The Hypothetical Building

Participants:

cat_icon.gif laura_icon.gif

Scene Title The Hypothetical Building
Synopsis Cat and Laura compare ideas on how to make secure a location that doesn't exist. Yet.
Date December 18, 2008

Morgan Security and Locksmithing


Like many such places in the very large city, Laura's 'shop' is a small little couple of rooms, tucked away on the ground floor of a building that hosts many such office-type units. From the outside, it's extremely unremarkable, little more than a door with a frosted-glass window and a simple sign: Morgan Security and Locksmithing. There are no posted hours, no slogans, no advertisements; the kind of place tourists walk right by and never realize it was there. But then, Laura isn't interested in attracting touristy business.

She's been in New York for about a year, now; a curious researcher might trace the business' trail to Denver, Seattle, its origin in San Francisco some eight years ago. Her advertising is largely word of mouth, or accessible by those who know where best to ask, in the way of a truly top-notch professional. The interior of the front room matches that reputation, its color scheme neutral but in a pleasing rather than institutional palette; the carpet neither thick nor spare, and scrupulously clean; the desk and chairs simple but comfortable; enough art on the walls for a waiting guest to study, but nothing garishly distracting.

Laura had expert help in developing the image and impressions she wanted to convey; by this point, years later, it might as well be a second skin.

It being normal business hours, the woman is seated behind her desk, her attention focused on the computer at hand. She wears a black suit with very thin, soft blue pinstripes and a sky-blue blouse; a touch of makeup, but no jewelry, not even earrings.

Someone does approach, but this someone doesn't walk right by. Her eyes catch the simple sign and move on to the door, which soon opens. Through it she steps, with her guitar case and backpack over opposite shoulders. Cat looks far from the sort of client she expects the manager or proprietor would be accustomed to. And as the door closes behind her, she lets her eyes wander for a moment before settling on the woman behind the desk. "Good afternoon," she greets in a calm voice.

The blue eyes that peer at the new arrival over the monitor are indeed surprised by Cat's appearance, but in a fashion that suggests the thoughts behind their expression follow the line of what have we here? Curiousity piqued, Laura does her guest the courtesy of standing up, offering the other woman a vivid smile uncharacterized by hesitation. "Indeed! I was getting to think nothing was going to happen today. I guess everyone's worried about the snow, but usually there's at least a phone call or three." She pauses, the tilt of her head birdlike. "Laura Morgan," the woman continues, offering a hand. "What can I do for you?"

"You could talk about your expertise and your experience," Cat replies quietly, her eyes resting on the woman as she speaks and is spoken to. There's something about her which, despite the way she's dressed and the gear she's carrying, suggests she's formidable in her own ways. "I suspect you'd need a scenario to work from, however, so we shall try this one: I purchase a building and want to have privacy assured, perhaps desire to be able to see the exterior at all times and offer entry to persons I desire as guests without them being seen from the street itself. What would you recommend?"

Her right hand extends to shake the one offered, after she removes the glove with fingertips cut out from it. Her skin is smooth, a bit cool due to having been outside even through the covering, the nails are short and neatly trimed. At the tips of those fingers are calluses, which suggest she's well practiced at playing the instrument carried in its case.

The scenario described elicits a broad grin from Laura; it's an expression that would go well with a rubbing of the hands, though the woman doesn't actually do so. Hypotheticals are almost as much fun as the actual case — especially given that they tend to turn into cases. She gestures for Cat to seat herself in one of the chairs. "The first variable to consider is how much you're willing to spend," Laura muses aloud as she herself sits back down, positioning herself where Cat can look at her and not the monitor. "Given the clientele I usually work with, though, we'll assume that isn't an important factor in a hypothetical case."

Thus, she immediately moves on. Her tone remains light and casual, Laura's gaze directed just a little bit past Cat as she thinks. "The easy answer on the video part would be an off-the-shelf surveillance package. Which kind depends a lot on what your floorplan looks like, but you can get up to seven separate cameras or so on one of those controllers. If that's not enough, then you can slave a second system to it with an interfacing card, for up to, oh, fourteen-fifteen cameras." Blue eyes refocus on her potential customer, the young woman grinning quite broadly. "If you can't cover the outside of your building with fifteen cameras, you have serious issues.

"Now, do you really mean you don't want your guests seen, or you don't want to be seen? Because with guests, it depends on the approach, and there's a lot of setups — especially in New York! — that you just can't do anything meaningful about short of knocking the whole building down and starting over." Laura does actually breathe, as she proves by pausing here.

The scenario described elicits a broad grin from Laura; it's an expression that would go well with a rubbing of the hands, though the woman doesn't actually do so. Hypotheticals are almost as much fun as the actual case — especially given that they tend to turn into cases. She gestures for Cat to seat herself in one of the chairs. "The first variable to consider is how much you're willing to spend," Laura muses aloud as she herself sits back down, positioning herself where Cat can look at her and not the monitor. "Given the clientele I usually work with, though, we'll assume that isn't an important factor in a hypothetical case."

