Free Minions by Garrett Addison Page B

building is secure.  Very secure. 
There’s only one point of entry and all access via that door requires an access
code.  Any breach, or attempted breach, of the building will result in
specialist attention within a few minutes apparently, but I’ve never seen it. 
Apparently attempts do happen.  Irregularly, but they happen from time to
time.  And Glen also performs drills.”
    “I’ll bet it looks pretty cool when it happens.  Did you
see the movie ‘SWAT’?” Ikel added.
    “Anyway,” Lori continued, clearly not appreciating Ikel’s
interruption.  “There’s automated facial recognition software controlling
access to the building.  There’s touch sensors on all the door handles for
fingerprint cross referencing to your image for the other software.  All Glen’s
design and implementation.  Of course, this can be over-ridden if someone is in
the building to buzz you in.”
    “You’re crapping me!”
    “Not at all.  We should have checked it on the way out,
but Glen obviously thinks it can wait until morning.”
    Devlin was still incredulous.  “I haven’t had a photo
taken yet.”
    “You’ve already touched the main door and the bunker door
and your photo would have been taken from the building security system.  Glen would’ve
checked that it was all in order while he left us for a time in the bunker.”
    “The work room is a different matter.  We call it a bunker
for good reason.  Nobody’s getting in there, except us.  Without sanctioned
access, there isn’t even any mains power to the entire building, until it’s
reset.  The building itself is locked down with its own independent power.”
    “If people were that desperate to get in, surely they’d, I
dunno, blow up the entrance, or the whole building for that matter.”  Devlin
looked for a flaw in the rampant paranoia evident in what he was being told.
    “Ever heard of a brothel being destroyed?” Lori asked.
    “Not lately,” said Devlin thinking hard, still somewhat
distracted by the revelations of security.
    “Not lately.  Not ever.  Not anywhere,” Lori made her
point.  “I’ll bet that George W. Bush himself could visit the ‘Baghdad
Bordello’ confident he’d be safe inside!”
    “Of course, as soon as he left there would be crowds
waiting to off him, but that’s another matter,” Ikel added.
    “Anyway,” Lori continued.  “Glen chose his location with
care.  He’s smarter than anyone could give him credit for, except perhaps us. 
Now come on, I’m cold and I want to get home.”  She broke into a brisker walk
expecting the others to follow.
    “Lori.  Why are brothels secure ?” Devlin asked after
jogging a few steps to walk next to her.
    “Ikel invariably knows better than me.  Just because Glen
outed me as a former prostitute doesn’t mean that I know everything about the
subject.”
    “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.  I’m just curious.”
    “I’m not offended.  My past makes me who I am and in this
case it funded my education.  I don’t know the business, only the trade.  I do
know that when I started, they took the time to tell me how safe I was and how
my safety was paramount.  In retrospect, I can see that my safety and customer
security and discretion all amounted to good business.”
    “And customer satisfaction!” added Ikel.
    “Thanks Ikel,” Lori said cynically.  “To answer your
question, I think you have to think a little of who is inside.  Any violent
attack on a brothel is just as likely to endanger a single mum making ends
meet, or a politician, an underworld figure, the coach of the local football
team, a parish priest.  Anyone.”
    “Collateral damage is one thing, but there would be
consequences,” Ikel said, finally being constructive.
    “Ikel’s right.  Brothels give exposure, excuse the pun. 
With exposure, the potential for justice goes up substantially.  Someone will
pay.  Glen’s just using this simple fact of life.
    “I might add