Read Online The Angel Maker - 2 by Ridley Pearson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ridley Pearson
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Police Procedural, Seattle (Wash.), Transplantation of Organs; Tissues; Etc
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make that call for me, and let's see where it leads? Then maybe we'll discuss it."
A few minutes and a brief phone conversation later, she informed him, "They'll call back. It won't take long."
Boldt used the down time to press for more information. Miles had dozed off. "How many of your employees would have access to your donor database?" he asked. She hesitated, unsure how much to share with him. "A woman was kidnapped, Ms. Dundee.
Kidnapping is a federal offense. The kidnapping may or may not be related to her association with Bloodlines. Am I getting through?"
She answered, "At this branch, about two dozen of us would have access to our client base, maybe more. Hard copies of the files are kept behind registration."
"And is registration manned constantly?"
"Constantly? No, I would doubt it. No."
"You said 'this' branch? How many are there?"
"In Seattle? just this one."
"And the others?"
"We're a regional corporation, Mr. ... Boldt. Twenty-four branches in eleven states. I can give you the literature if you want. Or I could put you in touch with our home office in San Francisco."
"The database would contain a donor's blood type, would it not?"
"Blood groups. Of course."
"And personal information?"
"Meaning?"
d'you tell me. You mentioned home address. How about age?
Marital status?"
"All of those, yes."
"Accessible from any terminal?"
"No, the terminals deal with donors only by donor number. The personal information requires an access code. Only I have the access code, and only two terminals share the complete database: reception and mine. But there are the hard copies, as I mentioned, though they are locked up in a vault at night. We don't take our situation lightly, Lieutenant." "Sergeant," he corrected. "No, I'm sure you don't."
"We take client confidentiality quite seriously." Miles stirred. Boldt asked, "What if I entered a particular blood type into the computer. Would it be able to give me back the names of all those donors with that particular blood type? Can it sort that way?"
"You should talk to our data processing about that."
He hated these kinds of answers. "Back to your employees. How many of them do you know well?"
"Depends what you mean. I know them all. I hired them. I don't know about how well I know them."
"How long have you been with Bloodlines?" he asked.
"Me? Going' on nine years now."
"And your employees? Have any of them been with you, say, two or three years?"
She considered this. "Three or four, maybe. I could check for you if I had the home office's permission."
"And that would be up to me to obtain," he reasoned. "Yes, it would."
Miles was awake and quickly losing control. Boldt resigned himself to leaving. He tried a long shot. "Of those three or four long-time employees, one of them has shown a particular interest in your computer system. Which one would that be?
Maybe he or she helps you out with the system now and then."
She appeared both surprised and impressed by what he'd said.
"You never did show me any identification," she reminded. "No, I didn't." He paused. "Which employee?" he repeated, sensing she had the name on the tip of her tongue. "I need that name."
Her phone rang, sparing her from answering. When she hung up, she faced him with a dazed expression. "That was your call.
The three names you gave me? They're all on our list. They were all clients of this office. Seattle. Were they kidnapped, too?"
Boldt repeated softly but severely, "I need the name of that employee. The one who helps you with the computer."
Ms. Dundee nodded ever so slightly, muttered, "I hate computers." She picked up her pen and wrote out the name: Connie Chi.
By five-thirty that afternoon, over one hundred cars had filled the lower parking area of the Broadmoor Golf Club. Mercedes, BMWS, Acuras, the occasional Cadillac and Olds. A spectacular turnout. in one corner of the enormous walled party tent, high-spirited kids dressed in Ralph Lauren's finest took turns, blindfolded,
A few minutes and a brief phone conversation later, she informed him, "They'll call back. It won't take long."
Boldt used the down time to press for more information. Miles had dozed off. "How many of your employees would have access to your donor database?" he asked. She hesitated, unsure how much to share with him. "A woman was kidnapped, Ms. Dundee.
Kidnapping is a federal offense. The kidnapping may or may not be related to her association with Bloodlines. Am I getting through?"
She answered, "At this branch, about two dozen of us would have access to our client base, maybe more. Hard copies of the files are kept behind registration."
"And is registration manned constantly?"
"Constantly? No, I would doubt it. No."
"You said 'this' branch? How many are there?"
"In Seattle? just this one."
"And the others?"
"We're a regional corporation, Mr. ... Boldt. Twenty-four branches in eleven states. I can give you the literature if you want. Or I could put you in touch with our home office in San Francisco."
"The database would contain a donor's blood type, would it not?"
"Blood groups. Of course."
"And personal information?"
"Meaning?"
d'you tell me. You mentioned home address. How about age?
Marital status?"
"All of those, yes."
"Accessible from any terminal?"
"No, the terminals deal with donors only by donor number. The personal information requires an access code. Only I have the access code, and only two terminals share the complete database: reception and mine. But there are the hard copies, as I mentioned, though they are locked up in a vault at night. We don't take our situation lightly, Lieutenant." "Sergeant," he corrected. "No, I'm sure you don't."
"We take client confidentiality quite seriously." Miles stirred. Boldt asked, "What if I entered a particular blood type into the computer. Would it be able to give me back the names of all those donors with that particular blood type? Can it sort that way?"
"You should talk to our data processing about that."
He hated these kinds of answers. "Back to your employees. How many of them do you know well?"
"Depends what you mean. I know them all. I hired them. I don't know about how well I know them."
"How long have you been with Bloodlines?" he asked.
"Me? Going' on nine years now."
"And your employees? Have any of them been with you, say, two or three years?"
She considered this. "Three or four, maybe. I could check for you if I had the home office's permission."
"And that would be up to me to obtain," he reasoned. "Yes, it would."
Miles was awake and quickly losing control. Boldt resigned himself to leaving. He tried a long shot. "Of those three or four long-time employees, one of them has shown a particular interest in your computer system. Which one would that be?
Maybe he or she helps you out with the system now and then."
She appeared both surprised and impressed by what he'd said.
"You never did show me any identification," she reminded. "No, I didn't." He paused. "Which employee?" he repeated, sensing she had the name on the tip of her tongue. "I need that name."
Her phone rang, sparing her from answering. When she hung up, she faced him with a dazed expression. "That was your call.
The three names you gave me? They're all on our list. They were all clients of this office. Seattle. Were they kidnapped, too?"
Boldt repeated softly but severely, "I need the name of that employee. The one who helps you with the computer."
Ms. Dundee nodded ever so slightly, muttered, "I hate computers." She picked up her pen and wrote out the name: Connie Chi.
By five-thirty that afternoon, over one hundred cars had filled the lower parking area of the Broadmoor Golf Club. Mercedes, BMWS, Acuras, the occasional Cadillac and Olds. A spectacular turnout. in one corner of the enormous walled party tent, high-spirited kids dressed in Ralph Lauren's finest took turns, blindfolded,
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