House on Fire

20

I stood up, grabbed my shaving kit, and quietly went out into the hall, passing Conrad’s bedroom suite as if in search of the hall bathroom. The floor, fortunately, was covered in a long oriental runner that must have been custom woven for the original owner a century ago. It also muffled my footfalls, which was great. I was barefoot and knew how to move stealthily in a silent house, but creaky old wooden floors were often a problem in grand houses. The house where I spent my childhood had creaky floors.

The hallway was dark. But I had studied the blueprints, and I knew where I was going.

Conrad Kimball’s study was on the first floor in the other wing of the house. I reached the stone staircase I’d climbed a few hours before. A skylight filtered faint moonlight. I descended the carpeted stairs.

Were there servants around and awake? Maybe, but if so, they were unlikely to question a houseguest, even one roaming the house at two in the morning.

I walked on, my bare feet touching the cold stone of the tiled foyer. The old man’s study was around the corner, the first door on the left, off a small alcove. Across the hall was a swinging door that led into the kitchen. I knew this from the blueprints.

The study door was closed. It was a heavy, medieval-looking door made out of carved wood, of the sort you might see in Game of Thrones. But mounted on the right side of the door was a modern contraption, a small steel number pad with a bright red pinpoint LED light.

Which meant, of course, that the office was alarmed. That I hadn’t expected. Not when his family was in residence.

Shit.

That wasn’t the end of the road, though. I took note of the alarm manufacturer, conveniently right there on the control pad. It was a newly installed system, and it was wireless. There were ways to defeat — jam — wireless systems. I’d be better prepared the next time I visited.

So there would have to be a next time.

Conrad Kimball was an extremely suspicious man. That wasn’t surprising after all. Kimball Pharma was a company under fire these days, and so was the Kimball family.

I turned to go. And then I heard footsteps, someone advancing along the hall very quietly. Very slowly.