Hidden - Laura Griffin Page 0,60
or passport applications or military records. We aren’t just talking about mug shots here, and that’s one thing that has privacy advocates up in arms.”
“Tell me about the technology involved.”
His gaze narrowed. “What are you writing about, exactly?”
“I don’t know yet.”
He didn’t look like he believed her, but he let it go. “Well, originally some of the best tech was implemented by the big casinos. They were trying to spot people counting cards and running cheating scams. Since 9/11 the federal government has been in on the action, too, using the technology for law enforcement, antiterrorism, that kind of thing.”
Bailey crossed her arms. “One person’s ‘terrorist’ is another person’s ‘peaceful protester.’”
“Exactly. You can see how the technology could be abused. It’s already happening in China and Saudi Arabia, where they’ve deployed it all over the place to track dissidents.”
“They’re probably doing that here, too.”
Nico lifted an eyebrow. “Paranoid much?”
She shrugged. “I don’t trust institutions. Never have.”
“I can’t say I disagree with you. I read about some shit in Virginia a while back. Some cop who took a cell phone picture of a woman he thought was hot, then got a friend to track her down in the DMV database, found out where she lived, and started stalking her.”
Bailey’s skin chilled.
“The thing about this technology,” Nico said, “is that most people have no idea how insidious it is.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, it’s based on math. Distance between pupils, nostrils, earlobes. The length and angle of the nose. It’s things that are near impossible to change, so it’s not like you can just wear sunglasses when you go out if you want to avoid it. And these cameras are everywhere now. They’re capturing your image when you don’t even know it.”
A knot of dread formed in Bailey’s gut. “So . . . someone could just look someone up?”
“No, not really. It’s way more complicated than that. These databases aren’t all connected, and there are rules about not sharing images. Plus, there’re firewalls.”
She thought of John Colt’s words. Nothing’s impenetrable.
“What’s wrong?” Nico asked. “You look sick all of a sudden.”
“I’m just . . . I’m fine.” She stood up. “I shouldn’t have skipped lunch. Thanks for talking.”
She left him sitting there, baffled, as she crossed the newsroom to her desk. She wanted to talk to Jacob. Now. Maybe she could catch him at the police station. She grabbed her keys and pulled her purse from her desk drawer just as her phone chimed.
She didn’t recognize the number or even the area code.
“Bailey Rhoads,” she said as she cut through the maze of cubicles.
“Bailey, it’s Seth.”
The voice surprised her. She reached the elevator and tapped the button.
“I got your voice mail,” he said, and she heard traffic noise in the background. “How did you get my cell phone number?”
“Oh. Sorry. Nico gave it to me last week. I hope you don’t mind. I called your office earlier, but you weren’t there, so—”
“When?”
“I’m sorry?”
“When did you call my office?”
“I don’t know.” The elevator was taking too long, so Bailey headed for the stairs. “Maybe around ten this morning? I left a message with Levon.”
“What was it you needed?”
“Just a follow-up question about Granite Tech.”
Bailey hurried down the stairs, passing Max, who gave her a reproachful look. She’d skipped the staff meeting this morning and he’d put her on the budget for tomorrow. Some damn fluff piece she didn’t have time for.
“Seth? Are you there?”
“My reception’s bad,” he said. “What was your question?”
“When we were talking yesterday, you mentioned a rough patch four years ago. The company was doing layoffs and you said tensions were running high.”
“Yeah?” His voice sounded wary.
“What prompted the turnaround?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean, things were looking bleak for Granite Tech financially. But now they’re adding employees and coffee bars and fitness studios.” She reached the bottom of the stairs and pushed through the door into the lobby. “I’m wondering about the turnaround. What changed?”
Silence.
“Seth?”
Nothing.
“Seth? You there?”
She looked at her phone. But the call had dropped.
* * *
* * *
JACOB HAD JUST left the police station when he noticed Gabby on the sidewalk waving him down. He pulled over and lowered his window. She wore workout clothes and had a computer bag over her shoulder, and her short pink hair was pulled back with a cloth headband.
“Hey, I was looking for you.” She rested her arm on the door. “Everyone said you’d taken off for the day.”
Jacob had spent the afternoon at Cold Storage poring over a copy