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When he looked at his king-sized bed, he found the culprits.
Three pigeons sat together, not making a sound until he entered the room. They stood and began to make little cooing noises, small talk amongst themselves only they could understand. Confirming he was there, in case the other two didn’t realize it.
One by one, they hopped off the bed and walked in a single file line right past him, eyeing him carefully and then speeding up their gait. They rounded the corner to the living room. And he’d closed the door they expected to fly out of.
He quickly checked his bathroom and closet and then holstered his gun.
“All right. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to ruin your afternoon delight, fellas. Here I come,” he said as he walked slowly past thebirds so he wouldn’t have to pick up a room full of feathers if he scared them.
He slid open the door, pulling the drapes aside.
One by one, they approached the balcony, and one by one, they hopped up on the solid half wall that bordered the tiny space. They flew off in unison to another balcony.
So that was the answer to one of his questions. Whomever left the window open had been there much earlier, giving them enough time to discover the open window and enter, settling down on the softest part of his apartment.
His gun safe was untouched. Nothing was left anywhere. Nothing appeared to have been removed, but the desk drawers had been opened and papers rifled. His dresser had also been rummaged through, clothes strewn around. Why would they want something in his underwear drawer? What was the message here, he wondered. Why would someone risk their life to come inside his place, his inner sanctum, other than to mess with his head? He didn’t even know of anyone who had the agility to do this sort of thing without proper rigging. And that would cause too much attention.
He called down to the guard below, who answered on the first ring.
“Someone’s been in my room and left my sliding glass window open. Can I have information on who, other than myself, opened my door or the door next to me?”
“You know I can’t do that, but I can check the log for your door.”
“Please. I’m waiting.”
“I have to give it a minute for the software to click up. Just a moment.”
Dimitri heard the keyboard tapping.
“Here it is, yes, there was a passkey used. Hmmm. A maintenance passkey. About nine o’clock this morning. Were you home at the time?”
“You can see from the record I left early.”
“Yes, I see that. It was about twenty minutes later.”
“And when did they leave?”
“Looks like after about a minute, maybe ninety seconds. Not very long. Is anything missing?”
“Not that I can tell. So who is this maintenance worker?”
“They have their own set of master passkeys. For emergencies. They are all alike so they can use any of them when they need to. Not specifically assigned. They should be, though. But we don’t do that.”
“Where are these stored?” he asked.
“Downstairs. I think Wendell is there now. You want me to call him?”
“No, I think I’ll go visit him.”
“Better not go alone. You know we’ve had some break-ins lately. We’re supposed to accompany anyone who goes to maintenance. The building management got a complaint the residents were harassing the maintenance workers, so we changed the policy. Hard to find good people.”
“Suit yourself. So it’s down on the gym level?”
“Turn right instead of left, and you’ll be there. I’ll meet you there.”
Dimitri took one last search, double-checked the locked windows, and then carefully closed his door, making it to the elevator and pushing the button to the basement floor.
He walked to the glass door with the maintenance hours posted. The door was locked, and all the lights inside were off. That wasn’t normal.
