The Carbon Trail by Catriona King Page A

before he had time to say yes. Devon was standing there, his face flushed. Mitchell gazed at him quizzically.
    “What’s wrong with you?”
    Devon sat down without preamble and started talking at breakneck speed.
    “Twentieth floor... The boss… What’ll I do?”
    He wasn’t making sense and Mitchell said so, making him start again.
    “I’ve had a call from the twentieth floor. Some girl called Sylvie.”
    “She’s the P.A. to the Board. You remember? The blonde at the front desk.”
    Devon nodded and kept going. “The boss, Neil Scrabo, wants to see me.”
    Mitchell leaned forward, more interested now. “What about?”
    A look of panic raced across Devon’s face. “How do I know? If it was anything about research he’d have called you.” His panicked look spread. “I’m getting the sack, that’s it. I’m getting the sack! What’ll I tell Amy? We’re still paying off our college loans.”
    Mitchell shook his head emphatically. “If you were getting the sack I would know. Hell, they’d expect me to tell you. You’re not getting the sack.” He rubbed his face tiredly. “It must be something to do with the work.”
    Then Mitchell had a sudden thought. If the Board had noticed his forgetfulness, maybe they wanted Devon to keep an eye on him. He could do without it, but it wasn’t Devon’s fault. Mitchell looked at the younger man and smiled encouragingly.
    “There’s one way to find out. Go and see him. If he asks you about the allotrope or me, say I’m working on it and I’ll report to the Board as soon as I’ve got something for them to hear.”
    He smiled again and waved Devon from the room. “Now, go. The sooner you see Scrabo, the sooner we’ll both know why.”
    ***
    Karen wandered around the store with a faint blush on her face. It wasn’t the sort of place she usually shopped, but then she didn’t have a second honeymoon every week. She fingered a black lace camisole and rubbed its soft silk between her fingers, imagining her husband’s strong hands stroking her breasts. A small shiver of pleasure ran down her spine and she giggled, feeling more like a high-school sophomore than a thirty-five-year-old wife.
    Her thoughts were broken by the knowing look of the store assistant. Karen dropped the lace and glanced away but the assistant had seen it all before. She stood up from her chair, smiling and wandered over to help her shy customer find the right size.
    ***
    Devon’s summons to the twentieth floor was interesting. Mitchell had no doubt that he’d leave with Neil Scrabo’s instructions to keep an eye on him ringing in his ear. It didn’t bother him unduly, he could handle Devon. It might even throw some light on things. All he had so far was scientific knowledge that he couldn’t remember acquiring, an urge to drink Russian tea that kept taking him to a café where he had obscure conversations with an old woman, and a beautiful girl who knew him a lot better than he recalled.
    Elza was already watching him; Devon would only be more of the same. There could only be for one reason for all the scrutiny; he had something that other people wanted. Mitchell thought of the door in the café and the file on his computer that he didn’t understand. Yes. He had something that was worth a lot of money to someone.
    He wandered into the bathroom beside his office and washed his face, staring at himself in the mirror. The face that gazed back felt less familiar by the day, instead of more. Reading between the lines at home, he was different with Karen too. Nicer somehow. She seemed happy about it. Elza had seen the difference as well, but she’d been less impressed.
    Drying his face, Mitchell leaned back against the sink, thinking. Elza was the key. If she was watching him it was for a reason. Someone was telling her to do it and they were the people with the answers. Perhaps he’d been hasty kicking her out, she could be useful. He made a mental note to find her later then returned to