Page 26 of The Perfect Poise

“Does it matter?” Clingan retorted.

“I guess not,” Ryan said, now seemingly more relaxed since he was free from the shackles of courtesy. He walked past the man in the direction of the elevators, calling back over his shoulder.

“Clingan, we have reason to believe that there is evidence of a serious crime in those BEING offices upstairs. We have concerns that any delay in accessing the offices might result in the destruction of said evidence. As such, these are exigent circumstances and we’re going to dispense with warrants and things like ‘permission.’ You can have Gary give us access or you can do it yourself, but one way or another we’re getting up there.”

Clingan chased after him, along with Gary and his three other minions. The two uniformed LAPD officers looked over at Jessie nervously. She followed the other group and indicated that they should do the same.

“Just stay cool,” she muttered to them, projecting a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. “Let Detective Hernandez do his thing and follow his lead.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Clingan said when he caught up to Ryan by the elevators, “but I simply cannot allow you access.”

“Clingan,” Ryan said, a broad smile on his face.

“Yes?” the man asked, his own face red with exertion from moving so quickly.

"I won't say it again," Ryan said firmly. "Unlock access to the top floor, or we will help you unlock it."

Clingan looked back at him uncertainly, then glanced over at the cops standing on either side of Jessie. Finally, his eyes fell helplessly on her. She decided to give him an assist.

“Mr. Clingan," she said, giving him the benefit of the doubt that it was his last name, "we don't need this to escalate. The next logical step, from our perspective, is arresting you and your team for impeding a priority investigation. Now, do you really think the legal staff up there at BEING is going to offer you their services when you all face those charges? Color me skeptical."

“Please, Ms. Hunt,” he pleaded, indicating that even though she hadn’t given her name, he knew exactly who she was, “you’re putting me in an impossible position.”

“No we’re not, Mr. Clingan. They are,” she told him, pointing up. “This is a law enforcement action, and you are being instructed to impede it by them. Not only is that unfair to you, but it’s also pretty darn suspicious, don’t you think? Now, if you know who I am, you also know that I have some cachet in this town. And I assure you that if you get any blowback from your overlords upstairs for following the law, I will be front and center with the press to call them out. That’s a promise. Now, let’s end all this silliness and just enter the access code so we can do our job. What do you say?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The elevator doors opened onto a giant windowed concourse that offered a view of half the city of Los Angeles. Jessie stepped out and allowed herself a moment to appreciate it, pretending not to notice the two extremely large men in suits standing with their arms crossed, standing directly in front of her.

Ryan walked straight past them to the terrified-looking young woman at the massive reception desk, which appeared to be made entirely of carved marble. The giant suit guys both turned to watch but didn’t speak or move.

“We’re here to see Marcus Blackwell,” he said politely, as if that wasn’t already obvious to everyone.

“I’m afraid that Mr. Blackwell is unavailable right now,” she replied through clenched teeth, her voice shaky. It was clear that she’d been instructed to answer that way.

“Brandy,” Ryan said warmly, taking note of the nameplate on the desk, “I’m sorry this is happening to you today, but either you or someone of your choosing needs to take us back to see Mr. Blackwell now. We have to discuss a police matter with him, and it can’t wait.”

"Sir," said the larger, darker-haired of the two suited giants, "Mr. Blackwell is a very busy man. You can make an appointment and return later, or you can have a seat, and we’ll try to fit you in if time permits. But at this time, he’s unavailable.”

Ryan didn’t even look back at the guy as he replied, “We’re going back now. We can search office to office for him if need be. Or we can avoid that fuss and be escorted back.”

He took a step to the right of the desk, toward the glass doors behind it. The marginally smaller but still enormous, lighter-haired of the suited giants also moved one step in the same direction.

“You don’t want to do that,” Jessie said to him, her tone as friendly as Ryan’s had been. “You’re welcome to accompany us back, but any attempt to interfere with police business will require the nice officers here to—you know—arrest you. No one needs that hassle.”

The man stopped in his tracks, uncertain how to proceed. Brandy the receptionist exhaled heavily and stood up. “I’ll take you back,” she said reluctantly.

Jessie was impressed that the seemingly least powerful person in the room was taking the initiative, despite how scared she must be.

“Thanks, Brandy,” she said.

They all followed the young woman through the glass doors and down the long, winding hallway. Jessie glanced back at the parade of people behind her, including Ryan, the two suited giants, the two LAPD officers, and Clingan and his three security guards.

Brandy eventually stopped in front of a humungous, rectangular office at the back corner of the floor. It was enclosed on all sides by frosted glass. She pressed a button by the door.

“Mr. Blackwell, there are some people from LAPD out here with me,” she said meekly. “They’d like to speak with you.”

They all waited silently for several seconds. Then, the glass changed from opaque to clear, revealing the interior. Staring back at them was Marcus Blackwell. His eyes were a piercing blue. He was dressed casually in black jeans, white Converse sneakers, and a tight-fitting turtleneck sweater that matched his eyes.

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