Maurice asked, watching the wall of monitors. “Fifteen minutes,” said the security guard. Maurice had left Geoffrey in the living room with his vodka. Normally they caught kids on video, sneaking up the stairs, playing in the rooms–hide and seek about the worst of it. It always came as a shock to them when they were confronted. Swift punishment ensured that they didn’t have repeat offenders. But these weren’t kids. Isabelle and her boyfriend, in separate rooms, looking for something. Neither of them had detected the hidden cameras–placed in fake fire detectors and wall clocks, co-located within thermostats. There was no part of the operation that wasn’t under scrutiny, except for the rooms he used. Even Geoffrey was under surveillance, though he didn’t know it. Isabelle’s boyfriend was methodical. The man was quickly discovering what Maurice already knew. There was nothing to find, not in this building. Maurice peered at the monitor. Geoffrey was right. The boyfriend was intimidating, even from above.