Thus, she immediately moves on. Her tone remains light and casual, Laura's gaze directed just a little bit past Cat as she thinks. "The easy answer on the video part would be an off-the-shelf surveillance package. Which kind depends a lot on what your floorplan looks like, but you can get up to seven separate cameras or so on one of those controllers. If that's not enough, then you can slave a second system to it with an interfacing card, for up to, oh, fourteen-fifteen cameras." Blue eyes refocus on her potential customer, the young woman grinning quite broadly. "If you can't cover the outside of your building with fifteen cameras, you have serious issues.

"Now, do you really mean you don't want your guests seen, or you don't want to be seen? Because with guests, it depends on the approach, and there's a lot of setups — especially in New York! — that you just can't do anything meaningful about short of knocking the whole building down and starting over." Laura does actually breathe, as she proves by pausing here.

The woman nods slowly. "I see," Cat answers. "There isn't yet a floorplan, as the building hasn't yet been acquired or even found. But, for the sake of answering you, let's say I desired to be unseen, both guests and myself. Secret entrance and escape routes, as it were, without having to do the whole thing of razing structures to the ground and rebuilding. Generally, the issue would be makeshift camouflage, if I imagine correctly."

Laura eyes Cat sidelong. "Don't ask much, do you?" is her immediate retort. "Um. Well. It's easy enough for you to be unseen — almost any door can be wired to a remote button; just look at some random apartment complex. Put it anywhere you want. Hiding the entrance… well, that isn't so much an option in Manhattan, unless you have a really lucky choice of building. There's the rabbit warren of alleys that take up most spaces mid-block, and you might be able to do something reasonably clever with that. Being seriously concealed usually means a place with a bit of property, where you can tailor some landscaping. If nothing else, the added distance reduces chances of being seen. Manhattan might as well be a sardine can, though, in which case the best thing to do is blend in."

"It was a curiosity," Cat replies quietly with a hint of a smile forming. "Just the idea of someone approaching with less than friendly intent and not even being able to find a door, to hear appraisals of whether it could even be practically done on the island. Most likely the best possibilities are in camera systems for monitoring and intrusion counters."

Laura blinks at Cat, a hint of incredulity creeping into her expression. "Well, you can maybe camouflage the door that well. But all they'd have to do is stake out the place for a day, maybe a few. See where people entered and left by. It wouldn't deter anyone who really wanted in — and the people it would stop can also be stopped by more, um… typical methods. That require less constant work on your part." She rolls her lower lip between her teeth, reflecting on the original questions and not finding any subjects that weren't addressed. "Does that cover everything you wanted, then?"

"What's the price on a fourteen camera system?" Cat asks, her eyes remaining on the woman she's speaking with. She doesn't seem to mind if the woman thinks her a flake, perhaps that was part of the goal here. If she even noticed the hint of incredulity. Her hands are reaching for the backpack as if she were preparing to pay for such a system right here on the spot.

"Depends what all you want with it," Laura says, turning slightly away from Cat to tap something into the computer. "And who you're planning to secure against. You want something to ward off your average thug, you can get a decent one for twelve, thirteen hundred. That's just the hardware, mind." Doesn't cover installation. "Top of the line runs almost double that, but they cram so many 'features' into them it's ridiculous. Take the Internet interfaces — sure, they're hot stuff now, but unless you remember to keep up with the cutting edge, or if the company stops supporting your model, the code on it will be obsolete to any serious hacker in a couple of years, tops. Again, that only matters depending on your definition of secure." Distracted, she doesn't notice the reaching, or doesn't pay it much attention. However, the office clearly isn't a parts shop.

"I see," Cat replies with a slow nod. "Clearly I've got more thinking to do about the overall plan, I came in basically to satisfy a curiosity and float a few ideas, no matter how odd sounding they might be. I'm no expert in security, of course, and in many cases one doesn't actually know what is and isn't possible until an inquiry is made of a professional. I understand if you now feel your time may have been wasted. You're a woman running a business who needs to make a living, after all, so…" Cat's voice trails off as she bends further, her hand vanishing into the pack and emerging seconds later with two crisp hundred dollar bills. They're extended and offered to her.

The bills are accepted as a matter of course, Laura not even bothering to actually look at them. Perhaps the amount doesn't matter (which it doesn't), or she trusts Cat paid whatever the information was worth to herself (also true). "Thank you," the woman replies. Her smile stretches into an almost conspiratorial grin. "Wasted? Not hardly. You just let me know when you find that building of yours, and I'll come give it a look. Tell you what you can really do with it. It'll be fun!" She honestly sounds enthusiastic about the prospect.

Having paid what she judged a reasonable fee, Cat closes the backpack and stands. Her gear is set back in place across opposite shoulders, then the right hand is offered again to shake. "I'll do that," she states. "You're very welcome, and thank you so much for your time in speaking with me." After the gesture is accepted and returned, she's on the way out.


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December 18th: Shifting Winds
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December 18th: A Corner Of Normalcy
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