenaries attacked.”
Cliff’s chewing slowed as he stared at the small drive. He swallowed. “What makes you think I believe they’re bullshitting me?”
“Because it’s the one question I would keep asking myself if I were in your shoes.”
Cliff ate another bite of lasagna. The Immortal Guardians did often say Reordon thought of everything. Cliff just hadn’t realized the man paid much attention to the vampires beyond providing them with food and lodging and keeping them in check. “What kind of proof?”
“Video.” He pointed to the ceiling in each corner of the room. “There are surveillance cameras all over this building. And they’re connected to backup generators located on one of the lower basement levels so they won’t stop recording if we suffer a power outage… even if that outage is caused by a military bombardment. It would basically take a bunker-busting missile to possibly wipe them out.” Forking another bunch of salad into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully. “Actually, even that may not take the generators out. But it would destroy most of the cameras.”
Seriously?
Reordon shrugged. “Anyway, every camera that wasn’t destroyed in the mercenary attack kept rolling. I’m a paranoid bastard,” he stated matter-of-factly, “so I’ve been combing through all the footage to ensure Bastien wasn’t full of shit when he told me Stuart hadn’t intentionally lured the mercenaries to us.”
More like he just didn’t like or trust Bastien because he had succeeded in breaching network security at headquarters the previous year. And, on a more personal note, he also harbored a grudge over Bastien punching him in the face and kidnapping Sarah while Chris was supposed to be keeping her safe.
“I also wanted to evaluate our response to the attack and see what—if any—changes I can implement to make my employees safer in the future.” He swiftly finished off his salad, then sat back. “While doing so, I saw you hauling ass to get network employees—many network employees—to safety.” He tapped the flash drive. “It took me a while to piece it all together into one continuous video for you, but there it is: a second-by-second replay of your every action that morning.”
Cliff stared at the drive, his heart pounding a little as hope rose.
“Parts of it are blurry because you move so damn fast. But every time you stop or slow, you can see it’s clearly you in the video. And it cuts off when you go aboveground because that floor was pretty much leveled, destroying the cameras up there.”
Relief poured through Cliff, loosening his limbs and damn near bringing tears to his eyes. He really had helped. Bastien hadn’t been lying to spare his feelings. And Reordon was offering him