"No."
"Did she try to force her way into Records?"
"No."
"Did she attempt to connect equipment to a workstation?"
"No, but I did not know what was in the case."
"Did she resist when you moved her to the interview room?"
"No."
Mercer set the credential pieces back down. "Then this didn't become a security emergency because of something the visitor did. It became one because you interrupted a validation procedure before completing it."
Rebecca's face hardened. "Chief, if I'd let someone through and the credential had turned out to be fraudulent, you'd be asking why I didn't stop her."
"Stopping someone and destroying their credential are separate decisions. You were given a way to verify her. Did you use it?"
Rebecca did not answer. Mercer asked Ben to leave the screen untouched and moved down the interview corridor. Through the narrow window of room two, he saw Maya sitting quietly beneath the clock. Her posture made him oddly uncomfortable. People detained in his station often demanded lawyers, telephones, or explanations. This woman looked as though she were waiting for the next item on an agenda she had already read.
He opened the door. "Ms. Williams. I'm Chief Daniel Mercer."
"I know who you are, Chief."
He paused. "Have we met?"
"No."
"Then how do you know me?"
"Your name is on the department's public leadership directory. It's also associated with the technology acceptance documents relevant to this visit."
He felt the second sentence land differently from the first. "I've received a telephone call from the FBI Charlotte Field Office. They want you on a secure line."
"Then we should return to the front desk and complete that step."
"Before we do, I need your account of what took place."
"Your cameras captured it. Your access systems logged it. Your lieutenant and Officer Carter witnessed it. My account can be taken after the systems are preserved."
"I'm asking you personally."
Maya studied him for a moment, then described the exchange in plain chronological language. She gave the first verification result, the request for a secure call, Rebecca's order to close the display, the attempted seizure of the case, the tearing of the card, and the detention. She did not call Rebecca racist, corrupt, foolish, or malicious. She did not make the account sound larger than it was. That precision bothered Mercer more than anger would have, because anger could sometimes be answered with an explanation of intentions.
"You could have avoided this by telling her you were FBI," he said.
"I had restricted disclosure instructions. An agency name would not have relieved her of the obligation to verify my authorization. If I'd claimed to be FBI without any means of validation, she would have had the same reason to doubt me."
"And you knew she was likely to doubt you?"
"I knew the procedure gave her a way to resolve her doubts."